Hunter's Moon (The Witch Who Sang with Wolves Book 1)

by Kat Bostick

  “Message received, Red. I won’t ditch you in the woods.” Mari groaned. When he still didn’t move she added a quick “I promise.”

  He relented, backpedaling so she had enough room to stand but not enough to run from him. Not that she was planning to do that. The closer Mari got to their destination this evening, the heavier the stone of dread in her stomach grew. Because even if Jasper wasn’t her familiar, he was her something.

  “I didn’t want to leave you out here.” She admitted in a small voice. “I just wanted you to be free.”

  One side of Jasper’s mouth lifted in a silent snarl. Apparently he wasn’t nearly as keen on freedom as she thought he might be. At least not this kind of freedom. Not booted into some random forest and abandoned. How could she possibly have considered this a good idea?

  “I’m so stupid.” She moaned, rubbing a palm over her face and plopping right back onto the ground where Jasper pushed her. “I thought I was doing the right thing.”

  He circled behind her and nudged her hip. She twisted to pet his head but Jasper dodged her touch and nudged her again, harder. The third time he moved in and nipped her right on the butt.

  “Hey!” She swung at him, narrowly missing his ear as he sidestepped and chomped down on her thigh.

  On the fifth nip, Mari got the message: stop feeling sorry for yourself and play with me. On the bright side, water seemed to travel under the bridge pretty quickly with wolves. Smiling, she jumped up from the ground and sprinted for the trees. That would be the best place to practice anyway.

  Jasper gave chase with a happy bark, snapping at her ankles, thighs, and anywhere else he could reach. The moon continued climbing the horizon to join the shimmering stars that lit up the cloudless summer night. The growing glow penetrated the canopy of the forest, illuminating a narrow trail for Mari to follow. It snaked between oak trees and over soft detritus from the remains of old logs.

  Jasper was right on her heel, darting from side to side and herding her. This was a game, an invitation to play and embrace the magic of the full moon. She accepted his invitation with a girlish shriek. The two of them barreled through the undergrowth, guided by Mother Moon. Her tendrils of light wrapped around them, tugging them further into the heart of the forest.

  The cool silence of the night air was punctuated with laughter and wild yips. They were the sounds of play but they were also prayers. This was a place of worship. There was power in unadulterated joy.

  Mari’s feet slammed into the soft soil and she felt that power. The forest floor rose to meet her, the trees stretched their arms out to caress her, and stands of flowering nettle danced in her wake. The vegetation whispered glee as the witch and the wolf bounded over green leaves and thorny vines.

  At some point Jasper ceased chasing and instead ran at her side. The call of the moon gripped both of their hearts and the magic of the forest filled both of their lungs, intoxicating them. For most of her life, the closest Mari had been to a real forest was the meager stand of trees she found Jasper in. Dad had taken her and Samuel to the North Shore to camp beside Lake Superior once but she was a child then and only peripherally aware of the magic in the depths of old growth and old life.

  Now, in place of that wide eyed little girl stood a woman, a true witch. And she knew this magic like she knew the sound of her own pulse. She told Jasper that she wasn’t a powerful witch. She was wrong. With every step she felt some invisible restraints that shackled her body, her power, her mind, fall away. The magic of Earth Mother and Mother Moon combined to create a palpable force. Mari could see it, wispy, green, luminescent, just below the soil.

  It emerged from the ground like steam rising from dewy grass in the sunlight. Fine puffs of green magic, pure energy, floated up through the tangled roots of trees and wrapped around her. She could taste it on the tip of her tongue. Sometimes it was coppery, like old blood, and sometimes it was as tart and sweet as sun kissed mulberries. She drank it in, accepted it, and accepted herself. Finally she was wholly unfettered.

  I am the witch.

  A distant voice, as silvery as the moon, responded to her proclamation. “I am the wolf.”

  Mari suddenly had the feeling that she’d been here before, that she’d done this lifetimes ago. She knew what she was supposed to do. Voices whispered instruction and knowledge as old as the oldest witch in her bloodline. They were the voices of ancestors, foremothers showing her what she was always meant to see.

  Mari could feel their delight at finally reaching her with their words. They wanted her to be strong, to be powerful, to be precisely what she was born to be. Distantly, she felt the ghost of a caress on her cheek and knew it was her mother, silently announcing her presence.

  Still giggling and grinning from ear to ear, she and Jasper veered off the deer trail and into an opening in the trees. There, the luster of a moon beam waited for them. The witch stepped into it, zealous and ready. This was her birthright. This was her purpose. To avoid it or deny it was pointless. No one could take this from her. No one could keep her from this.

  Mari kicked off her tennis shoes and peeled off her socks. Modesty gone, she tossed her shirt away next. Her bra, shorts, and underwear followed. There she was, naked, bared to the world, open to receiving all of the energy offered to her by the moon. The red wolf circled her, emerald eyes blooming with preternatural awareness. Moon hunger shimmered in his gaze as he took in the sight of her.

  I know you. I see you.

  And he knew that she did. He’d always known that she would.

  Uncovered, she stepped fully into the moon beam. The pale light was cool and rejuvenating to her flesh. As the light kissed her bare skin, she heard Moon Mother sing into one ear. In the other, she heard the voice of her mother. Her mothers. Foremothers and sisters, all of those that came before her. They taught her the song of the moon in ghostly notes. They gave her the ritual words to speak to the divine.

  Consummate with the earth. Claim your birthright. Witch.

  The full moon and the lush forest were the catalyst of her awakening. The knowledge of her people left an indelible mark on her soul and only now could she see it. Even if Mari the woman had no understanding of the rite she was urged to perform, Mari the witch did. Her father meant to leave her bereft of power. Her own family sought to deny her this.

