“Not now,” Sasha pressed.
Pita, confused and a little hurt by Sasha’s sudden change of attitude, pulled out of her grip and stalked off towards the car.
Chapter 8
“Look, I’m sorry I snapped at you about the wolf thing, Pita.” Sasha stared out the passenger side window in silence for several minutes as if considering something. She continued as she turned to face Pita, “Remember the story I told you earlier about the wolf?” Pita nodded but kept her eyes on the road. “Well…I don’t think it’s a good idea to discuss wolves with him. I’m not sure how he will react. I can still see the panic in his face when he discussed it with my mother. He was really scared.”
She glanced over at her friend and nodded again. “I understand.” Pita turned her eyes back to the road, and then asked. “What is it about wolves that make the Roma so uncomfortable?”
“They are said to be associated with the muló… evil spirits. Some say they are shapeshifters, meaning they can change from animal form to human or that when a soul is vengeful for some bad deed done to them in life, the soul enters a wolf and carries out its revenge.”
“Do you believe that stuff, Sash?”
“I don’t know, but my parents do.” Her tone bordered on tired, distant. Pita wondered what had caused her friend’s sudden mood swing since leaving her parents’ house.
“Do you believe it possible? This shape shifting thing? I’ve read fiction novels, even actual non-fiction case documentations about shapeshifters, wereanimals, etcetera, but I’m not sure if I believe it’s possible.” That is until recently, Pita thought.
“Well…I guess anything is possible. I would have to see it to believe it, though.” Sasha’s laughter broke the tension within Pita, and eased her friend back into their original playful mood. Sasha winked at Pita and commented. “Ask my dad, he’ll swear that it’s a fact of life, in Romania anyway.”
****
Having made it into the house without further wolfish incident, they settled in Pita’s cozy living room. The girls parked themselves upon a faux suede covered couch. The soft material always tempted its occupant to burrow into its depth and go to sleep. Pita sat Indian style on one end, and Sasha sat with legs curled under her, on the other end.
“I really love what you’ve done in here, Pita,” Sasha said glancing around the room. “I love the muted rose and sage colors you’ve carried through the room. Great choice, and you know I’ve always loved that picture window. I’m so glad you didn’t cover it with heavy drapes. The verticals work well.”
“Thanks. I think it came out pretty well myself,” Pita admitted. Her eyes slid to gaze out the window as her mind finished her inner thought, the verticals’ present position came in handy with blocking out the visions of mind-invading, peeping Tom wolves. Satisfied that nothing watched from outside, she turned her attention back to her friend. “Listen, Sash. What do you think about going to Romania with me?”
Her friend turned slowly to face her. “You’re really considering going?”
“It’s really the only way I can think of to find out where I came from. You got a better idea?” Pita lifted her glass and took a swig of the diet cola.
“No,” she said simply.
“Do you think your family could do without you at the shop for a while?”
“I don’t know. I’ll have to see how things look. However, it is the end of our busy season with winter coming.” She grinned. “Not much call for decorative wrought iron when everything’s buried in snow. I’ll talk to mom and dad about it. Perhaps we could stay with my Aunt Dorina.” She tapped her thumbnail against her glass thoughtfully. “It would be fun to see her, and my cousin, Tomas again.”
“Okay, I’ll look into some travel planning, and you let me know what your parents say.”
“Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Yes.” Tossing Sasha an emphatic nod, she continued with heartfelt conviction. “I need to find my past. It seems I won’t know where I’m going until I find out where I’ve been.” She suddenly felt a huge weight lift with the clear sense of a plan. I’m taking a step to discovery. To discover who I really am.
“Getting a bit profound, aren’t we?”
Both laughed.
“I have no idea where that came from. Only that I feel better than I have in the last several days. I have a plan, and I have a direction.”
A pillow sailed across the gulf between them and bounced off Pita’s face. “Enough already. You’re frightening me with all this prophetic soul searching.”
