Moon Chosen

by P. C. Cast

  Sora frowned and her shoulders drooped in disappointment, but she filled the pot with fresh water and hung it over the hearth to boil. Mari hurried to her mother’s pantry. She’d left the medical journal there, with the pages marked that held the instructions she needed to follow. Working quickly and with growing confidence Mari retrieved her mother’s cautery rods from the chest, as well as several lengths of clean bandages and the little wooden box that held Leda’s porcupine quill needles and rabbit gut thread she’d used to stitch wounds. Then she went to the basket filled with goldenseal root and carried the root, the cautery irons, and three large bowls to Sora.

  “Cut three thumb-sized portions of this root and muddle them with some hot water, one piece for each bowl. Then fill the bowls with boiling water and submerge these irons in the biggest one of the three.”

  “Why?” Sora asked.

  “The root is goldenseal. It gets rid of infection. The irons are for cauterizing his wound after I take the spear out, so they need to be as clean as possible. I’m going to wash my hands thoroughly in the mixture once it cools enough to touch and you’re going to wash your hands in one of the other bowls. The third one is for rinsing his wound after the spear is out.

  Be sure you refill the water in the pot and keep it boiling, though. I’m going to put together something for you to steep for him—something stronger than the valerian tea I gave him before.” Mari lowered her voice. “It should knock him out, but I don’t know how long he’ll stay out, so we’re going to have to work fast.”

  “We?” Sora whispered.

  “Do you still want to be a Moon Woman?”

  “Of course,” Sora said.

  “Then it’s we,” Mari said.

  “Okay, that’s logical, but I’m going to heat up some stew. We need to eat so that we’re as alert as possible.” Sora glanced questioningly at Nik, who was unconscious again.

  “No, he doesn’t need to eat now. He’ll more than likely puke it up. He will need a broth, though, for later, which you can also make for him. Pick the meat off the last of the rabbit bones and—”

  “Stop. Cooking I understand. You worry about him. I’ll worry about feeding all of us.”

  “Thank you, that’s a help.” Mari sent Sora a grateful smile. Then she stood, brushed her hands on her tunic, and hurried back to the medical pantry to gather the precious glass bottle filled with the liquid Leda kept on supply for emergencies. Made from the juice of a poppy, it was a powerful potion. Mari reread Leda’s instructions about dosage, and then decided how much to add to the cannabis tea that her mother’s journal said should be brewed for antinausea, antianxiety, and pain relief.

  “That should knock him out,” she said to herself. “If it doesn’t kill him.” Then she gathered more bandages, and flipped to the entry in her mother’s journal about a particularly deep puncture wound she’d cared for several winters before. Leda had taken meticulous notes about the cautery, what she did directly afterward, and how she packed the wound with a poultice made of honey, witch hazel, sage, and calendula flowers. Mari smiled at her mama’s final note: Wound healed nicely—no infection—thank the Great Earth Mother and the power of positive thinking!

  Trying to only think positively, Mari gathered honey, witch hazel, sage, and calendula flowers. Putting generous portions of each in the bottom of her mother’s largest stone muddling bowl, she returned to the main room of the burrow while she mixed all of the ingredients together.

  “His tea’s ready, and I added the boiling water to the three bowls with the goldenroot stuff,” Sora said.

  “Goldenseal stuff,” Mari corrected, sounding exactly like her mother. “I’ll take the tea. Keep muddling this mixture for me.” She paused and then added, “Please.”

  “I’d be happy to.” Sora gave her a tired smile. “Here’s his tea. Give it to him then come back here and sit down for a moment and eat your bowl of stew.”

  Mari nodded her thanks and then went to Nik. His eyes opened as she called his name and sat beside him on the pallet. “Drink this. It tastes terrible, but it’s going to make you sleep. While you’re asleep I’m going to get that spear out of your back and sew you up.”

  “Good thing I’ll be asleep.” His eyes were clearer than they’d been since they’d left the river, and he was able to lift himself up enough to gulp the bitter mixture. He lay heavily back on the pallet, but when Mari stood he reached out with surprising strength and grabbed her hand. “Could the pup come over here to me? Just until I sleep?”

  Mari didn’t answer him. Instead she stared down at her hand trapped within his. After a breath, he let go of her.

