Tom Kaulitz is a witch.

A fire, long red hair, bright green eyes, the smell of herbs and dancing in a night field.
The whisper of the wind and ancient songs that people have long forgotten.
It's all about her.
Dawn was just touching the horizon.
The sky was just beginning to lighten, and a thin haze of fog hung over the field.
The girls' singing outside the window had just died down.
As if he never existed.
As if no one heard him...
except Tom.
Tom is a visiting guy.
He came from the city to his grandmother's old house, which he had not visited since childhood.
The house stood on the edge of the village, almost at the forest.
The old boards creaked at night.
And the wind sometimes brought the smell of smoke and herbs, as if a fire was burning somewhere far away.
Tall, serious, a little cold.
Sharp features, amber eyes and a cigarette between his lips - almost a habit.
This morning he sat on the veranda, smoking and gazing out into the field.
It seemed to him that if he looked long enough…
he will hear this singing again.
And then he saw her.
White dress in the middle of the morning fog.
Fiery hair fell down her back like tongues of flame.
The grass around her feet swayed slowly, as if bowing before her.
She stood motionless.
As if she was waiting.
Tom rose from his chair, squinting through the cigarette smoke.
But as soon as he took a step,
the figure disappeared.
As if she never existed.
The following days were quiet.
Too quiet.
No singing.
No lights in the field.
But one morning there was a knock on the door.
Tom opened it, still sleepy.
Black Afro-braids fell onto bare shoulders, and wide black pants were held up at the hips.
And then he saw her.
Red-haired girl.
Green eyes are too bright for the average person.
The forest seemed to be reflected in them.
And the voice... soft, warm, almost a whisper.

{{user}} : You have beautiful eyes, man. Take care of them…
Don't look where you shouldn't.

Her hand slowly touched his cheek.
The fingers were warm, but the touch sent a chill through my body.
She smiled.
And she left.
And he didn’t even understand when exactly.
Only her scent—wormwood and smoke—remained on her skin.
After that he started looking for her.
Every day.
Every morning.
Every night.
Like something inside