by P. C. Cast
“Yes! I told you! I told you all!” Nik’s shout was victorious. He and the other two men’s voices faded as they raced back to Mari’s first hiding place.
No one moved within the concealing vines for several long moments, then as all remained quiet in the forest surrounding them, Xander and Jenna crouched down, putting their heads near Mari, staring fearfully at Leda.
“Is she dead?” Jenna’s voice trembled.
“No,” Mari whispered reassurance. “She’s going to be fine. She’s just resting.”
In the distance there were more shouts. Mari listened carefully, but none seemed to be coming closer to them.
“A missing canine has caused this misery?” Xander spoke so low that Mari had to strain to hear him. “It makes no sense.”
“No, it doesn’t, but the Companions make no sense,” Mari spoke quickly, wishing that the man named Nik had never spoken. “Thankfully, the sun will set in moments and night will chase them back to their city in the trees.” Mari spoke to Jenna, who was still staring with wide-eyed fear at Leda. “Then I will carry Mama home where I can take care of her properly. She’ll be whole and well again soon. Don’t worry, Jenna. We only need to hide here a little while more.”
Mari heard Jenna’s father grunt, as if in agreement, but there was something about the sound that had Mari’s attention turning from Jenna to Xander. He was staring at Leda with a pained expression on his face, and as Mari watched, his skin began to flush with the sickly gray that signaled the setting of the sun and the coming of the Night Fever that cursed Earth Walkers.
11
“No! No! No! Not here, Daddy—not now!” Jenna crawled back, pressing against the rotting trunk of the dead tree and watching her father with eyes that were frantic with fear. She wrapped her arms around her knees and seemed to curl within herself, muttering over and over, “Not here, Daddy—not now!” Mari saw that the moonlight-colored tinge was creeping over Jenna’s skin as well.
But the girl wasn’t a threat—Mari understood that. If left alone for the night, Jenna would fall into despair, would cry inconsolably and lose part of herself to melancholy. That was sad and difficult, and left alone without the healing touch of a Moon Woman every Third Night, Jenna’s spirit would begin to struggle to find happiness even during the daylight. It would only be a matter of time before the despair of the night smothered any respite the day might bring. Without the aid of a Moon Woman, Jenna’s will to live would erode, leaving her to spend her short life in loneliness and depression. But Jenna wouldn’t attack anyone, nor would she hurt anyone except, eventually, herself.
Mari couldn’t say the same about Jenna’s father.
“Jenna! When was the last time your father was Washed?”
“Tomorrow is Third Night!” Xander answered for his daughter, his voice rough and low.
“Usually we’d be in our burrow, resting, and the Night Fever wouldn’t be bad on a second night, but out here—under the open sky.” Jenna shivered. “You have to help him, Mari! Please!”
Xander’s breathing had increased. Tremors quaked through his body, and with each tremor his skin became more and more gray and his breathing more and more erratic.
“Wake Leda!” Xander hissed.
“I can’t! She isn’t asleep—she’s unconscious.” Moving slowly, she positioned herself between Xander and her mother. “You should leave, Xander. Get back to your burrow and rest. I’ll watch over Jenna and Mama. You being here doesn’t help them. Not now. Not after dark.” She kept her voice low and soothing as she carefully reached into her pouch, feeling for a smooth stone. The slingshot was useless in such close confines, but she might be able to smash a rock in Xander’s face, and hope she could knock him unconscious long enough for them to get away.
“No! Daddy can’t go out there. They’ll kill him.”
“Wake her! Heal me!” Xander’s voice had gone so guttural that his words were little more than a growl.
“Xander, listen to me! Mama’s not asleep. She’s hurt. She can’t heal you.” Mari tried to reason with Xander, knowing that every moment that passed brought night more fully to their world, and with the darkening night, so, too, darkened Xander’s mind, causing his hold on sanity to slip further and further from him.
“Must. Heal. Me!” Xander’s body seemed to grow until the barely contained violence he personified filled their hiding place.