  “Rigel can sit with you,” she said. Mari glanced at her pup. He was lying in his usual place in front of the door. She noticed that his big wooden food bowl was near him, looking recently licked clean. Mari looked questioningly at Sora.

  “Yes. I fed your creature while you were taking care of the other male creature in our burrow,” Sora said. “I knew you wouldn’t let us eat until he’d eaten. I mean the canine, not the man.”

  “Huh,” Mari said, too surprised to formulate a real response. Then she turned back to Rigel and made a slight nod of her head. Instantly he padded to her. Mari hugged him and buried her face in the thick, soft scruff around his neck, borrowing strength and security from him. She kissed his nose. He wagged his tail and licked her before going to the pallet and curling up beside it. Mari watched Nik’s hand drop until it touched Rigel. Eyes closed, he slowly stroked the young canine.

  Mari joined Sora at the hearth. The girl handed her a bowl. “Thank you,” she said. They ate silently and ravenously. Halfway through the bowl of stew Mari glanced at Sora. “And thank you for feeding Rigel.”

  “You are welcome. I’m just glad he didn’t take a bite out of me instead of the rabbit.”

  “I’m glad, too,” Mari said, and with a jolt of surprise she realized she really was glad Rigel hadn’t taken a bite out of Sora. “I’m going to need your help with what comes next, and it’s going to be a lot harder than carrying him here was.”

  Sora held Mari’s gaze. “Well, then, I guess it’s a good thing that I’m here to help.”

  “Yeah,” Mari heard herself admitting the surprising truth. “I guess it is a good thing you’re here after all.”

  34

  Sora poked Nik’s shoulder hard with the tip of her finger—once, twice, three times. The man didn’t stir. She looked up to meet Mari’s gaze. “He’s gone. Completely.”

  Mari nodded grimly. “Okay, then we need to work fast. Help me turn him on his side so that we can slide the mat under him.” Together Sora and Mari took one of Leda’s woven mats that she’d used for everything from something to sit on when they picnicked to protection from the rain and wind when they had to hunt and gather during bad weather. “Let’s roll him onto his belly, and I think it would be a good idea to tie his arms and legs down. If he wakes up while I’m cauterizing the wound he could cause a lot of damage to himself if he doesn’t hold still.”

  “Tying him up sounds good to me,” Sora said.

  “You do that and I’ll start washing my hands. You need to join me as soon as he’s secured.” Mari went to the bowl filled with the hot goldenseal water, took the irons out and put then carefully in the fire, and then she began to wash her hands, remembering what her mother had told her over and over—Sweet girl, wash your hands until you think they’re clean, and then double it and wash them again. Don’t forget under your fingernails.

  Sora joined her, and Mari poured some of the hot water into another bowl, telling her, “Wash them a lot longer than you imagine you’d need to, and don’t forget under your fingernails.” Mari smiled secretly to herself. Hearing the echo of Leda in her words had begun to reassure her more than make her sad. It was as if her mama was still there, in the burrow, watching and loving her.

  “All washed. Now what?” Sora said, hands on hips looking at Nik.

  Mari had already laid out the needles, gut
thread, her mother’s smallest, sharpest knife, and bandages. While she’d placed them near the pallet, Mari had named them for Sora and explained what they were used for. The girl had listened to her attentively, which had helped calm Mari’s nerves, though she felt as if she should have waited on eating the stew as her stomach was rumbling dangerously already.

  “Now you’re going to sit at his head and hold his shoulders. When I ask for something give it to me as quickly as you can.”

  “What if he starts moving? Do I let him go to get something for you, or keep ahold of him?”

  “That depends on what I’m doing. If I have a knife, hot rod, or a needle in his flesh—hold him. Anything else you can let him go.”

  “Got it.”

  “Are you ready?” Mari asked.

  “Are you?”

  “Absolutely. Couldn’t be more ready. I’m going to start now,” Mari said, standing by Nik and staring down at him.

  “You can do this.”

  Mari blinked in surprise, and met Sora’s gaze. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. I’m sure,” Sora said with no hesitation. “You’re a Moon Woman, daughter of generations of Moon Women. I don’t think there is anything you can’t do.”

