Moon Called Read Free Page B

of the now-chill night wind. Both arms and legs felt leaden, as if she had used them for some task which had pushed her to the very edge of endurance. She raised one arm slowly to draw the back of her hand across her face, pushing away the hair plastered to forehead and cheeks.
    Thora felt as one fresh awakened out of a deep sleep—a sleep in which now-forgotten dreams had moved. She saw Malkin dully. The furred one was seated on the cloak—it spread wide with that many-patterned inner surfaceup. Between her claws the other held a length of reed such as could be culled from any stream side. As Thora stared Malkin dropped that from her wide mouth where her tongue no longer caressed it. So quiet was it now—in spite of the wind—that Thora heard a crunch as the pointed teeth crushed the reed. Malkin spit the bits into a narrow palm which closed about them tightly.
    The red eyes flamed so Thora would not have believed those of any living creature might do. She was certain that actual radiance fanned out from each. Then the lids half closed, and Malkin's shoulders hunched, as if the wind were becoming too strong for her bone-thin body.
    Thora's very bones ached. She had felt this way before when she had tramped all day on some hard road trail. Pain gathered about her hip joints as she took one stiff step and then another towards Malkin, her arms swinging, dead weights, by her sides. Though never had she been so exhausted as this, still she felt no touch of evil such as she had been warned against.
    Thus step by weary step she came to the furred one, standing before Malkin where she sat cross-legged on the cloak with the authority of an Old One. Malkin's own hand came out, gripped the swinging moon jewel. The gem within it was aglow, alive, with light. Malkin did not try to take it from the girl, onlycupped it in her own hands. Though, Thora realized at that moment, the virtue had so been drawn out of her that she could not have defended her precious thing even if Malkin had reft it from her.
    Instead she stood quietly while the furred one held the pendant so. Then Thora knew—into that gem of the Mother's bestowing she had danced all the power which her own spirit and energy could draw. Now from it Malkin, in turn, was draining that into her own furred self—another form of feeding—or rebuilding.
    Nor could Thora deny the other that nourishment. She had never known of such a ceremony as this. But she was only partially an initiate. What was done among the Tall Stones at certain times only those with the full knowledge could say. Malkin had used her to produce this strength, as if by right.
    The furred one released the pendant which no longer glowed. Thora wilted to her knees. Putting out a hand to steady herself, her palm pressed upon the cloak. She uttered a sharp cry. It had not been cloth she had touched then—rather a source of warmth—as if she had rested her hand against some living entity.
    On her knees, her head was nearly at a level with Malkin's. Now the other put forth both thin hands, the claw tips of her fingers just touching, sliding across the girl's forehead, down her cheeks, to flutter across her lips. It was a gesture of caress, a kind of greeting—athanks—
    Malkin moved a little aside, drew Thora forward so that she, too, sat on the cloak. The warmth of it arose above her. Nor did she really know when she crumpled down, to lie in a curl, while the furred one sat beside her, slowly, gently, brushing the hair back from the girl's forehead, the long tongue flickering in and out between her jaws, her red eyes half-lidded. So Thora slept.
    She awoke suddenly in the light of predawn. The cloak was now wrapped around her and for a moment or two she was dazed, for there was a maze of fast fleeting dreams behind her—strange dreams of singing, and another who had leaped high over a fire, bright steel in hand, spinning, smiting at the air, as if he battled fiercely the unseen. Now as the girl lay blinking