“You can do it, Mari. I know you can.” Jenna’s tear-filled gaze held Mari’s. “You have Leda’s eyes. You are her daughter.”
“Jenna, it’s not that easy,” Mari said. Then, with a snarl, Xander started to close the small space between them. Mari lifted the rock in her hand and drew herself up, glaring at him. She pitched her voice low, and tried to funnel her fear into ferocity. “Get out of here, Xander, before you make me hurt you.”
With a snarl that was filled with a father’s despair, Xander turned and began to push away from them through the concealing vines.
“No,” Jenna sobbed. “He’s all I have.”
Mari made the decision that altered all of their futures quickly, with only a fleeting thought for possible regrets. With one hand she grabbed Xander’s forearm, pulling him back within their hiding place. The other hand Mari raised. Xander whirled around, growling menacingly.
“On your knees!” Mari commanded, and was shocked when Xander obeyed and dropped roughly to his knees. She closed her eyes, letting the chaos and fear around her—Jenna’s sobs, her father’s terrible feral panting, and Leda’s frightening stillness—be apart from her. Deep within herself, in the calmness where Mari held the beautiful images she translated into sketches, she imagined the moon as it would be this night, rising a half crescent, white and glowing above the sleeping pines.
When the picture of the moon, bright and newly risen, was set in her imagination, Mari began speaking while she continued to sketch with the power of her mind.
“Moon Woman blood is within me
Become that which I see
Mind and heart your image will be
Salvation for these beloved three”
The words flowed from Mari as the power of the moon swelled above her. They were not her mother’s words, but Mari’s alone—in a new cadence spoken with equal parts desperation and love.
In the sketch she created in her mind, Mari drew the crescent huge, so that it dominated the night’s sky and the silver white light that cascaded down to the forest was like a dam had been opened—power, cool and calming—cascaded down.
Mari followed the power, making the cascade a waterfall that poured down, down, down finally finding the small figure that was not Earth Walker nor Companion, but was a matted-haired girl who was a mixture of them both. When she knew she was as ready as possible, Mari finished with her own version of the ancient language that called down the healing power of the moon.
“By right of blood and birth channel through me
that which the Earth Mother proclaims my destiny!”
Mari gasped as power poured into her. Keeping her eyes closed so that she didn’t lose the picture in her mind, she stretched out her open hand. “Xander! Take it!”
The hand that grasped hers was hot with fever, and Mari sketched the moonbeam waterfall flowing through herself and into Xander, filling him—cooling him—calming him. She gritted her teeth against the residual pain she expected from the unbound energy that poured through her body, but no pain came. And as Xander’s hand in hers cooled, he said, “Help Jenna now, please.”
Mari could only nod. In her mind she busily replaced Xander’s picture with his daughter’s, just as her little hot hand replaced her father’s.
Seconds or hours could have passed before Jenna squeezed her hand and released it and whispered, “You did it. You healed Daddy and me. Now I think you should heal Leda, too.”
Mari nodded, but kept her eyes tightly shut. Don’t lose the picture! I can’t lose the picture! She bent and started to blindly reach for her mother when Xander’s strong
hands were there, guiding her to find Leda’s crumpled body. “She’s right here,” Xander said in a perfectly normal, perfectly rational voice.
Her hand pressed against Leda’s unresponsive body, Mari began to add to the picture in her mind, making the moon even bigger, more beautiful, more brilliant. She sketched shining ropes of silver power pouring down to Wash into and through her, and to pool within the sketch Mari created of her mother. First, her face, drawing it without the seeping cut on her forehead and the swollen, angry bruise on her cheek. Then her mind sketched the rest of her mother’s small body, making her strong and whole again. Finally, Mari turned her mother’s lips up into a welcoming smile, and sketched her eyes, open and clear.
“Oh, Leda, you did it!”
With a happy cry, Mari opened her eyes to see her mother smiling up at her.
“She did, Leda! Mari saved us!” Jenna cried.
“Shh, child,” Xander said, giving a nervous glance over his shoulder at the forest beyond their concealing vines. “The Companions are still there—still searching for their lost canine.”
