Page 68 of Moon Chosen

Leda smiled up at her. She was sitting near the hearth, at her favorite spot for basket weaving. Her expression was filled with the familiar warmth and joy with which Leda had looked at her daughter for as long as Mari had memory. Gently, Mari’s finger traced the sketch, not realizing she was crying until her tears dropped with sad plopping sounds onto the paper. With fast, jerky movements, Mari wiped the dampness away and then, taking the sketch with her, she went to the pallet that used to be Leda’s, and that she now shared nightly with Rigel. Hugging the paper to her, Mari curled up with Rigel pressed against her back.

Only this night she didn’t fall so easily into an exhausted, dream-filled sleep. This night Mari remained awake for a long time, listening for screams and thinking… thinking…

21

Mari and Rigel woke at dawn. At first it had surprised her, how easy it was to align her waking and sleeping hours with the sun. If it was above the horizon—she was awake. If the sun had set—she and Rigel were heading to their bed. It actually made life easier, this ebb and flow of days that moved with the sun.

It was almost as if she’d forgotten the moon completely. Almost.

Mari fed Rigel and munched on dried apples while she worked on the live snares she’d been struggling with for the past several days. Weaving the last piece in place, she lifted a finished trap and smiled. “Rigel, I think I did it!”

The pup lifted his head from the bowl of rabbit stew and huffed happily at her, trotting to her as his whole body seemed to wag. Mari petted him and kissed the top of his head. “Go on—finish your breakfast. We’re going to set this trap and then go mushroom hunting.”

Rigel did as he was told, but his reaction to her smile and the excitement in her voice had Mari sighing and looking inward.

This is the first time I’ve smiled since Mama’s death.

The thought shocked her, though Mari wasn’t sure whether that was because she had actually smiled, or because Rigel’s reaction made her realize just how sad she had been—how sadtheyhad been.

“It’s not fair for you,” she told the pup, who stopped eating again to look at her, his tail wagging tentatively. “You deserve a happy family. Youhada happy family.” Rigel whined and, with an effort, Mari formed her lips into a smile again.For Rigel I’ll try. For Rigel I’ll smile.

As the Shepherd finished his breakfast he kept watching her while she applied the clay that thickened her features, focusing on her smile, his tail thumping against the floor of the burrow.

She almost didn’t camouflage her features, but habit and fear had her sitting at her desk, meticulously changing her reflection. But she didn’t reapply the hair dye.

“No more. I don’t care that my hair is different. I just don’t care,” Mari told Rigel, who huffed and seemed to agree with her.

When she was ready, Mari took the satchel she’d begun packing every evening before they went to sleep. She had a cutting tool, her slingshot and smooth stones, the bladder newly filled with lavender oil and saltwater—just in case they got caught outside around dusk and wolf spiders tracked them. Mari also wrapped up some leftover rabbit for Rigel and for herself a collard leaf wrap filled with a mixture of sunflower seed paste, spring onions, sprouts, and the last of Leda’s store of mushrooms.

“Okay,” she told Rigel as they paused just outside the burrow door. “We’re going to go away from the screams we heard last night. Good thing the early mushrooms are in the opposite direction, and not far from here. And I can set the live snare in the ash grove where we’ll be mushroom hunting. When I was there with Mama, both of us said it was an excellent place to set the trap.” Mari paused, letting the moment of pain pass that thinking of the everyday things she and Leda used to do always caused her. Then she brightened and tried, unsuccessfully, to smile at Rigel again. “But we’re still going to be really careful. And we’re going to practice a lot of this,” Mari concentrated, imaging Rigel crouched quietly, hiding just inside the door to the burrow.

Before she could speak the command, Rigel padded swiftly and silently back inside the burrow and crouched just inside the door.

“Good job! I’m so proud of you!” Mari squatted beside him, petting and kissing him while his tail tapped a drumlike beat against the door and he licked her face.

Sweet girl, don’t keep joy from him,Mari could almost hear her mother’s voice as she took up the staff and began to lead Rigel through the bramble thicket. Mari shook herself. She needed to concentrate on reality. Daydreaming was dangerous. She needed to save the dreaming part of her life for when she and Rigel were safely tucked into bed with their door barred against the dangers of their world.

As always they paused just inside the edge of the brambles. Mari looked and listened carefully, but even more carefully she watched Rigel. The pup always knew before she did if there were dangers near. When he showed no sign of being concerned, Mari stepped out of the thicket, held her arms out, and called “Up!” Rigel jumped neatly into her arms and she shifted him around so that most of his weight rested over her left shoulder, leaving her right arm and hand free. “You’re really getting heavy,” she told him, and he licked her ear. “Don’t! I’ll drop you and you’ll splat like a watermelon.” The pup put his wet nose against her neck and Mari almost giggled, but squatting to get the snare, and struggling with it and her half-grown pup, had her groaning with effort instead.

“Seriously, Rigel. I’m going to start lifting you in the burrow. Lifting you and putting you down. Lifting you and putting you down. I have to keep building my muscles, or you have to stop eating and growing—and I don’t think that’s going to happen.” Mari stepped out into the red cedar grove that edged their burrow, refusing to think about what she would do when Rigel was fully grown and weighed more than she did.

The morning was still foggy and cool, but by the time she was far enough away from the burrow that she could put Rigel down, Mari was sweating and breathing hard. “Uphill. The ash grove is downhill, but we have to climb up to get to the down part.” She shook her head and wiped her face with the back of her sleeve. “Next time I’m going to be smarter about this. I’ll carry you far enough away from the burrowdownhill, then we’ll circle around to start our climb. Okay, it’s just around that far curve in the trail and over the top of the ridge.” She wiped her face again and gestured for Rigel to follow her. “Let’s go trap some fat, fertile rabbits and find a bunch of mushrooms for dinner.”

As they made their way to the ash grove, Mari practiced sending Rigel images of tasks she wanted him to perform. First, and most important, was the hide command. Since Leda’s death, Rigel seemed to truly understand the importance of hiding. He’d stopped his puppyish scampering about, and the chewing and digging he used to do when he was supposed to be silently blending into the forest. So Mari tried more commands with him. She imagined him lying down, sent him the image she sketched in her mind, and then was pleased when the Shepherd immediately dropped to his belly.

“Good boy, Rigel! Good boy!” Mari smiled, petting the pup, who wriggled and huffed joyously. From then on, whatever Mari sketched in her mind, Rigel did—ifit made her smile.

“You’re kind of like a little blackmailer,” Mari told him, stroking his face. “And I know what you’re doing. You’re trying to make me be happy, and I love you for it.” She kissed his nose then and hugged him close to her, hoping for his sake, if not for hers, that someday she would be happy again.

They came to the bend in the path, and Mari automatically sent Rigel the hide command. He ducked into the foliage inside the curve where he was hidden from anyone coming or going on the path, but he could still keep Mari in his eyesight.

She rounded the curve and was just about to release the pup when she heard the cry of relief above her.

“There you are!”

Mari froze and stared up into the branches of a mighty maple. There was a frantic rustling, muffled cursing, and Sora half dropped, half fell, from the tree.

“Finally. I’ve been trying to find you for days.” Sora glared at her as she tried to smooth her dirty shift and pulled leaves out of her long, tangled hair.