The pillow took flight again, hitting Sasha in the chest.
“All right, all ready.” Pita giggled. “You don’t have to get violent.”
The distant, mournful howl of a single wolf sliced through the wood-framed walls and neatly cut off the relaxed ease of the girls’ banter. Pita snuck a peek at Sasha; from the surprised, tense expression on her friend’s face, she knew it hadn’t been her imagination.
****
Pita ran fast, faster than she’d ever run before. Her steps landed sure and confident, despite the darkness that blanketed the forest. Pale, speckled moonlight struggled through the dense canopy overhead. The trees and the path both held the familiar terrain of the wooded area that surrounded her property. Tonight, however, it stretched, large and open, with a foreign feel to it. The trees seemed larger and much older; a forest of ancient pines, fallen needles formed a thick carpet underfoot.
Muscles tensed and bunched with each thrust of her legs and…
Oh! Wait a minute! I’m on all fours.
Glancing at her surroundings as strong legs carried her gracefully, fluently over the uneven forest terrain; she realized everything appeared sharper, every leaf and every stone stood out with perfect clarity as if it had been captured in 3D photography.
I am wolf!
She scented the air. Her face turned up, her nostrils flared and twitched. The sweetness of the damp soil mixed with the pungent scent of rotting leaves. Her pace slowed to a trot.
How is this possible? What is happening to me?
Even through the confusion, the call of the wild beckoned to her, freeing her spirit, and crashing through her blood like adrenalin. Pita’s nerves tingled with the new sense of freedom.
Stretching her muscles to a full run once again, she leapt over fallen tree trunks, splashed through cool streams, and finally jumped upon a flattened outcropping of rock. She sat panting, allowing herself to cool and her rapid heartbeat to slow.
Wolf ears prickled at a multitude of sounds. Her head tilted trying to differentiate the cacophony of noise. Pita heard insects, the wind in the trees. In the distance, automobiles rumbled on asphalt, dogs barked, and the water in the spring gurgled. She concentrated on one sound and realized she could tune out the rest.
While she rested upon the rock ledge with the full moon washing its silvery light around her making the world look like it were forged in black, white, and grays, a strange shrill sound assaulted her delicate ears. She shook her head viciously, but the abrasive noise continued to wreck the peacefulness of the ebony forest ridge.
Pita awoke still shaking her head and realized the telephone was ringing. She glanced at the clock and saw it was 8 a.m. Rolling over, she grabbed for the handset.
“Hello?”
“Good Morning. Please hold for an important message.” An electronic voice droned.
“Ugh!” Pita slammed the phone back into its cradle. “How can they be allowed to do that at this time of the morning?” she complained as she pushed herself to a sitting position, scrubbed her hands over her face and then combed her fingers through her hair. She leaned back against the headboard and tried to recall the details of the dream the phone call had interrupted.
“That was awesome,” she breathed. The sensation of the dream ebbed away like the pull of the outgoing tide, but bits and pieces of it still played in Pita’s mind: the intensity of sight, smell, and hearing; the sense of freedom and open space as sh
e ran through the forest. She tried to analyze the dream, but the only thing that came to mind was the fact that she had wolves—well at least one wolf—on her mind, lately, along with the strange things that had happened the last couple of weeks. Coupled with the discussion of shapeshifters yesterday, it seemed a natural explanation for the dream.
She pushed off the bed and padded across the carpeted bedroom to the bathroom. Pita splashed some cold water on her face and gazed into the mirror.
I was the wolf…
Chapter 9
Pita found herself once again in Floricita’s cheery kitchen. Aching to tell someone about the strange events of the last few weeks, she opted to contact the seer. Not able to bring herself to tell Sasha, her instincts told her she could trust the little woman across the room preparing tea. Lord knew she needed to trust someone to not have her certified as mad.
Floricita turned to face her. “What is troubling you, child?” She measured tea into the china pot, poured the hot water into it and continued, “You have a haunted look in your eye.”