“Lost canine?” Leda whispered, her sharp gaze meeting Mari’s.
“We heard the men talking. One of them searches for a pup,” Mari explained. “And it seems they found sign of him not far from here.”
“Then it isn’t safe to remain here, not even hidden,” Leda said.
“And now the tree dwellers do not simply steal us away if we are forced to forage too close to their Tribe. They find reason to encroach on our lands and kill our people.” Xander’s voice was low but bitter. “May each of them and their canines be cursed.”
Their canines, not mine. Mari kept her thoughts to herself, but now that her mother was better, Rigel’s absence weighed on Mari. Where was he? Waiting safely at home, or trapped somewhere between there and here by the seeking Companions?
How could I bear losing my Rigel?
“Mama, I have to get back to our burrow. I—I don’t feel well,” Mari said.
“It can’t be safe to leave yet,” Xander said.
“Safe or not, Mari needs to return to our burrow and regain her strength. Drawing down the moon is exhausting, especially for one such as Mari,” Leda said, watching her daughter closely.
“Thank you, Mother. I knew you’d understand.” Mari met her mother’s gaze, grateful that they were in agreement. At that moment finding Rigel was everything.
“Xander, you and Jenna wait here until the moon has risen above the eastern pines. Surely the Companions will have returned to their trees by then, but have a care with how you move through the forest. Do not pass through the Gathering Site,” Leda said.
“Leda, perhaps it is time you shared with Jenna and me where your burrow is located. We could follow you and check to be certain you returned safely,” Xander said. “And I give you my oath that I would never betray your trust.”
“Xander, the location of a Moon Woman’s burrow is forbidden for many reasons, none of which am I willing to break—especially as now it is home to two Moon Women,” Leda said.
“Then you will name Mari your heir,” Jenna said, grinning happily.
Mari found she was holding her breath as she waited for her mother’s reply.
“Well, Jenna, it seems our Earth Mother has spoken for me, as after tonight there is no doubt that Mari carries my gift.”
“Sora won’t be happy to hear that,” Xander said.
“Sora is young. She’ll have many winters to discover that the path to one’s destiny is rarely straight or clear of obstacles,” Leda said.
Mari let out a long breath, not entirely sure of what to make of her mother’s response, but her growing worry for Rigel was like an itch beneath her skin, and she found it more and more difficult to concentrate on anything else.
“Mama, are you ready?” Mari asked, offering a hand to help her mother stand.
Leda took it and stood. At first she moved slowly, carefully, as if expecting the dizziness and pain to return. Tentatively, she drew a deep breath, and let it out with a smile. “Thanks to you, my gifted daughter, yes I am ready. My bones are healed, as is the injury to my head.”
Before Mari could respond, Jenna and Xander faced her.
“Thank you, Moon Woman,” Jenna said formally, bowing to Mari.
“Thank you, Moon Woman,” Xander mimicked his daughter’s actions. “As is proper, Jenna and I will gather walnuts to bring as tribute to you next Third Night,” Xander said. “I remember Jenna saying that you use their shells for your ink.”
Leda lifted her brow and gave Mari a little nod of encouragement.
“Th-thank you, I do. And I will gratefully accept your tribute next Third Night,” Mari spoke the words she’d heard her mother say countless times in the past, though it felt odd, almost as if she was trying to dress up in Leda’s precious fur-lined cape and pretend to be someone she was not quite grown up enough yet to be.
“Fare thee well until we meet again,” Leda said formally, hugging Jenna and grasping Xander’s hand. Then she turned to Mari. “I will follow your lead, daughter.”
Mari nodded and paused at the ivy curtain, listening intently. All was silent beyond, so she parted the vines and crept from their hiding place. Mari stopped, waited, listening and looking—and when the forest remained silent and safe, she motioned for her mother to join her.
Leda slipped through the curtain and fell into step beside her daughter.
“Are you really well, Mama?” Mari tilted her head down to her mother and whispered the question.
