Page 30 of Moon Chosen

“And all I want is for fate to let me be with you and Rigel forever.”

“Then you have been granted your wish, as you have him and me for as long as we draw breath. And think of the positive—once Sora is well and truly trained there will be more time for us—for the three of us,” Leda said, kissing Mari on her forehead. “Now, let’s apply the poultice to your young Shepherd before I have to go about the business of the night.”

Mari sighed, but nodded. Side by side they examined Rigel, pulling off the moss that was packed over his chest wounds while he wagged his tail and lolled happily in Mari’s arms, his gangly legs all a-splay, his paws too big for his body.

“I am so pleased by how fast he is recovering. The wounds were deep, and his blood loss truly concerned me,” Leda said, prodding the neatly scarring lacerations on Rigel’s chest. “But his appetite is excellent. His eyes are bright and his nose is wet and inquisitive.” Leda laughed as Rigel stuck his nose into her armpit and sniffed. “I see no sign of infection whatsoever. All I see is a healthy, happy canine who is growing at an incredible rate.”

“And look at his paws.” Mari lifted the pup’s paws, one at a time, offering them to her mother for inspection. “He doesn’t limp at all anymore.”

Leda passed her hands over each of Rigel’s paws before she ruffled the eagerly watching pup’s ears, saying, “His feet are completely healed. I proclaim that by the new moon his chest wounds will be naught but faded lines hidden by his fur.” He licked Leda’s face enthusiastically, making her laugh. “You are quite welcome, young Rigel.”

“Do you think he looks thin?” Rigel went to Mari and leaned against her, watching her mother as if he, too, was waiting for an answer.

“Perhaps a little, but he is a swiftly growing young canine. We’re doing our best to keep him at least semi-full of rabbit.” Leda’s gaze returned to the pup’s paws. “I think he’s going to be bigger than Orion, and Orion was an enormous canine.”

“Mama, what if I change the snares?”

“Change them? How so?” her mother asked.

“Make it so that they don’t kill the snared rabbit. I’ve been thinking about it a lot during the past few nights, and look what I came up with.” Mari hurried to the pile of sketches on her desk and pulled out a long sheet of paper that was filled with drawings of a strange-looking rectangular-shaped basket. “Do you think you could weave a basket like this?” Mari pointed at one of the more finished sketches. “With an opening that allows the rabbit to go in, but closes once the trap is tripped and won’t let him come back out, like this drawing, here.”

Leda studied the sketches. “I believe I could.”

“Good! Then all I need to do is to catch a male and a female, then it won’t be long and Rigel will have all the rabbit he can eat. Actually, we will, too!”

“You are remarkable, Mari,” Leda said. A small shiver passed through her body. She sighed wearily and the happiness that had been in her voice dissipated like dew before a summer sun. “I feel dusk approaching. The Clan will be at the Gathering in expectation of my announcement. I will be glad when this night is over.”

“Well, Rigel and I will be here when this night is over, waiting for you like always, and I promise to have your tea brewed and ready.” Mari purposefully lightened the mood, hating that as night drew near her mother looked more and more burdened.

“Then I will leave you early and, hopefully, return early as well. See, sweet girl, there is positive already happening in taking on Sora as apprentice. I will begin tonight in passing a few duties on to her.”

“You’re right, Mama. All will be well.”

“No more sadness and fretting?”

“No more,” Mari said brightly. “What can I do to help you get ready?” Mari said, determined to only show her mother support.Maybe Sora will be good for Mama, and for us.

In no time, Mari was saying good-bye to her mother and sliding the barring plank into its well-grooved slot. Though this night she did not take up her usual place at her desk. This night she stood, listening carefully at the door with Rigel sitting expectantly at her side. Mari glanced down at her Shepherd. “That’s right. Tonight is different. Tonight we follow her.”

10

Mari hurried to the pallet she shared with Rigel. From the ledge beside their bed she took down three small wooden cups. One held a thick clay substance, another charcoal mixed with dirt, and the third a dark dye made from walnut shells. Going to her desk she quickly used the mirror to check her reflection, reapplying dye and clay and dirt to cover her delicate features and camouflage the true color of her hair. When she was happy with her reflection, she rechecked Rigel’s chest wounds, being sure the sticky poultice was securely in place.

The pup had, as always, been watching her and moving around the burrow with her, preferring to stay as close as possible to Mari. He definitely felt Mari’s shift in emotion, and reflected her excitement with his own puppyish nervous energy—bounding around her, tongue lolling in expectation.

“Okay, we’re going to take it slow, but we are going after Mama,” she told him. “We’re just going to watch—to be sure everything is okay. She’s been talking so much about the restlessness in the Earth Mother that I can’t shake the feeling that something’s going to happen, and if it does we need to be there for her.” As she spoke, Mari went to a large basket full of smooth, robin’s egg–size stones. Carefully choosing several of them, she filled a leather pouch. Then she took her favorite leather sling and stuffed it into the pouch as well.

She paused before their collection of sharpened flint knives, picking the one she liked to use best for chopping, and added it to her pouch. Next Mari unhooked the precious goatskin bag that hung near the door and was a match to the bag her mother took with her every night. Out of a lifetime of habit, she lifted it, testing its fullness. Satisfied, she hung it across her shoulder and neck. Then Mari met Rigel’s bright, intelligent gaze and focused her thoughts into soothing emotion, which she telegraphed to him as she spoke. “It’s different tonight. We’re not just sneaking out so that you can relieve yourself. We’re goingout. We have to be silent. We can’t let them see us or hear us. No one can know we’re there.”

Rigel understood; she knew he did. It wasn’t like the canine answered her with words—that was impossible. It was a sense she had—a feeling of completion and understanding, one that grew and strengthened every day she spent with Rigel.

“Okay, we’re as ready as we’ll ever be. Let’s go.”

Mari opened the door and took her walking staff from its resting place. Rigel waited patiently for her to lead the way, holding aside the thick arms of heavily thorned brambles so that he could follow her without injury through the maze of hidden pathways around their burrow. As if he had been with her for years and not days, Rigel remained silent and close until they cleared the bramble thicket.

From there Mari had several choices of which way to go. Leda would be proclaiming her heir, which meant she would go to a Gathering Site that was larger and more easily accessed than the full moon site. Mari began to sift through the possibilities in her mind, trying to anticipate which would host that night’s important announcement.

It might seem as if the Clan was a ragged group of people, barely scratching out an existence from the earth, but that was far from true. Earth Walkers were highly social, with a complex system of Gathering Sites that had been molded into the skin of the earth between clusters of burrows. Mari’s Clan were skilled weavers, and they filled those burrows with hemp tapestries, dyed with delicate beauty, just as they wove incredibly intricate baskets, nets, traps, and even clothing. Clanswomen were undisputed rulers, making all decisions, from where new burrows and gardens should be built to which other Clans they should trade with and how often. They taught the children to read and write through the telling of ancient myths from a world that no longer existed anywhere except in the imagination.