Page 4 of Moon Chosen

“You couldn’t disappoint me, no matter what path you choose for your life.” Leda paused, grimacing as a new tremor of pain swept through her body, and the silver tinge that had begun to appear on her mother’s delicate hands spread up her arms.

“Okay, Mama! I’ll come with you,” Mari said quickly, and was rewarded by her mother’s brilliant smile.

“Oh, Mari! I’m so glad.” Pain temporarily forgotten, Leda rushed into her room and Mari could hear her clattering through the pots and baskets and precious glass jars that held her vast collection of herbs, tinctures, and poultices. “Here it is!” she called, and then reappeared with a familiar wooden bowl. “Let me touch up your face. We’ll need to dye your hair again soon, but not tonight.”

Mari stifled a sigh and tilted her face up so that her mother could reapply the muddy mixture that kept their secret.

Leda worked in silence, thickening her daughter’s brow, flattening her high cheekbones, and then, lastly, smearing the dirty, sticky claylike substance down her neck and arms. When she was finished she studied Mari carefully, and touched her cheek gently. “Test it at the window.”

Mari nodded somberly. Followed by Leda, she went to the far side of the cave’s main room and climbed the rock steps up to a niche carved meticulously through layers of rock and dirt. She slid aside a long rectangular-shaped stone. Warm air swirled from the opening, caressing Mari’s cheek like a second mother. Mari stared into the hole to the upper world and the eastern sky, which was already reflecting the pale, washed-out colors that night painted over brilliant day. She lifted her arm so that the wan light from above touched her. Then she met her mother’s gaze.

Leda’s eyes, just like Mari’s, were so gray they were almost silver. Mari focused on the beauty of their shared trait.

Under the full moon, like her mother, Mari’s eyes would glow silver.

Like her mother, Mari’s skin would glisten as she basked in the full moon night and let its cool, silver light fill her and calm her.

Thinking longingly of the moon and the power it held, Mari’s hand stretched farther up into the hole, as if reaching for moonlight. But instead of finding the delicate silvery beams, her fingertips caught the yellow light of the fading sun. Her hand trembled at the inrush of heat and Mari pulled it quickly back to her, spreading her fingers and staring at the delicate filigree pattern that even such a small amount of sunlight had the ability to call to the surface of her skin. Mari hugged her hand to her chest while the sunlight-colored pattern faded like a lost dream upon waking.

Unlike her mother. She was so unlike her mother.

“That’s okay, sweet girl. Let’s take your summer cloak. It’s light enough that you won’t be too hot, but—”

“But the sleeves will cover my arms and hands until the sun has fully set,” Mari finished for her. With slow steps, she climbed down from the window and went to the basket that held her cloaks.

“I wish you didn’t have to hide. I wish it could be different.” Her mother’s voice was soft and sad.

“I do, too, Mama,” Mari said.

“I’m so sorry, Mari. You know I—”

“It’s okay, Mama. Really. I’m used to it.” Mari schooled her expression into nonchalance as she turned to face her mother. “And I may grow out of it.”

“No, my sweet girl, you won’t. Your father’s blood runs as truly in your veins as does mine and I wouldn’t change that. No matter the cost, I wouldn’t ever change that.”

I would Mama. I would.But Mari only thought the words as she wrapped her cloak tightly around her and followed Leda from the safety of their burrow.

2

Side by side, Mari and Leda topped the rocky rise in the land and looked down at the Gathering Site. At first glace the site appeared no different from any other small clearing within the swampy southern forest. There was a stream that wound through the willows and hawthorns, holly and ferns—the stream and the lazily waving boughs of the trees and shrubs were what purposely drew the eye. It took more than a glance, or even a second or third look—at least from the distance of the rise—to see the truth cunningly hidden among the ferns and foliage. In neat clusters early kale, lacy endive, fat tufts of butter lettuce, and late-winter garlic flourished under the care of the Clanswomen.

Leda paused and drew a deep, satisfied breath. “Thank you, Earth Mother,” the Moon Woman spoke as if the Goddess, and not her daughter, was standing beside her. “Thank you for gifting your Earth Walkers with the ability to coax living things from your fertile bosom.”

Mari breathed deeply with Leda and smiled, used to the intimate way she spoke with her Goddess. “I can smell the lavender oil from here,” Mari said.

Leda nodded. “The Clanswomen have done a good job readying the Gathering Site. No wolf spider pack will get anywhere near here this night.” She paused, pointing to the carefully situated campfires. Only one was in the center of the Gathering. The others were strategically placed all around the circumference of the space, with torches planted nearby. “And the firestarters are ready in case a swarm is attracted by so many of us in one place.”

“I know the fires are for protection, but being lit up like that makes the whole clearing look happy.”

“It does indeed,” Leda agreed.

“I hope the purple kale is ready to harvest soon,” Mari said as they began picking their way down to the Gathering Site. “I can almost taste how delicious it’ll be mixed with those capers we pickled.”

“It has been warm early this spring,” Leda said. “I wouldn’t be surprised if a bunch will be ready tonight.”

“That alone will be worth the trip,” Mari said.

Leda’s glance was sharp. “Mari, I didn’t force you to join me.”