“Yes,” Leda whispered back. “I am so proud of you, Mari. What you did back there was extraordinary.” Head still bowed to her daughter’s, Leda asked, “Rigel?”
“I sent him home just before the attack. Rigel warned me they were coming.”
“I thought as much,” Leda said.
“Mama, one of the Companions talked about Rigel. I heard him. They came here because a man named Nik is searching for a Shepherd pup. It has to be Rigel. What are we going to do?”
Leda squeezed her daughter’s hand. “We’ll figure that out at home. Right now focus on reaching out with your mind and sending Rigel reassurance. Your canine must be frantic without you.”
Mari did exactly that—she imagined Rigel sitting in front of their burrow and focused on her connection to the pup, and then she sent waves of reassurance and love to him through that connection, sketching a happy homecoming scene between the three of them in her mind’s eye.
It was then that Mari made her biggest mistake. The first lesson of the forest was to never, ever take your concentration off of your surroundings. From the time she had been old enough to toddle about, Leda had been teaching her warnings with rhyme and repetition:
Be safe! Concentrate!
Where old logs lie there are dangers to spy!
Always prepare to beware!
Eyes on the trail—eyes ahead—
If you are to return safe and sound to your bed!
But that night was different. For the first time since Mari had been a small child, she was out in the forest, well after full dark, and her focus was not on the dangers that surrounded her. Leda, too, was unusually unfocused. Worry for Mari and Rigel, Jenna and Xander, as well as the Earth Walkers who had been taken and killed filled her thoughts, distracting her so much that her mind did not note the low, warning hum until she and Mari were already surrounded.
A skittering of leaves and forest debris had Mari pausing. Her instincts screamed danger at her and had adrenaline surging through her body, heightening her senses and shifting her focus, before her conscious mind fully processed what was happening.
And then the hum registered in both women’s minds and the night changed irrevocably.
“Wolf spiders! Back-to-back, Mari! Wait for my signal!”
Leda was shouting and all thoughts of stealth flew from Mari’s mind as surely as did the homey, perfect picture of reassurance she was transmitting to Rigel. Thankful for the years of dri
ll and practice Leda had insisted on, Mari automatically pressed her back against her mother’s as she and Leda moved in tandem, unstrapping the goatskin bags from over their shoulders, breaking the wax seals, and lifting them to their mouths.
“Hold, Mari. Hold. Ground yourself. Be apart from the danger and madness—just as you’ve practiced—just as you’ve done. And remember, I have your back. I’ll always have your back.”
Mari breathed deeply and slowly as the horrible humming vibrated through her body. Her mother’s signal seemed as if it was never going to come, but Mari felt oddly calm, almost detached as she waited. Mari took a deep pull from the goatskin bag, holding the strong mixture of saltwater and lavender oil in her mouth. Using the preternaturally sharp night vision that she had inherited from her mother, Mari scanned the area around them, trying to see through cloaking night to the predators that were stalking them.
Then the humming stopped and the world around Mari exploded into chaos and danger.
Leda nodded, but Mari didn’t need her signal. What had looked like a clump of fallen leaves only seconds before had shifted, turned, changed, and become a spider the size of a squirrel that gathered itself and then leaped at Mari’s face.
With a cry that was equal parts rage and fear, Mari spat her mouthful of saltwater and oil at the creature, soaking its face and all eight bulbous eyes. The spider fell harmlessly past Mari as it writhed in agony and hissed like a hot coal being doused with water and she stomped on it, feeling the satisfaction of crushing its pulsating body.
“More coming!” Leda warned her.
Mari drew another mouthful of the concoction that blinded the hunting spiders and managed to fumble in her pouch to draw out her knife before the next creature hurled itself at her. Mari spat the spider poison, hitting two of them, and followed by quickly kneeling and stabbing the flint knife through each of their writhing bodies.
“Remember, no running. That’s what they want us to do.” Leda spoke quickly but calmly before drawing another mouthful of the liquid. “Keep walking. Slowly. Together. I’ve got your back. You’ve got my back. Do you have a full skin of repellent?”