The day of the Iuvefalé celebration had come, and Esme had finally decided to show her master what she had been working on with Ruth. Mnou was bombarded with pleas to turn away for a moment and not look, so that Esme's creation could truly shine. Although she was in the middle of preparing breakfast, she finally gave in. She heard the rustling of fabric behind her and began to suspect what was happening. But when she turned around, she played surprised to make the little girl happy.
"Wow, a dress!? They're really beautiful!"
In front of Mnou stood the girl, posing in a beautiful red and green festive dress. It had white puffed sleeves, beautifully finished with colourful embroidery. The dark green skirt reached down to her shoes. She spun around so her master could see her from every side. Her movements were surprisingly graceful, and the skirt whispered like gentle rain as she turned. The girl was radiant.
"What do you think, do I look cute?" she burst out eagerly, giving a small, excited hop.
"Yes, very much. Everyone will surely envy you. Did you really make it yourself? I didn't know you could sew so well."
"Ruth taught me," the apprentice explained excitedly. "She can teach you too, if you want!"
"No, thank you," Mnou replied with a laugh and returned to breakfast, as did Esme, though not before Mnou firmly warned her to change before eating, so she wouldn't get her brand-new dress covered in jam. "My ordinary clothes will be enough for the evening. I won't stay long anyway."
Esme stared at her in disbelief, almost knocking over her cup of tea. "But you can't! Everyone there will have festive clothes. Don't you have anything nicer?"
Mnou gave her a slightly offended look and crossed her arms over her chest. "What do you mean, nothing nicer? What's wrong with my clothes?" she defended her favourite — and, in fact, practically her only — outfit.
"Your clothes are fine… for the mountains and gathering vegetables," Esme explained, though she suddenly realized she might have gone too far. Mnou only gave her another sharp look.
"That's exactly what I do. I live in the mountains and gather vegetables and herbs. I never needed anything fancier," she snapped.
"But you won't be doing that at Iuvefalé," the girl said, now in a calmer and more conciliatory tone. "There will be dancing and singing and chatting, and everyone will be in beautiful clothes! That's how festivals work."
"Look, I'm pretty sure I've been to more festivals and celebrations than you could even imagine. And some you wouldn't even believe."
"Really? Tell me about them," the apprentice pleaded, clearly fascinated.
"That would be a long story. Maybe another time."
"Too bad," Esme sighed, but immediately returned to the topic at hand. "But you must have a dress somewhere, right? At least one."
"Maybe there's something up in the attic from the previous witch. Who knows."
It didn't take even half an hour, and already a large chest full of dusty clothes lay in front of the fireplace, clothes that had been locked away in involuntary exile in the attic for many years. When Esme wanted something, she could be very efficient.
"Come on, master, we'll definitely find something for you!" she urged, already kneeling by the open chest, eagerly sorting through and examining the dresses.
Mnou needed only a few glances at the shabby garments to know she would never put any of them on. They were mostly very old-fashioned pieces that, in her modest opinion, had gone out of style centuries ago. She didn't know much about fashion, but she figured calling them elegant would be an insult to elegance itself. She watched the girl, waiting for her to admit defeat. Esme noticed her look and started to defend her precious discovery.
"Maybe some of them aren't in the best condition, but most of them are really pretty, don't you think?"
"…"
"Don't worry, I'll definitely find something for you. They just look dusty, that's all. Oh, look!" she cried and struggled to pull something out into the daylight. It was a lace dress in a faded rose colour. The white lace had long since turned a dingy grey, and the dusty rose was barely recognizable under layers of grime. Even from a distance, it was clear the fabric was moth-eaten. Even Esme cast a somewhat uneasy and shocked look at it at first, but quickly recovered.
"Wait, let me clean it up a bit." With a spell, she pulled all the dust out of it, and before the witches' eyes, the dress shone in all its ancient glory. The clean colours slightly improved its appearance, but they also made the awkward curves and lace more apparent. The little apprentice, however, didn't give up and sent the dress flowing right up to Mnou to have her look at it. She kept trying to stay positive but was clearly starting to lose hope.
"You don't like it very much, do you?" she asked just to be sure.
"Yeah, not really," Mnou replied and let the dress float back into the chest, so no one would have to even cast a look at it again.