“I am feeling more stalked than haunted these days.” Pita smiled weakly. “I didn’t know who else to talk to about this, Floricita.” She twisted her hands anxiously on the surface of the table.
“What has happened?” Floricita approached the table with the teapot, sat, and poured two cups of the steamy, fragrant liquid.
“Well…” she hesitated trying to find the right words. “I’ve been seeing a wolf.” She told Floricita about the incident after she had been here last. “It is trying to communicate with me. It, sort of, gets inside my head. I guess you’d say, psychically.” Pita stared at her hands afraid to look up into the woman’s eyes; afraid of what she’d see reflected there. Was she cracking up? Wolves just don’t communicate with people. In fact, they try to stay as far away from humans as possible. Ha! Voices in my head. It even sounds crazy to me.
Floricita’s gentle touch on her tightly clasped hands brought her out of her thoughts, and Pita looked into kind, dark eyes. “Don’t worry, child, you are not crazy.” She smiled.
Pita breathed a heavy sigh of relief. “I really thought I was losing my mind. What is happening? This kind of stuff only happens in movies; not real life.”
“There are many unexplained things in life, my dear. Things only a chosen few will ever experience. Most people walk through life with closed minds and eyes. They do not experience the full wonders of what is truly around them. You have a gift, Pita. You must find your purpose.” Floricita nudged the teacup toward her. “Drink my dear.”
With shaky hands, Pita lifted the delicate china, swirled it carefully and then sipped the spicy tea. Its warmth felt good as it slid down her throat. She drank slowly and began to feel more relaxed.
Pita put the cup down and reached for her handbag on the chair beside her. “Oh, I almost forgot.” She pulled out the three pictures and laid them on the table between them. “I found these. They were taken in Romania, apparently my birthplace. I’ve written the translations under the phrases. I thought you might want to see them.”
Floricita ran a wrinkled finger over the photos then picked each one up and examined it. “These were taken in the Carpathian Mountains.” She spoke low almost to herself.
“Are you from Romania?”
“No, but we roamed Europe when I was but a child. We passed through those mountains.” She caressed the photo then said trance-like, “You must go to Romania, child. That is where you will find your answers.”
Pita gasped and choked on a sip of tea.
“Are you all right?” Floricita asked her tone normal once again.
Pita nodded when the coughing subsided. “I can’t believe you said that. It’s one of the reasons I came to you today. I wanted to ask you about going to Romania.” Pita cleared her throat then continued, “I wanted to know if you had any advice or would be able to see anything I might need to know, if I am saying that right.”
“Finish you tea, child, and we’ll see what the leaves tell us. Now what is it you sense from the wolf?”
“Well…” Pita searched for a way to describe the experience. “It was as if a curtain slid over my mind, no…” she shook her head vigorously, “that’s not it. I really don’t know how to describe the feeling but, I heard a whispered voice in my head. It told me it wants to bring me home, not to be afraid. I didn’t sense any malevolence but…still…I, well…I was afraid.” Pita implored Floricita. “What is happening to me?” She took the last sip then handed the seer the cup.
“I am not sure. Perhaps the answers lie within you, my child. Let’s see if the leaves will help.” She gazed into the cup for several seconds, then placed it on the table so both could easily see within its bowl.
Pointing a finger at the inner edge, she said, “See that forked line? It signifies a decision that you must make. This grouping here, it appears to be in the shape of a question mark, means that caution is indicated.” She spun the teacup. “The only other symbol I see is this area that resembles a comb. It means an enemy will show itself or is known already so, beware of the actions of others.”
“Hmmm…” Pita sighed. “I was hoping the leaves would say something about traveling.” Then on second thought said, “but then, they did say I had a decision to make, didn’t they?”
Floricita nodded and smiled. “Yes, my dear, they did.”
“A month ago, I’d have never thought I’d be sitting here having the tea leaves read once let alone for the second time and actually accepting what they say.” Pita shrugged. “No offense,” she added quickly. “It’s just funny how fast things can change.”
