Page 53 of Sun Warrior

Isabel took her hand. “Of course you are! I’ve seen what they did to you and to Danita. But, Sora, don’t worry. If Clansmen do find the Gathering you’ll do what any Moon Woman would do. You will command them to their knees and then Wash them.”

“I will.” Sora hoped saying it would make it so.

“I think you should Wash Jaxom first. Then if any males do find us he can help you keep order. I know you’ve put O’Bryan and Sheena to watching our perimeter, but…” She trailed off, chewing her lip.

“But they’ll kill our Clansmen.”

Isabel nodded slowly, eyes wide with worry. “I don’t want that to happen.”

“It won’t. I won’t let it. If they come I’ll Wash them. I’m their Moon Woman, and that’s what a Moon Woman does. Thank you for reminding me. And now I am ready.”

“Then allow me the honor of leading you to your Clan, Moon Woman.”

“Absolutely,” Sora said firmly.

Chasing all doubts from her mind, Sora followed Isabel out of the birthing burrow and around the stone pathway that led to the little clearing through which a clear, lazy stream flowed. Even before she rounded the bend and reached the point where she could look down at theunconventional Gathering spot, Sora could hear the melodic sounds of drumming mixed with the high, perfect voice of a flute. She could smell the campfires and, as the wind brushed lightly past her face, she caught the familiar scent of lavender and salt, which was always spread around a Gathering to ward off hunting packs of wolf spiders.

Isabel reached the lookout spot before she did. The young woman turned and met Sora’s gaze. Sora nodded. “I’m ready.”

Isabel turned back to the Clan and in a strong, young voice that cut through the playful music spoke the traditional announcement of a Moon Woman’s presence: “Our Moon Woman is here! Light the torches! Ready the Clan!” Then she hurried down the stone stairs to join the Gathering.

Sora took her place, looking down at her Clan. O’Bryan and Sheena were lighting the torches and taking positions at opposite sides of the circle that had been drawn by lavender oil and salt and framed by several campfires, with the main bonfire blazing in the center of the circle, close to the image of the Earth Goddess. Sora was particularly fond of this Goddess image. She was sitting cross-legged, her hands resting on her belly, fecund and swollen with child. Her skin was moss, and her hair was delicate ivy, flowing down to her thick waist. Her face was exquisite. It had been carved from a single opal, the color of the inside of oyster shells.Guide me, Earth Mother. Help me to be a proper Moon Woman.

The injured Companions rested together near one of the campfires to the right of the Goddess image. Sora could see they were watching the proceedings closely, but they looked more sleepy than worried or even nervous.Well, no wonder—after the poppy tea and spring mead they’ve been drinking.

The rest of the Clan were spread around the inside of the circle, and they were all looking expectantly up at her. Something about their like expressions suddenly reminded Sora of a nest of baby birds, and she had to stifle an inappropriate giggle.

Her gaze shifted to the one Clansman present, and her desire to giggle evaporated. Jaxom sat with his back to the thick log O’Bryan hadtied him to. He’d regained consciousness, but only barely. His face was turned up in her direction, but she didn’t see anything but the red glint of Night Fever in his eyes. She had, of course, drugged him as soon as she’d been able to pour the poppy-laced tea down his throat. Sora remembered the hopeless look in Jaxom’s eyes as she’d examined him—silently and quickly—noting the strange boils that had formed at the creases of his elbows, wrists, and knees, as well as the way he kept trying to claw at his skin, even though his hands had been securely tied.I’ve never seen Night Fever manifest on the skin like it has on Jaxom. I’ll need to talk to Mari about it, check Leda’s Healer’s journals, and then—

“Moon Woman! Our Moon Woman is here!”

The Clan’s call to her swept the jumble of thoughts from Sora’s mind. She gathered herself and started down the stairs, feeling the coolness of the stone steps under her bare feet and the soft night breeze against the skin of her naked legs. She’d wanted a proper Moon Woman’s dress—something as beautiful as Leda’s cloak. But there hadn’t been time, so Sora had decided to leave her legs bare and wear only a simple tunic she’d found in the rubble of the birthing burrow, decorated with embroidered flowers and ivy. She’d also braided baby’s breath, lavender, and ivy into her hair, in addition to the shells and feathers with which she always adorned herself.

Sora made her way to the Earth Goddess idol, bowing deeply before her.

“I greet you, Great Mother, as the Clan greets me—your Moon Woman, your servant—with love and gratitude and respect.” Then she straightened and faced the watching Clan. Now was the time to call the Clansmen to come forward, as they were always Washed first to alleviate their pain and their threat to the Clan.

Taking control of her fear, Sora walked to Jaxom. His eyes blazed red at her, and sweat dripped from his face. He was filthy and he smelled rank—his breath came in fetid pants and she could see that he was straining against the ropes that bound him. For a moment she had a flash of panic.What if he breaks free?Every inch of her body that had been bitten and battered and bruised when Jaxom and the two otherClansmen attacked her the day before ached. Her stomach heaved as she thought about what else they would have done to her had Nik not stopped them.They were going to rape me. Jaxom was going to rape me.And he would attack her again. Sora saw that clearly in his hate-filled expression and the gray tinge that already covered his broken skin.

Then from the edge of her vision a torch came into view, and O’Bryan was there—standing tall and strong, knife held out and ready, face set in grim lines as he positioned himself closer to Jaxom.

The women of the Clan moved closer to her as well. Some held torches. All wore expressions of grim determination. Jaxom would not get to her again—not while her Clan was near.

Sora straightened her spine and lifted her arms, concentrating on finding the moon that was there, even though the sun had too recently set for it to be visible. But Sora was a Moon Woman, and she could always find—could always call—the moon, as long as the sun had left the sky.

A sweet, soothing coolness spread from Sora’s fingertips down her arms, chasing away the hot gray flush that the sun’s setting had caused to mottle her skin and thus chasing away the depression that had begun to cloud her thoughts.

“Man of Clan Weaver, present yourself to me!” Sora commanded.

As if her words had an elemental power over his body, Jaxom shifted so that he was crouched on his knees, arms bound behind him to the log. He bowed his head.

Sora’s breathing deepened, became rhythmic—in for four counts, pause, out for four counts. She repeated the breathing three times and sent her silent, simple prayer to the Great Goddess,Let me be worthy of you, Earth Mother.

Then Sora began to speak the words she’d practiced over and over again the past several weeks. Ironically, she had chosen to use the moon-drawing invocation Leda had always used. She hadn’t thought to. She’d expected Mari to want to speak the same words her beloved mama had spoken to the Clan, but Mari had said no, that she had tofind her own invocation because she was her own kind of Moon Woman, one who was a mixture of Clan and Tribe, but she knew Leda would be pleased Sora wanted to use her words.

And Sora had very much wanted to use Leda’s words.

“Moon Woman I proclaim myself to be!