Esme was still rummaging through the last pieces, when suddenly she gasped with excitement and her eyes lit up with delight.
"Look, look!" she cried and pulled something from the pile. It was a skirt, a blouse, and a vest. Everything was colourfully and cheerfully embroidered. It looked like some kind of folk costume.
"Wow, it looks like it was made just for Iuvefalé! It's beautiful!" the little witch admired the costume with fascination.
"I wouldn't be surprised if it had been worn at the very first Iuvefalé ever held on this island," Mnou grumbled sarcastically, but she had to admit, albeit reluctantly, that the outfit intrigued her a bit too.
"You have to try it on. Please, please!" the girl begged, almost desperately, holding the costume out to her master with pleading hands.
Mnou rolled her eyes and sighed but finally gave in and tried on the outfit. She examined herself in a worn-out mirror that Esme eagerly held up for her.
"You look great master; you have to wear it! Don't you like it?"
For Mnou, it was a bit of a shock to see herself in something like that. For practically all the time she had lived on Kalkhce, she had worn a single outfit that had always been enough for her, and now she had put on such a festive costume. She turned and examined herself from every angle. Here and there she muttered some critical comment about the costume, but the truth was, she was starting to like it. She blushed slightly when she realized how she was posing in front of the mirror like some silly girl.
"I don't know… do you really think it suits me?" Mnou asked, uncertain.
"Yes, it really does!" Esme assured her enthusiastically.
Mnou shook her head and sighed again. She started to take the costume off. Esme watched with a disheartened look and sadly set the mirror down on the wooden floor with a soft clunk.
"So, you're really not going to wear it?"
"Uh… well… just for today, okay? I'll wear it only today. You'll never see me in it again," Mnou snapped, trying to act like she didn't care. She turned her face away from Esme's little face, suddenly filled with surprise and happiness, and tried to hide in the shadows so that the girl wouldn't see her blushing.
She was already looking forward to wearing the costume that evening.
Orange rays of the sun gently stroked the dark surface of the sea and the swelling waves, slowly fading and weakening. The fiery orb was slowly preparing to go to sleep, making way for its gentle companion, the moon, who surely couldn't wait to watch the dancing and laughter at the long-awaited Iuvefalé celebration.
The witches marched along the rocky path, and they could already hear the laughter and music from the village, signalling that the festivities had already begun. Esme eagerly announced this obvious fact. The little witch marched forward excitedly, urging her companion to hurry. But Mnou lagged far behind, stopping every few steps to adjust her vest, skirt, and tug at her woollen stockings. All along the way, she kept complaining that the outfit itched and chafed her, though, it was just an excuse. Her initial excitement about the costume was fading away like a morning mist. With every step, nervousness weighed more heavily on her, and she could already feel the mocking looks she was sure would rain down on her. She would have preferred doing almost anything else than showing up before the villagers in that ridiculous outfit.
Good grief, why did I agree to this? Why?! Am I completely stupid? I can't show up there in this clownish costume! What will they think of me? I'll be the laughingstock of everyone! These thoughts raced through her mind as she shook a pebble out of her tall boot. She felt incredibly embarrassed that she was even thinking about such nonsense. Am I like twelve, to let something like this upset me? she scolded herself, but her mind refused to calm down, no matter how hard she tried.
"Esme… I… I think I'll go back home," Mnou mumbled shyly, staring at her boots and shuffling them back and forth like a timid schoolgirl. "My stomach's upset. I must have eaten something bad."
"Whaaaat?!" Esme cried out in shock, immediately switching to her strict expression as she realized what was really going on. "No way, master. It's going to be sooo much fun. You're going to love it. Come on, we're almost there."
"But I…," Mnou started desperately, but was immediately interrupted by her apprentice's determined voice as Esme marched back to her.
"There's nothing to be afraid of. Everyone will love your outfit. Everyone there is really nice. Come on, I'll hold your hand, so you're not scared." She grabbed Mnou's calloused hand before she could pull away. Her grip was surprisingly strong. Mnou's first instinct was to jerk away, but with another flush of embarrassment, she admitted to herself that the small, soft hand was strangely reassuring. Blushing furiously again, she gave in and, eyes cast to the ground, let herself be dragged along by Esme, who cheerfully pulled her toward the village.