Getting back on dry land, Clara saw her golden retriever aunt sitting at the top of the bank watching, and patiently waiting, for her.
Clara transformed from her swan form into her dog form and jumped up the bank to her aunt. Selina nuzzled her affectionately and then they both made their way into the woods. It was almost fully dark at this point, so they made their way to the oak tree in a roundabout way, sniffing here and there and investigating the woodland noises. At the oak tree, they both flopped down and went to sleep.
***
The next morning, Clara was ready for the hearty breakfast Selina served up, after which she thought she might get some time to read the diaries up in her room. Unfortunately, her aunt had other ideas. She wanted to keep a close eye on her niece so decided that, what with the flower show and everything, they were behind in some of their chores and Clara subsequently spent most of the day washing clothes and cleaning the cottage, while Selina did some weeding and tending to her vegetables in the garden.
After all that physical work, Clara was ready for an afternoon nap when her aunt suggested it and was quite refreshed in time to go out that evening.
In the twilight garden of the cottage, Selina told Clara that she wanted her to practice turning into a swan again. This time she needed to transform without going to the river, as she wouldn’t have live inspiration when she was at home. Clara thought this was a good idea, until she struggled to transition into her swan form. Her aunt was adamant, though, that if she couldn’t do it now, she wouldn’t want her niece trying it alone at home.
“Relax, Clara,” she said in exasperation. “You’re getting yourself too wound up.”
Clara moved her head from side to side to release some of the tension that had built up and practised breathing deeply. When she felt relaxed, she closed her eyes and concentrated on the swan again. She delved into her memories of what it’d been like to feel the cool water on her legs and feet, to feel the wind beneath her wings and to look down on the trees from above.
Still breathing deeply, she opened her eyes, and was delighted to find her body shrunk and enshrined in white feathers. She stretched out her wings and ran around the garden squawking, much to Selina’s amusement.
Then, she ran in a straight line and took off, flying over the garden wall and up into the air. Again, Clara took great joy in the flight, going much further than she had the previous evening with hardly any effort and observing the passing land below. Everything up here is so serene, she thought happily, the only sound being the wind rushing by.
Suddenly, Clara heard a loud popping noise, her left wing wrenched upwards and then she felt an unbearable pain.
“FWAH,” she shouted in terror, desperately flapping her wings to try and prevent falling out of the sky like a rock. Her right wing was still working normally but her left wing was paralysed, hanging limply from her side. Clara dropped to the earth. She grazed the top of a tree at speed and crashed down through to the undergrowth, where her whole world faded to black.
Chapter Nineteen
Clara’s return to consciousness was slow. When she opened her eyes, she was confused by the world that came into focus. She didn’t recognise where she was and didn’t know how she’d arrived there. Becoming frightened, she tried to get to her feet and was stopped by a stabbing pain in her left arm. Spots flashed in front of her eyes and she thought she was going to be sick. She tried to grab her left arm with her right hand but couldn’t. She was still in her swan form. Flashes of memory started to come back to her. The frustration she’d felt when trying to transform earlier that evening, the joy she when she was flying, and then the pain. The unbearable pain.
Clara remembered crashing through the trees. She lowered her head and examined her body and legs for injuries. She didn’t appear to be bleeding from anywhere other than her left wing. Clara closed her eyes as a momentary wave of dizziness assaulted her. Best not to think about that wound for now, she thought. Clara breathed deeply and the dizziness passed. She felt aches and pains emanating from various parts of her body, but she didn’t think anything was broken. Clara opened up her right wing and peered at it. It moved stiffly, and a little painfully, and she noticed that she’d lost a few of her feathers, but again, it didn’t feel broken.
With a mighty effort, Clara pushed herself to her feet. Her left wing trailed on the ground uselessly. Clara swayed for a moment or two as the dizziness returned, but she steadied herself by leaning against a tree trunk.
Dazed, Clara tried to get her brain to work. She didn’t recognise the area she was in, so she didn’t know how far away she was from the cottage. Selina had not followed her this evening so wouldn’t know where she was or what had happened. Clara wasn’t even sure herself what had happened.
She replayed the events in her mind, as best she could remember, Have I been shot? Who would do such a thing? As a swan, she wasn’t a threat to anyone. And then a thought occurred, which sent Clara into a fit of terror. What if the shooter came after her, to collect her, or worse, to finish the job they’d started? Clara shuddered violently, sending spasms of pain along her wing and raising goose bumps all over her body.
At every rustle of leaves and crack of twigs, Clara jumped violently, anticipating each breath to be her last. She wasn’t conscious of anything other than her own mortality, her breath moving in and out of her lungs, her heart pumping blood along her veins. Her muscles and sinews, lean and taut, ready to explode into action. Had she been a human Clara would’ve sobbed. Instead she stood, in shock, unable to think of what to do.
Then a form came into Clara’s mind. It was a vision of her Great Aunt Clara in the form of a dog. It was the picture she’d created of her ancestor when she read about one of her adventures in the diary. Great Aunt Clara was bounding and leaping in happiness, enjoying her dog form. As Clara focused on the vision, she started to feel calmer. She started to feel stronger. It was as if her great-great-great-great-aunt was giving her encouragement. As if she was telling Clara that she was special, and gifted, and that she’d get through this trauma. As her frozen brain started to thaw, Clara silently thanked her ancestor and began to consider her options.
