Read Online Harvest Moon by Krista D Ball - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Krista D Ball
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All of Battle Cliff’s bands would gather together in the next day or so to dance and celebrate the Harvest Moon before the snow came. She would have to carry on for another year without the prophetic guidance of her ancestors.
Or, would she?
Her flesh turned to goose flesh as a crow squawked. She wondered if the bird had heard her disobedient thought. She had long desired to consult the sacred bundle for it held the power of prophecy. Through it, she could learn if the ancestors had also abandoned her. With that knowledge, she could decide her own fate instead of leaving it in the cruel hands of her grandmother.
She looked around, but there was no one in sight. Cautiously, she approached it, still carrying her basket of bladders. Her heart pounded and not only at being alone in the presence of the most sacred and honored item she had ever known. She would certainly be left to starve if caught standing there.
The magic of the bundle was only for the Caretaker blessed with the training to consult it, for its power was dangerous if not handled properly. As Cursed One, she would never be allowed in its presence. A rebellious wave washed over her. She had already been named Cursed One.
There was no further indignity left for them to inflict, other than kill her, something she wanted to do to herself nearly every day for the last two years.
“Just a peek,” she said, creeping closer to the trivet. She reached out to touch the bundle, only to recoil from the freezing fingers of magic that grabbed her hand. She had not expected it to have such strength.
Taking several breaths to regain her nerve, she took the sacred bundle into her hands. The invisible, icy touch of magic twisted its way over her body. Goose fleshcovered her skin, making her hair stand on edge. She recited a chant from her childhood to help keep her safe and calm her fears. A crow landed in front of her and shrieked in anger. She ignored the bird.
Although Dancing Cat had seen the Caretaker open the sacred bundle before, she wasn’t convinced that she knew the correct sequence to open it. Legend had it that great mishaps would happen if it was not done properly. Still, it was worth the risk. The very worst that could happen would be her death.
No, she thought. The very worst would be nothing happening at all.
She knelt and placed the bundle on the mossy ground. The beaded cloth was stiff with age. The dried leaves that separated each cloth layer crackled. Dancing Cat wondered if they were the original leaves or had been replaced periodically. Either way, she did not want to take the chance. She cautiously unfolded each sheet, always careful not to lose the delicate, dried leaves.
The faint tickle of onion scented the air on the fourth unwrapping, and she saw the final leather pouch.
She was almost certain the pattern was North-South-East-West and started to ply back the corners. Dancing Cat whispered to the Creator and the Spirits to forgive her desperation.
Needing to know if the ancestors had abandoned her in this life surpassed any desire to be a good woman.
Underneath the final layer sat a palm-sized pouch, covered in gleaming black beads. She pulled it open and the magic pressed harder against her, turning her fingers blue with cold. She ignored the freezing pain and gaped in awe at the contents in front of her. Inside were two arrowheads from when the first war ended and a string of red beads made from Battle Cliff’s oddly-coloured pebbles. She eyed a small bone and her heart skipped a beat. She knew from the stories that it was the finger bone of the tribe’s first Caretaker, who walked with the Creator and learned the secrets of the hunt.
Scared, Dancing Cat looked around her. Still alone. Deciding she would never get another chance, she prayed aloud. “Ancestors, help me find my path. Reveal a glimpse of my future so that I can decide if you want me to continue living in this world. My tribe has cursed me. I seek to know if you have
Or, would she?
Her flesh turned to goose flesh as a crow squawked. She wondered if the bird had heard her disobedient thought. She had long desired to consult the sacred bundle for it held the power of prophecy. Through it, she could learn if the ancestors had also abandoned her. With that knowledge, she could decide her own fate instead of leaving it in the cruel hands of her grandmother.
She looked around, but there was no one in sight. Cautiously, she approached it, still carrying her basket of bladders. Her heart pounded and not only at being alone in the presence of the most sacred and honored item she had ever known. She would certainly be left to starve if caught standing there.
The magic of the bundle was only for the Caretaker blessed with the training to consult it, for its power was dangerous if not handled properly. As Cursed One, she would never be allowed in its presence. A rebellious wave washed over her. She had already been named Cursed One.
There was no further indignity left for them to inflict, other than kill her, something she wanted to do to herself nearly every day for the last two years.
“Just a peek,” she said, creeping closer to the trivet. She reached out to touch the bundle, only to recoil from the freezing fingers of magic that grabbed her hand. She had not expected it to have such strength.
Taking several breaths to regain her nerve, she took the sacred bundle into her hands. The invisible, icy touch of magic twisted its way over her body. Goose fleshcovered her skin, making her hair stand on edge. She recited a chant from her childhood to help keep her safe and calm her fears. A crow landed in front of her and shrieked in anger. She ignored the bird.
Although Dancing Cat had seen the Caretaker open the sacred bundle before, she wasn’t convinced that she knew the correct sequence to open it. Legend had it that great mishaps would happen if it was not done properly. Still, it was worth the risk. The very worst that could happen would be her death.
No, she thought. The very worst would be nothing happening at all.
She knelt and placed the bundle on the mossy ground. The beaded cloth was stiff with age. The dried leaves that separated each cloth layer crackled. Dancing Cat wondered if they were the original leaves or had been replaced periodically. Either way, she did not want to take the chance. She cautiously unfolded each sheet, always careful not to lose the delicate, dried leaves.
The faint tickle of onion scented the air on the fourth unwrapping, and she saw the final leather pouch.
She was almost certain the pattern was North-South-East-West and started to ply back the corners. Dancing Cat whispered to the Creator and the Spirits to forgive her desperation.
Needing to know if the ancestors had abandoned her in this life surpassed any desire to be a good woman.
Underneath the final layer sat a palm-sized pouch, covered in gleaming black beads. She pulled it open and the magic pressed harder against her, turning her fingers blue with cold. She ignored the freezing pain and gaped in awe at the contents in front of her. Inside were two arrowheads from when the first war ended and a string of red beads made from Battle Cliff’s oddly-coloured pebbles. She eyed a small bone and her heart skipped a beat. She knew from the stories that it was the finger bone of the tribe’s first Caretaker, who walked with the Creator and learned the secrets of the hunt.
Scared, Dancing Cat looked around her. Still alone. Deciding she would never get another chance, she prayed aloud. “Ancestors, help me find my path. Reveal a glimpse of my future so that I can decide if you want me to continue living in this world. My tribe has cursed me. I seek to know if you have
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