  “Thank you, Sora.” Mari blinked away unexpected tears, and then, buoyed by Sora’s belief in her, she sat beside Nik on the pallet and began unpacking his wound.

  “That looks bad,” Sora said when the moss and yarrow were cleaned from the area.

  “That’s why we needed to hurry. It’s already so swollen that I may have to cut him to get the spearhead out of there.” Mari drew a deep breath, reminding herself that he wasn’t going to feel a thing—until afterward—if she hurried. So Mari hurried.

  At first she was tentative, but the spearhead was lodged in there around a lot of swollen, bloody flesh, and being gentle was getting her nowhere except in a mess of more swollen, bloody flesh.

  “Give me the knife!”

  Sora handed it to her. Mari cut around one side of the piece of iron, slid her fingers down the bleeding skin, and managed to hook them around the spearhead. With a grunt she pulled, and the nasty, triple-pointed thing came free with a sickeningly wet sound.

  “Goldenseal water and bandages, quick!”

  Sora handed her one, and then the other. Mari rinsed and rinsed and rinsed the wound, being careful to watch from where the worst of the bleeding was seeping. Her mother’s notes had been clear on that. She had to know where the bleeders were to burn them closed.

  “Okay, now I need the medium-sized rod. Be sure you wrap the end in cloth before you grab it. Those things get really hot.”

  Sora nodded, and rushed to the hearth, coming back holding the glowing rod gingerly through a swatch of what Mari thought might be one of her clean shirts.

  “Now I need you to wash the wound out one more time, press a bandage to it, hard, and when I tell you take it off and grab his shoulders. If he’s going to wake up, it’ll probably be now.”

  Sora poured the yellow disinfecting water on the wound, and then just as Mari had instructed, held pressure on it, watching Mari closely.

  Mari didn’t hesitate. She was afraid to—afraid if she hesitated at all she would give up.

  “Now!”

  Sora lifted the bandage and, before the wound could fill with blood again, Mari pressed the glowing cautery rod against the area of the worst bleeding.

  A guttural scream was torn from Nik, and Sora held him firmly down. Within moments his body sagged into unconsciousness again.

  “Get me the other one. The smaller one,” Mari said, breathing a sigh of relief and brushing her sweat-dampened hair out of her face with the back of her forearm. Sora quickly offered the other rod to her, and Mari exchanged it for the cooling one, pressing the newly glowing head against the other bleeders.

  Nik’s body jerked then, but spasmodically, an automatic response to the cauterizing. He made no sound and as soon as Mari took the iron from the wound his body stilled again.

  “Bring me the poultice,” Mari said.

  Sora gave her the wooden bowl in which they had muddled her mother’s concoction of honey, witch hazel, sage, and calendula flowers. Mari had added some of the goldenseal root to it because she was so worried about infection. Working quickly, she packed the cauterized wound with the sticky, fragrant mixture.

  “Okay, now I just have to sew it up.”

  Sora handed her a threaded needle, and Mari set to work stitching up the wound. She was surprised how little it bothered her to sew flesh. She had, of course, watched Leda do it countless times, but she had only practiced on dead rabbits and pelts. I’m good at this, Mari realized with a happy little jolt of surprise. I’m really good at this.

  Together Mari and Sora wrapped the sutured wound carefully with clean bandages before laying him on his back and moving to his leg wound. Mari had already decided against stitching up the head wound. Once it had quit bleeding she’d realized that it hadn’t been as bad as all the blood had made it appear. But the leg wound was something else.

  “That’s really deep,” Sora said, moving to hold Nik’s ankles, though he remained unconscious and still.

  “Yeah, I’m going to clean it out and pack some of the leftover poultice I used in his back in it before I sew it up. But it worries me almost as much as his back.”

  Mari set to work, and time seemed to pause. She was so focused, so in a little bubble of concentration, that she didn’t notice Sora’s growing agitation until her hands were trembling so hard that she made Nik’s legs shake.

  “Sora, you have to hold still. I can’t—” Mari glanced up. Sora’s face was pale with pain, which contrasted eerily with the silver flush that was spreading across her skin.

  “I’m sorry. I’ve been trying to fight it, but—”

  “It’s not your fault. Go. You need the moonlight. Go now.”