Clara could feel drops of blood running down her wing and dropping to the ground. She was starting to feel cold all over, if she didn’t move, she was in danger of bleeding out on the spot. Her sense of self-preservation kicked in and she started to think about how she could get herself back to the cottage and safety.
Clara thought about transforming back to her human form but discounted the idea. She didn’t know what would happen with her wound if she did and also, she didn’t want to be blundering around the woodland, lost and naked.
No, she needed to transform into an animal that could find its way back to the cottage. She needed to transform into an animal that could cover the ground quickly and wouldn’t be hindered too much by the injury. Her sheepdog form came to mind. She thought that, with its sense of smell and night vision, along with a dog’s stoicism, it’d be just the thing.
But Clara was nervous about transforming in her current state. Realising that her only other choice was to stay put and hope that someone friendly found her before she bled to death, Clara closed her eyes, tried to ignore the pain, and concentrated on transforming into her dog form.
She knew the transformation had worked as a stab of pain radiated along her arm and up her shoulder when her weight shifted from two legs to four. Clara yelped and raised her front paw off the ground to relieve the pain. As the haze of pain receded, Clara started to feel the comfort and familiarity of her dog self.
Sitting and closing her eyes, Clara raised her sensitive dog nose and sniffed. A million different scents assailed her, and she sifted through them, trying to find a familiar one. Failing to do so, she turned her head slightly, in one direction and then another, finding new scents to identify and sift through.
There ... there was something. Clara’s eyes opened wide and she turned slowly. Focusing all of her recep
tors in that direction, she sniffed again. Yes, there was definitely something familiar. Clara identified the smell as being the exotic flowers in Selina’s garden that released their perfume at night. She’d not paid them much attention on their regular night-time forays, but she’d recognise that smell anywhere. It smelled of home and safety.
She rose onto her three good legs and started to limp towards the familiar smell. She started to slowly make her way home.
As the night wore on and the journey continued, she became tired and cold. She shivered from head to toe. She wanted to stop and rest for a while, maybe have a little nap. But alarm bells rang in her head. No, that was a bad idea, if she went to sleep, she might never wake up, she had to keep moving.
More time passed. Clara did not have the energy to even raise her head. She just continued limping on, watching the ground move slowly beneath her, moving her front leg and then the back legs, front leg and then back. Her legs started to tremble and cramp with effort and then, another familiar smell. Aunt Selina. She could smell her aunt.
Clara tried to bark in relief, but it came out as a mere whimper. She tried again and managed a couple of yelps before her front leg gave way, and she collapsed to the ground. As her world began to dim, Clara became aware of a rustling in the bushes in front of her and a voice calling out her name. She wanted to respond but it was too hard. Her heavy eye lids closed, and she fell into blissful dark numbness.
***
Aunt Selina was pacing in the cottage garden. Where was Clara? Selina peered into the trees and then turned and looked up into the sky. She should’ve come back hours ago the irresponsible girl. She knew something like this would happen if she gave the child too much leeway. I should’ve gone with her, she thought anxiously, or at least followed to keep an eye on her.
Selina wrung her hands and paced while time ticked by. She was worried sick. She’d transformed into her dog form and searched the woods for Clara but had not seen hide nor hair of her. Now she was back in her human form, conscious of the approaching dawn, and terrified that something had gone horribly wrong.
Selina leant against the garden wall and opened her mind. She could sense animals nearby but not her niece’s familiar presence. Where are you? she cried out mentally, causing the birds in a nearby tree to squawk and take flight.
Then Selina thought she heard something. Was that a yelp? She hurried through the trees. What was that black thing in the bushes?
“Clara?” Selina called in desperation. “Clara” she said again, recognising the unconscious black dog before her. She bent over and scooped the dog up and ran back to the cottage as fast as she could.
Chapter Twenty
Heart thumping from exertion and fear, Selina placed the unconscious dog on the kitchen table and quickly ran her hands over it, examining it for injuries. She found the bloody front left leg and took a closer look. Having lived in the countryside all of her life, Selina recognised a pellet wound when she saw one. She felt a flash of white-hot rage at such a disgusting act and then took a deep, calming breath, gathering together some tweezers, medical alcohol and bandages.
With steady hands she tweezed out the pellet and then gently, but thoroughly, cleaned the wound. She put a temporary dressing on it and then tried to gently shake Clara awake.
***
Clara was floating in a dark place. But the place that had initially taken her away from the exhaustion and pain had turned threatening. There were forms in the dark, she couldn’t see them, but she could feel them, could sense that they were there. One of them grabbed her left arm and started squeezing it painfully. She pleaded with the unseen force to let go, to stop hurting her, but the thing only squeezed tighter and tighter and she could hear it laughing, wildly, hysterically. Clara tried to jerk away from the thing that had a hold of her and yelped in fear when she couldn’t move.
And then she jolted awake.
Heart thumping, Clara blinked at the bright light, but then yelped in relief. She was in the cottage, and her aunt was there, watching her with concern.
