Page 141 of Moon Chosen

Danita cried out in pain as she sat back on the mound of blankets and pelts. Carefully, Mari lifted her legs, arranging pillows under her knees.

Sora walked briskly past them, handing Mari a fistful of fragrant sage plants. She was carrying a dilapidated bucket that sloshed water on the floor from several of the holes in its battered metal. “This is the only thing I could find to boil water in. There’s not one kettle or skillet anywhere. Oh, and I didn’t see sign of anyone out there—man or woman.”

“They’re gone. They’re all gone,” Danita said.

“The Clansmen?” Mari asked.

“I—I hope so.” Danita pulled the blanket up to her chin, trembling again. “But I don’t know about them. It’s the women who are gone. All of them.”

“Wait, what?” Sora turned from hanging the bucket over the hearth fire.

“The Clanswomen left. They said Leda was dead. They said you’re dead, too, Sora.”

“Me? I’m definitely not dead.”

“Some of the women went to your burrow, hoping that maybe you could draw down the moon for them. They said your burrow was destroyed.”

“They were right. The men did it, but I wasn’t in it when they did it. I’ve been with Mari.”

“They think Mari’s dead, too. And Jenna.”

“Jenna’s captured, not dead,” Mari said. “Danita, are you sure all of the women left?”

“Positive. There was nothing to stay for except sadness and Night Fever. Some of the women went south to the Miller Clan. Some went to the coast to the Fisher Clan. And the men—the men are all completely mad. We had to get away from the men.” Tears started leaking down Danita’s face again, and Mari sat on the pallet beside her, smoothing back her hair.

“Why didn’t you go with them?” Mari asked gently.

“I did!” Danita hiccupped a little sob. “I was going with the group who chose the coast, but then I remembered the beautiful tapestry, there.” Her trembling hand pointed at the shredded curtain. “My grandmother wove it specially for the birthing burrow. I miss her—my grandmother.”

“Of course you do,” Sora said as she steeped Danita’s tea. “She was a wonderful weaver and a good Clanswoman.”

“See, you understand. When I realized the women had forgotten to bring it with them, I volunteered to go back for it.” She curled her trembling hand over her heart, pressing her other hand over it as if she was trying to calm the frantic beating inside her chest. “They came in while I was taking it down. They—they screamed at me to draw down the moon—to Wash them. It wasn’t even night!” Danita’s wide, liquid gaze flicked from Mari to Sora. “I told them I couldn’t. Not even if it had been night. And—and they—they attacked me.” Her shoulders shook with the force of her wrenching sobs. “They hurt me.”

Without speaking, Mari pulled the girl into her arms and, just as Leda had done so many times for her when she was hurt or sad or scared, Mari rubbed Danita’s back and held her close, letting her know she understood, she was safe, she wasn’t alone.

“The tea’s ready,” Sora said softly.

“Danita, Sora has a nice tea for you. It’ll help you feel better. Will you drink it?”

The girl hiccupped and nodded. Her hands were trembling badly, so Mari held the cup to her lips, then she helped her lie back.

“Do you mind if I wash you a little? Sora has warmed water over there.”

“I hurt,” Danita said. “Especially there.” She pointed between her legs.

“I know, honey,” Mari said. “I’ll be careful.”

At Mari’s nod, Sora dunked strips of bandages into the hot water and gave them to Mari before she went to Danita’s head and took her hand. While Mari washed and examined the girl, Sora kept up a steady stream of chatter, talking about everything from recipes for flatbread to the lack of rain until the girl’s eyelids fluttered and finally closed.

Mari motioned for Sora to follow her to the hearth, and they tiptoed to the other side of the room and tilted their heads together.

“How bad is she?” Sora asked quietly.

“Bad. She’s torn, but the wound’s several days old—too old to stitch. I washed and bandaged her with the sage leaves, but they abused her horribly. Sora, I don’t know if she’ll be able to have children.”

“What else can we do for her?”

“She needs rest and poultices to fight infection.”