  “But you need my help,” Sora spoke through teeth she’d gritted together against pain.

  “I need you to be whole and not filled with pain and depressed.”

  “I think I’m going to be sick.” Sora pressed a silver-tinged hand over her mouth.

  “Go on. You need to get outside in the moonlight.” Mari glanced at the pup, who had taken his spot in front of the door. Hands pressed against Nik’s leg wound, she shifted her concentration, imagining her young canine finding his way through the maze of brambles with Sora following him. “Rigel, lead Sora above.”

  “But he won’t!” Sora said.

  “Of course he will.” Mari turned back to sewing the nasty leg wound, sparing only one small glance at her pup as Sora opened the door for him and he went out, then turned and waited for the girl to follow. Thank you—you’re so smart and handsome and brave and kind. Thank you, Rigel! Mari sent the thought, along with a wave of love, to her Shepherd. Then, knowing Rigel wouldn’t let her down, she bent over Nik’s leg and resumed her work.

  * * *

  “That went better than I expected,” Mari said. Sora and Rigel had returned in time to help Mari bandage the newly sewn leg wound. They’d arranged Nik as comfortably as possible, half on his side, half on his back. And after putting the instruments in a goldenseal bath and gathering the bloody bandages, the two women were finally taking a moment to relax by the hearth, sipping tea and staring at the still body of their patient.

  “Me, too. I thought for sure he’d wake up and thrash around,” Sora said. “What was in that tea you gave him?”

  “Poppy juice and cannabis.” She glanced at Sora and felt herself smiling. “I wish I could take some myself right about now.”

  “Ha! Usually I would encourage you to make yourself a lovely sleeping potion, and then drag him out of here while you’re unconscious, but I’m so proud of all of that work we just did that I don’t think I could make myself do anything to mess it up.”

  “Well, that’s encouraging,” Mari said, and she meant it. Then she drew a long breath and turned to face Sora. “You did a good job toni
ght. I appreciate your help.”

  “Thank you!” Sora said, obviously surprised by Mari’s compliment.

  But Mari wasn’t through. “You’re going to make an excellent Moon Woman.”

  Sora’s face flushed pink. “That—that means a lot to me—you saying that.” Then, almost shyly, she added, “You reminded me of Leda tonight. She would have been proud of you.”

  Mari smiled. “She wouldn’t have let you kill Nik either.”

  “I realize that. Still, I would have recommended that she slit his throat.”

  “I’m sure you would have, and Mama would have given you a lecture on kindness and humanity that would have blistered your ears.”

  Sora’s gaze drifted back to Nik. “I don’t doubt that at all.” She turned back to Mari. “It’ll never work.”

  “It might work. If I can stay ahead of the infection I’m pretty sure he’ll heal. Well, that and if he doesn’t have a deadly internal injury that I’ve missed.”

  “No, I don’t mean that. I mean Earth Walkers and Companions will never coexist in peace. That will never work. There’s too much pain, too much violence between us. How could you ever trust them?”

  “Mama and a Companion fell in love. They made me. They wanted to coexist in peace,” Mari said.

  “And your father was killed for it. Mari, you can’t have both. You can’t be an Earth Walker and a Companion.”

  Mari’s gaze went to Rigel, who was lying beside Nik’s pallet sleeping soundly.

  “But that’s what I am—half one and half the other,” Mari said.

  “You’re going to have to choose which world is yours,” Sora said.

  Still looking at Rigel, Mari said, “I made my choice when Rigel found me.”

  “No, just because you have a canine doesn’t mean you have to live like a Companion. You can be part of the Clan. Mari, I believe they’ll accept you—as you are—because of your talents.”

  Mari snorted. “You’re going to be their Moon Woman, not me.”

  “But you could be, too! I’m not just talking about your Moon Woman talents. If you don’t want to draw down the moon, then fine—don’t draw down the moon. There’s a lot more to you than that. Your sketches are beautiful. You’re a gifted Healer, really you are. And even though you can be grumpy, you’re an excellent teacher. The Clan values all of those talents. I think they’ll overlook the fact that you’re part Companion and you have that creature if you share your talents with them. It’s not like it’s your fault, and with both of your parents gone there really isn’t anyone left to banish.”