“Clara,” said Selina. “What a relief. You scared me half to death, child.” And she put her hand out and petted Clara on the head. Clara realised that she was still in her dog form.
“Now,” continued Selina. “I’ve done the painful bit with your wound, but I need you to transform to your human self, so that I can bandage it and you can take some painkillers.”
Clara’s front leg was on fire. She heard the words her aunt was saying but was struggling to make sense of them. Her brain could only focus on the pain in her leg. Clara looked at her aunt helplessly.
“You can do this Clara,” Selina entreated, placing both of her hands on the dog’s shoulders for support. “Close your eyes and concentrate. It’ll only take a moment.”
Clara closed her eyes. She squeezed them tightly shut and concentrated on picturing herself in her human form. But the Clara in her mind was hazy and unreal, as if she was being reflected back out of a rippling pond. Clara felt a wave of exhaustion flow over her. Maybe I’ll stay as I am for now, she thought wearily, I could get used to being a dog, no problem. And Clara put her heavy head down on the table and relaxed, starting to doze off.
“No, no, Clara,” shouted Selina, frantically shaking the dog to keep Clara awake. “Don’t give up. Think about your parents, and Peter.”
Clara heard her aunt as if from a distance. At the mention of her family, a vision popped into Clara’s half-conscious mind. It was of Peter and her parents at the car boot sale a few weeks earlier. Was that only a few weeks ago? thought Clara dreamily, it felt like a lifetime. Clara’s heart started to ache. She wanted to go home. She missed her family and craved to see them again. She desperately needed be her old self.
Clara felt a tingling sensation all over her body, as if all her fur was receding into her skin. She opened her eyes and pushed her human self into a sitting position, examining it to make sure everything was where it should be. Selina threw a blanket around her shoulders and, smiling at Clara and murmuring soothing things, quickly bandaged up her arm.
After Clara had swallowed some painkillers, Selina helped her down from the table and hauled her up the stairs to her bed, where Clara lay down and immediately fell into an exhausted sleep.
***
Clara slept through most of the following day. She woke for a short while in the mid-afternoon and Selina brought her some soup.
Clara told her aunt as much as she could remember of what had happened the night before and Selina listened.
“Those kids,” Selina said angrily. “They just don’t think. To them they were shooting at a dumb animal that doesn’t have feelings. I’ll bet I know exactly who they were, and their parents will be informed.” Selina shook her head and tutted at such irresponsibility. “You could’ve been killed,” she blurted, and then immediately regretted it when she saw Clara’s face drop. “But you were so brave, my dear,” her aunt continued soothingly. “I’ve never known such bravery, or such skill. I don’t know how you managed to transform and get back to the cottage. I don’t know if I would’ve been able to do it in your place.” And she smiled proudly at her niece. “As it is, your strength will return in a few days and your arm will heal completely in a couple of weeks.” Clara’s eyelids were starting to droop so Selina left her niece to get some more healing sleep.
***
Selina gently shook Clara awake later in the evening. It was the third night of the full moon and they needed to transform. She asked Clara how she was feeling.
Clara considered her answer. Her left arm was aching; she was still exhausted and could sleep for at least a month. Her limbs were stiff and sore from her crash landing and her aunt had woken her from a restless dream, where she’d been walking to a destination that couldn’t be reached. In the dream she knew she’d continue walking forever. On waking, she still felt like she wanted to move her legs, to keep walking.
Clara sighed.
“Tired,” she said wearil
y to her aunt. “And sore. Tired and sore.”
“I’m sorry to wake you dear,” replied Selina apologetically, she stroked Clara’s good arm. “You don’t have to get out of bed. You can transform into your dog form here and go right back to sleep. I’ll wake you before morning to transform back.”
Clara nodded in appreciation. Now that her aunt had mentioned it, she was aware of a creeping agitation building up from the centre of her being. Clara closed her eyes and pictured her dog form. After the trauma of the previous night, and her long journey back to the cottage, she had no trouble imagining her improved eyesight, sense of smell and the way she felt being in her dog form.
She felt the transformation happening, it felt completely natural, as if she’d always been able to do it. Her body shrank and curled into the form of a lying dog, her nose extended, and her senses sharpened. She didn’t need to open her eyes to know that the transformation had worked. She merely put her head down on her paws and fell back to sleep with a sigh.
By the light of the full moon, Aunt Selina gazed proudly at dog Clara’s sleeping form. She was in awe of the power her niece had displayed and a little frightened by it. I’ve nothing left to teach her, she thought. In fact, Clara had overtaken Selina in terms of her knowledge and the extent of her power. I wouldn’t be surprised, Selina thought, if she does succeed in breaking the curse someday.
Well, I might not be able to teach Clara any more about the gift, but I can be there to support her while it grows and develops, Selina thought with satisfaction. And with that, Selina transformed into her cat form, padded lightly to the bottom of Clara’s bed, curled up in a ball and went to sleep.
As the bright, silent moon sailed slowly across the night sky, the only sounds in the cottage were the contented purring of a sleeping cat and the occasional sigh of a dreaming dog.
Under the Light of a Full Moon Page 14