“None taken, but life is always changing.” The older woman stood and collected the cups and saucers, then ambled over to the sink. “You must follow the wolf’s advice, my dear.” She turned; her piercing dark eyes took Pita’s captive. “You must go home. You must go to Romania.”
A chill ran through Pita’s body like an icy blade at the knowing tone of the seer’s voice.
“You must find your roots, your calling. Of this, I am sure. I feel it and soon you, too, will feel it, my child.” She turned back to the sink and began softly humming.
Chapter 10
Pita walked, engrossed in her thoughts. The afternoon proved cool, but the sun shone warm though the canopy of trees. Their thick branches alive with birds chirping and swooping to and fro, while small skittering things rustled through the undergrowth. She sighed, allowing the sounds and sights to fill her. Pita felt as if she communed with the woodland, as if she belonged here. Odd, though, the compulsion she felt to be here at this particular time, in this very spot.
She stepped into a small clearing and gasped in awe at the sight. To her right, a crystal, clear stream gurgled and splashed gently over large water-smoothed rocks. Late blooming meadow flowers splashed a pallet of lavender, yellow, pink, and white swaying gently on emerald stems in the light autumn breeze. Pita walked to the spring’s edge and sat upon a fallen tree trunk.
In her mind, she went over the events of the last few days and Floricita’s warnings and advice. If she wanted to pursue this, she would have to go to Romania.
Should she go by herself? What had happened to spook Sasha’s father? A whole lot of questions and no concrete answers. Added to this was Floricita’s cryptic warning, “Beware…an enemy will show itself.” Who? When?
Pita picked a small pebble from the ground and tossed it into the stream. She watched it sink the short distance to the bottom. Several small fry chased it, thinking it food.
She watched as the fry swam upstream, her gaze following them as they darted back and forth in unison. In the mirrored surface of the water, she saw the reflection of a grey wolf. Pita froze, fear prickled like fingers of ice up her spine. It stood no more than a yard behind her on an outcropping of rock. Amber eyes studied her. Pita didn’t dare move.
Don’t panic. Oh God, but that is exactly what I want to do.
She stared at the surface of the stream. The
wolf did not move, but she sensed it knew she was aware of it. That fuzzy sensation sloughed over her mind pushing back her fear. Pita tensed. She felt the connection then, the voice filled her head.
“Do not fear me. I can help you.”
She turned to face the animal. “I am afraid. How is it you can communicate with me?” she whispered.
The wolf jumped down off the rock and approached her. She scooted a couple of feet along the log away from the animal.
“I will not harm you, Pita. Be still,” it said in a gentle tone. The inflection sexless, soothing, a non-descript voice.
“What do you want from me?” she asked, her voice trembled.
“I want to guide you to your heritage, your birthright.” It moved closer to her and sat on its haunches. The amber eyes seemed to smile as the tongue lolled out to one side of its mouth reminding Pita of a doggy grin. She felt comforted by its expression.
“What birthright?” She asked.
“Who you are and what your purpose is, of course.” The wolf lay down and rested its head on outstretched forepaws. “I will guide you. You will know of me very soon, though, not as I am now. Beware. Others will offer you assistance, but only serve to deceive. They will stop at nothing to thwart your purpose. “
Pita stared at the animal. Purpose? What purpose?
Floricita’s words came to her once again. “How do you know this? Who…” She clamped a hand over her mouth and stood up. This isn’t happening. Shaking her head, she turned, and walked away. Fighting the urge to run, Pita quickened her pace. She knew, without glancing back, the wolf still lay where she’d left it. The connection faltered then broke in her mind like the snap of a twig. She turned, unsurprised to find the wolf gone.
****
Locked securely within her house, the strangeness of the situation hit her full force, and Pita began to shake. She dropped heavily onto the sofa and hugged her arms around herself.
Curse Of The Marhime Page 4