The Call of the Forest
The forest belonged to no one at night—except to those who dared to listen. That full moon evening, I was barely fifteen, my heart pounding as I prepared for our ritual. Candles flickered on our makeshift altar—a mossy tree stump—while incense curled toward the sky like a silent prayer. But above all, there was her: Xena. Her collar jingled softly as I fastened it, her golden eyes fixed on me, filled with a wisdom beyond her years. "Let’s go, my warrior," I whispered, stroking her reddish coat, which caught the moonlight like a suit of copper. She knew. She always knew.
A Sacred Bond
For Wiccans, the full moon is a time of power, revelation, and connection with the divine. But that night, I wasn’t just honoring the Goddess—I was honoring Xena’s spirit, that living bridge between the earth and me. In many traditions, dogs are guardians of thresholds, guides between worlds. With her, I wasn’t just celebrating lunar cycles—I was celebrating our alliance.
The Dance of Shadows
The moment we crossed the forest’s edge, fear gripped me. Born from the bowels of old mines, the woods were a maze of shadows and whispers. The trees seemed to lean in, curious. "No one will come near us," I reassured myself, because Xena was there. She was my protection. Her muscular body brushed against my legs, her tail grazing my fingers as if to say: "I’m here. Keep going." I felt her warmth, her scent of earth and fading sunset. She didn’t just walk ahead of me—she danced around me, sometimes a scout, sometimes a sentinel, sometimes a partner in crime.
When a suspicious sound made my heart race, her ears perked up, her muzzle pointed into the darkness, and with a single backward glance, she told me: "It’s nothing. Follow me."
The Circle of Elements
I traced an imaginary circle around us, calling upon the elements:
- Air to carry our intentions,
- Fire to purify them,
- Water to flow with them,
- Earth to ground them.
Without knowing it, Xena embodied these forces. Her breath was the wind, her reddish fur the flame, her instinct the living water, and her steady paws on the ground, the earth itself.
The Sanctuary
We climbed the artificial hill, a mound of earth and memory where miners had dug their tunnels decades ago. Now, it was our sanctuary. Branches cracked under my clumsy steps, but Xena moved like a silent shadow, a reddish glow slipping between the trees. "It’s your turn," I whispered as I finally let her lead. And off she went, tail raised, her steps hesitant but determined. I had no choice but to trust her.
At the top, I pulled a small flat stone from my pocket and placed it in the center of the circle. "For stability," I said, touching it. Xena sniffed the stone, then sat on it, as if blessing it. Wiccans use crystals or symbols to focus energy. I had Xena.
The Offering
I always gave her a piece of bread or dried meat in gratitude. In Wicca, we honor our allied spirits. Xena was mine. She took the offering gently, then set it beside her, like a gift to the forest. That gesture moved me every time—it was as if she understood the sacred.
The Return
Then came the moment when doubt overwhelmed me. "Xena… I don’t know the way back." She sprang up, fixed me with a look—that expression saying, "You’re doubting again?"—then set off with purpose. All I had to do was follow. She always chose the right path, avoiding treacherous roots and thorny bushes.
Once, she stopped dead in front of a fox watching us, frozen in place. She didn’t growl. She didn’t chase it. She simply waited for the animal to leave, as if to show me: "The forest is ours, but we respect it."
The Final Blessing
On the way down, I whispered a final incantation: "May harmony between us and nature be preserved." Xena often paused at that moment, as if listening. Maybe she understood, in her own way. After all, animals are far more attuned to energies than we are.
Suddenly, we were back at the forest’s edge, where the lamplight broke through the canopy. Xena sat proudly, and I knelt to embrace her. "You’re amazing," I whispered into her neck. She responded with a lick on my cheek, as if she knew I needed that confirmation: she had brought me back again.
Epilogue: A Four-Legged Priestess
Performing a Wiccan ritual with a dog is a reminder that spirituality isn’t just for humans. It’s about recognizing the sacred in every living being. Xena wasn’t just a companion. She was my four-legged priestess, my tangible connection to the magic of the world.
This wasn’t just a Wiccan ritual. It was ours. The one where a scared teenage boy and a fiery-coated dog defied the darkness together. Thanks to her, the forest was no longer a place of terror, but a temple. Thanks to her, the full moon was no longer a distant star, but an ally.
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