Page 116 of Moon Chosen

Mari smiled back at her. “Really. But don’t get too excited. I’m pretty sure Nik can’t even sit up, let alone attack you.”

“Well, it’s a nice sentiment anyway.” Sora reached over and tentatively patted Rigel on the head. Once. The pup’s tail thumped the ground. Once.

Mari crouched beside Rigel. “Watch Nik and Sora, but if anyone comes, youhide.” She stared into Rigel’s eyes, sketching pictures in her mind to illustrate what she needed him to do—and not to do. The young canine wagged his tail and made generally agreeable noises, sending soothing, warm feelings to her. “Okay, I believe you. I’ll be back soon. Real soon. And I love you.” Mari kissed him and then sprinted past Sora, calling, “Come on!”

She stayed ahead of Sora on the way back to the bathing pools, which wasn’t difficult to do. The girl seemed to have no stamina at all.

“Don’t you ever do anything physical?” Mari asked as Sora stumbled down the bank and bent over, gulping air.

“Not—if—I—can—help—it!” she gasped between breaths.

“Take these to him.” Mari tossed one of her oldest tunics and a sleep dress to Sora. “Rub him dry with the tunic, but stay away from those wounds. Then cover him with the shift. I’ll meet you back there with the litter and something to, hopefully, make him sleep until we get him to the burrow.”

“Wait, we’re carrying him on a litter all the way back?” Sora glanced pointedly behind them at the steep rocks that led up to the path. “Down that?”

Mari smiled. “Well, it’s better than having to carry himupthat.” Without waiting for Sora’s response, she finished gathering the clean clothes and then jogged for home.

33

All the way back to the burrow Mari sifted through her mind, trying to recall everything Leda had taught her about caring for someone as badly injured as Nik. The spearhead stuck in his back was going to be tricky. It made Mari feel queasy just thinking about what she was going to have to do—pull it out—wash it out—and then use one of Leda’s cautery rods to burn the bleeding veins and kill whatever terrible infection might have already settled within the wound.

That was bad, but not as bad as an internal injury would be. Her mama had called internal injuries the silent death. Mari knew how to check for them—she’d given Nik a cursory once-over and hadn’t seen any sign of internal bleeding. “But I’m not a real Healer. I could have missed something.” Mari chastised herself as she came to the bramble thicket, grabbed her walking stick, and quickly traversed the maze that led to the burrow.

Mari tried to shake off her fear and her feelings of inadequacy. Moving with much more confidence than she felt, she went to her mother’s medical pantry and began choosing carefully while she recounted aloud what she needed so that she wouldn’t forget anything.

“Valerian root to, hopefully, help him pass out on the trip here.” Mari began quickly brewing a thick, strong tea that she would pack in the medicinal skin and carry back to Nik. “A blanket and ropes—need to tie him to the litter so we can slide him down those rocks.” Mari paused and shook her head, muttering to herself. “That’s going to hurt.” She went back to the medicinal pantry and stood there staring, feeling helpless, and missing Leda with such force that it almost knocked her to her knees. She wanted to give in to the despair. She wanted to curl up within herself and cry and cry and cry…

But she couldn’t. No one would save her. No one would help her, or Rigel, or Sora, or even the Companion, Nik.Think, Mari! Mama was a great teacher. She taught you everything you need to know—now you just have to remember.

And then, feeling foolish and very young, Mari turned from the medical pantry and rushed to the lovingly carved wooden chest that sat at the end of her mother’s sleeping pallet, and had been passed down from one Moon Woman to another for more generations than even Leda could remember. Mari paused. She hadn’t opened the chest since Leda’s death. Slowly, she lifted the lid and breathed deeply of the fine rosemary scent that would, for the rest of her life, remind Mari of her mother.

Sitting atop neatly folded blankets and winter clothes was her mother’s Healer’s journal. She touched it gently, feeling the texture of its aged cover with the tips of her fingers. All children of the Clan were taught to read and write and to discover their individual talents as they grew and matured. Clanswomen encouraged creativity and hard work, and whenever a child displayed a particular talent—like for poetry, carpentry, hunting, weaving, or dyeing—that child was given further instruction, even if it meant fostering them with a neighboring Clan. But from birth the daughters of Moon Women were trained differently. They were nurtured specially by their mothers because in their future they could hold the key to the Clan’s health, sanity, and, ultimately, the Clan’s history recorded in their Healer’s journals.

“Mama’s journal—Mama’s magickal journal,” Mari murmured. “No matter how many times you explained to me that your journal wasn’t full of fantastical stories, but of nothing more, or less, than the truth of the Clan, I always thought of it as your special magick.” She opened it, and it fell to a page that was marked by the brilliant blue feather of a jay. Mari’s trembling fingers traced Leda’s familiar handwriting.

“Mari, my sweet girl, do your best, but don’t second-guess yourself. Indecision is as deadly as not doing anything. If you believe in yourself half as much as I believe in you, all will be well. I love you.”

For just a moment it was as if Leda was there with her, standing beside her, lending Mari confidence through the strength of the belief she always had in her beloved daughter. Mari hugged the journal to her. Then she wiped her eyes, collected herself, reopened the book, and began to thumb through the pages.

***

The Skin Stealers led Thaddeus through their ruined City at a pace that had him struggling to carry Odysseus and keep up with them. Then a very strange thing began to happen. About the time the waterfront came into view, it seemed to Thaddeus that he found his second wind. Suddenly Odysseus didn’t feel heavy. The pain and burning that had been his secret companion for the weeks since the stag’s blood had soaked into his body from his eyes and mouth stopped.

Just like that. As it had begun—the pain ended.

Thaddeus drew a deep, pain-free breath and in that breath he smelled something. A lot of somethings. He could smell the water, though it was barely close enough to see. He smelled something sharp and dirty—and at the edge of his vision he saw a rodent the size of a rabbit dart from one of the ruined buildings to another.

I smelled the rodent! How the hell did I do that?

He caught the scent of something sweet and fragrant when the wind changed direction. It seemed like jasmine, but he saw none in the vines around him. Then they turned the corner, and another. He almost missed it because it was so damn small. Just two little vines being choked out by ivy, but the two vines together had four small white flowers.

I smelled jasmine well before I should have, even if it had been a huge, blooming bush and not four tiny, wilting flowers. What is happening to me?

“This way. We beached the little boat down there.” The Skin Stealer called Iron Fist pointed at the river.

Thaddeus nodded and changed direction to where he was pointing. The Skin Stealers moved in almost complete silence. All of them wore only pants made of roughly tanned animal skins. Their heads were shaved and their bare torsos were painted with strange splashes of lines and symbols that decorated their arms, chest, and even necks and heads. As Thaddeus studied them he noticed that all of the designs were repeated in threes—like the triple tip of the huge spear the statue of their God carried. There were only men in the party that surrounded him, but he would not soon forget the women that had stood watching him on the scaffold, silent and strangely alluring. The oddest of all of them had been the eyeless girl who was obviously mated to their Champion. The caverns that should have been her eyes would haunt his future dreams as surely as would the memory of her nubile breasts, full lips, and the thick fall of glossy brown hair that brushed the slender curve of her waist.

“There. Your boat is there.” Iron Fist had come to a halt at the top of the bank that led down to the river.