Page 84 of Moon Chosen

“It’s—it’s t-too hard!” Sora spoke around chattering teeth.

Mari gripped Sora’s hand tighter and added a sharp edge to her words. “If I can do it—you can do it. Try harder!”

Mari saw Sora frown. Her shoulders hunched with the effort. Beads of sweat dotted her smooth forehead. The hand she’d placed on the fern was trembling, but just when Mari was considering stopping the exercise the limp fronds of the fern began to straighten and swell.

“Oh,” Sora gasped. “It’s happening! I’m drawing down the moon!”

And as quickly as that Sora’s concentration broke. With a terrible convulsion she pulled her hand away from Mari’s, fell to all fours, and vomited rabbit stew beside the half-healed fern.

“It’s okay. This part will be over soon.” Mari held Sora’s thick hair back so she didn’t soil it.

Sora was shaking. Between retches she said, “It felt awful. But then it was better. Then awful again.”

“Yeah, I know. I’ve been there,” Mari said.

Sora sat back, wiping her mouth on her sleeve and grimacing in disgust. “You got sick, too?”

“More times than I can count. I thought about making sure you didn’t eat until we were done, but it’s worse if there’s nothing in your stomach to vomit. Dry heaves are horrible, and they last longer.”

Sora shuddered. “Good to know. So, I didn’t do too badly?”

“Actually, you did really, really well. Better than I did the first time I tried.” Mari drew a deep breath and told Sora the truth. “You’re gifted. Someday you’re going to be a powerful Moon Woman. Mama was right to choose you as her apprentice.”

Sora’s gaze met Mari’s. “Truly?”

Mari nodded. “Truly.”

Sora’s smile was bright and filled with happiness. “That almost sounded friendly.”

“Hey, don’t make me sorry for being honest with you,” Mari said, getting up from where she was kneeling beside Sora, but the girl grabbed her hand.

“Wait. I didn’t mean anything bad by that. What I should have said is thank you.”

“Well, then, you are welcome,” Mari said, seeing the sincerity in Sora’s clear gaze. “Now plant your fern and then let’s go to bed. I’m not used to being up all night anymore.”

“Plant my fern? Where?”

“Wherever you want. You saved it. It’s yours,” Mari said.

Sora’s smile widened to a grin. “Is that the rule? If you save someone or something it’s yours?”

Mari opened her mouth to tell Sora not to get ahead of herself when a tidal wave of shrieks washed around them, filling the night with inhuman sounds of Night Fever–induced madness. Then, the terrifying howls and cries coalesced to form two words that the men began crying over and over, sending spider leg chills skittering across Mari’s skin.

“MOON WOMAN! MOON WOMAN! MOON WOMAN!”

“Oh, Goddess! Where are they? They seem so close!” Sora curled in on herself, pressing her knees to her chest and rocking back and forth.

Mari looked to Rigel. He’d stood and was cocking his head, as if he, too, was trying to decide how close the men were. But his scruff didn’t stand on end like it did when danger was near. He trotted to Mari and leaned against her side. Instantly she was filled with confidence—reassurance. She patted his head and bent to kiss him on his muzzle.

“What are we going to do?” Sora’s voice was filled with fear and tears.

“They aren’t a threat to us tonight. Or at least, not if we stay here, inside the bramble thicket. And I’m going to do what the Moon Women who have lived here for four generations have done. I’m going to channel power to the thicket to be sure we stay safe.”

“Do you need my help?” Sora asked shakily.

Mari glanced at Sora. She was pale and sweaty and looked exhausted. “No. You’re done for the night. I’ll take care of the brambles. You take care of the fern.”

Then, before Mari could think about the fact that she had never empowered the brambles by herself before, she walked quickly to the image of the Earth Mother. As she’d watched her mama do countless times, she stood before the idol and lifted her arms so that her palms were facing the sky, open to the silver light of the moon. She closed her eyes and checked her breathing—one, two, three, four, five, six, in. And then—one, two, three, four, five, six, out. She repeated the controlled breaths until her heart wasn’t hammering against her chest and the cries of the Night Fever–mad Clansmen were as indistinct as the sloughing of the breeze through the thicket.