Page 77 of Moon Chosen

“You can’t really blame me for being shocked.” Sora kept leafing through Mari’s pile of sketches as if they mesmerized her. “And I can’t believe you have all this talent and you didn’t share it with the Clan.”

“What was I supposed to do? Draw pictures for them? I didn’t know there was a big need for charcoal sketches amongst the Clan.”

“Now you’re being sarcastic,” Sora said, not taking her eyes from the sketches.

“Actually, I’m not. I honestly didn’t know anyone in the Clan would be interested in my drawings,” Mari said as she stirred their stew and added another handful of mushrooms to the aromatic mixture.

“Have you never been in any other burrow than this one?”

“Yes. I’ve been in the burrow Jenna shared with her father,” Mari said.

Sora scoffed. “That was little more than a male’s hovel. You’veneverbeen in any of the females’ burrows?”

Mari met Sora’s gray-eyed gaze steadily. Even though the subject was not a pleasant one, she was finding that it was freeing to be able to tell the truth. “I was barely five winters old when the sun-colored pattern started appearing under my skin. Until then Mama had dyed my hair, but hadn’t needed to do much else to cover what I am. I went everywhere with her then. Well, during the daylight I did. At night I would stay locked in here.”

“All by yourself? Even when you were so little?”

Mari nodded. “Some of my earliest memories are of falling asleep by the door so that I’d be sure to hear Mama knocking when she came home at dawn.”

“That must have been difficult for you, and for Leda,” Sora said.

“It wasn’t that bad. Mama and I had each other, and that was enough for us.” Mari turned back to the stew. “So, I have been in the females’ burrows, but I was too young to remember much. What sticks in my mind is that they seemed very big and full of lots of unusual things.”

“Yes, like artistic decorations—carvings and tapestries and such. I’m really surprised that Leda didn’t tell you about the beauty of the burrows. Your talent would be very much in demand if the Clan knew about it.” Sora looked around the little cavelike dwelling. “I’m also surprised that your walls aren’t decorated with murals you’ve painted. You can paint, can’t you?”

“Of course I can. Mama and I talked about me painting scenes on our walls, but as you can see, we decided to fill them with extra glowmoss and glowshrooms instead so that the light is better for me at night while I waited up for her to come home.” Mari pointed to the hearth. “I painted those.”

“They’re pretty.” She studied the delicate blue flowers that seemed to be growing across the mantel.

“They’re forget-me-nots. Mama’s favorites.”

“Like I said, they’re pretty. You’re an excellent artist. Your skills would be appreciated by the Clan—especially the teachers of the Clan. Those sketches of yours would really be helpful with teaching the children how to read and write.”

Mari peeled and smashed another garlic clove with her fist, stirring it into the cauldron, and then began chopping spring onions. She thought about what Sora had said, turning the idea around in her mind and trying to see Leda’s reasoning for keeping her talent a secret. Mari knew Leda had always thought first of her safety, and lived in terror that her secret would be discovered and Mari would be cast out of the Clan. She wondered, though, if maybe her mama had beentooworried about her secret. For a moment Mari imagined being appreciated by the Clan for something that was unique to her, and not tied to her mother, and she was surprised at the rush of longing that washed through her.

Rigel whined and his warm, strong body pressed against her leg. She looked down at him, smiling.

“It’s okay. I was just thinking about might-have-beens.” She patted his head.

“You talk to him a lot,” Sora said.

“Yep. He’s a good listener,” Mari said.

“You act like he can understand you.”

“He can.”

“Truthfully?”

“Truthfully.” Mari glanced at Sora and saw only curiosity in her expression, so she added, “Rigel and I are bonded for life. He chose me as his Companion. That’s more than just a title. It means that he and I are linked. I can feel his emotions and he can feel mine. And when I sketch a picture in my mind, and then imagine sending it to him, Rigel understands.”

Sora arched her dark brows. “Are you making that up to tease me?”

“No! I’m telling you the truth.”

“Can you show me?”

“How?” Mari asked.