  As if it was safer to delve only in the mundane world. As if she was not built to call warriors to her side. As if she was not born to run with wolves. It was time for the line of demarcation between woman and witch to be erased.

  “I am the witch.” Mari declared to the world. Hands stretched above her, she cried out her request. “Guide me, mothers, sisters, ancestors. Grant me your strength, your will, and your blessing.” She turned her gaze skyward. “Huntress, Mother Moon, I take you into me. I carry your song in my lungs.”

  Mari crouched to scoop up a handful of fertile soil. She rubbed the mud across her chest, starting with her heart and working away from it. “Earth Mother, I take you into me. I carry your song in my bones. Under watch of the stars and the Father Above, I claim my power. I claim my birthright. I am the witch! One with Earth Mother, Mother Moon, and all that is divine. Let me walk in peace in your forests, tend to your gardens, and give threefold what I take. Power for power. My heart and soul for the heart and soul of Mothers Divine.”

  Finally, Mari locked on Jasper. His eyes glowed with anticipation. “Wolf brother, faithful companion, protector, lover, shapeshifter, child of Mother Moon, I take you into me. I carry your song in my heart.”

  She tilted her head back to let out a long, keening note. Another followed and another as she sang the haunting song of the moon. A circle of incorporeal figures took shape around her, hands linked in worship. Their voices joined her song, granting her the aid of their power.

  Suddenly the wispy fog of magic exploded around Jasper. An aura of green and gold wrapped his body in color. He sucked the magic into his lungs with each breath until he panted clouds of it.


  And then Mari truly saw him. Not only wolf but more, so much more.

  In place of the wolf stood a man as naked as she. His hair was a rich curtain of red, flowing around him in an unseen breeze. He was so fierce that she was certain he was a warrior. And he was so beautiful to look upon that tears sprang up in her eyes. The moonlight reflecting on his pale skin gave it a delicate glow, adding to the otherworldly atmosphere around him. His scent was of summer rain, new growth, and, faintly, of the ocean. He smelled of home.

  The ferocity of his soul promised death. Yet, he also promised the warmth and shelter of family.

  Now she understood. He was real. Mari went to him and lifted a cautious hand, afraid he’d disappear into mist under the brush of her fingertips.

  The red warrior’s chest rose and fell rapidly. When she splayed her palm over his heart he exhaled like that touch alone brought him the most carnal form of ecstasy. His skin burned like fire beneath hers. Mari wanted to press into it, to soak up that heat and carry it inside of her. She wanted him to sink into her, melding two bodies into one flesh.

  Jasper—yes, this was him—lifted his hands to cup her face and she heard herself breathe out a pleasured sigh. Those hands were meant to touch her. She wanted to feel their caress on every inch of skin.

  He didn’t speak or weep like he did in her dreams, only gazed down at her in speechless wonder. Mari didn’t speak either. Her heart had swelled too big for her voice to work. The tears that clouded her eyes were wetting her face but they were such happy tears.

  There wasn’t enough time to find words for him. With a voice higher and more piercing than she knew her own to be, the song of moon and earth, of motherhood and magic, came from her throat unbidden. Mari recognized the sharp song as the Kulning that Gran mentioned during their last visit. This was one of Ina’s songs. The shrill notes washed her in euphoric bliss.

  She repeated it, feeling the pulse of magic that journeyed from the soles of her feet to the tips of her fingers. On instinct, her arms raised to the sky to let the magic flow completely through her and upward to the moon. As soon as she removed her hand from Jasper, he disappeared and before her stood a wolf once more.

  For a breath Mari saw a flash of someone familiar in his face again, someone who was man, not wolf. But before she could question why the man was gone, Jasper threw his head back to howl and she was lost in the pure ecstasy of their voices twining together.

  Their songs were twin storms, the crescendo crashing through the trees with the force of a hurricane. The mournful, gratifying quaver of his wolfish cry joined the penetrating tone of her ancestral incantation in perfect harmony. This was the role she was born to take. Mari understood it all now.

  Call the wolves. Sing with the wolves. The witch speaks and the wolf listens.

  As swiftly as they arrived, her foremothers were gone. Mari ended her song with a blissful hum. Jasper’s howl faded softly. She quivered in that single moon beam, head bubbly and champagne drunk, awestruck, mystified, totally filled to the brim with pleasure and magic. Tapped into the power of goddesses, she was unstoppable. Mari was the daughter of unimaginable power and it was her duty to harness it.

  Each nerve in her body was electrified. Deep in her marrow Mari could feel the ones that came before her. Every witch whose power blessed her DNA. She couldn’t see them but they were there within her, always.

  Until tonight, she had been too frightened to see what was right in front of her. Woman was softness and sacredness and if she was too brazen, she became the food of the world. Or so her father claimed. Mari was woman and witch, though. A witch was not devoured to feed the fleshly appetites of men.

  A witch was the keeper of the world. She commanded power like none other and possessed strength beyond the physical realm. She held the heart of the earth in the palm of her hands. And this witch, Mariella Sowka, sang with wolves, just as Ina who came before her.

  Jasper watched her raptly, her euphoria mirrored on his face. He was no familiar or feral animal. He was wolf and he was man.

  Spent from the force of the magic that coursed through her, Mari dropped to her knees. A cool trail of sweat painted the space between her shoulder blades and glued her long hair to her skin. Panting and bleary eyed, Jasper collapsed beside her. Clutching fistfuls of dead leaves, Mari inhaled for what felt like the first time in twenty one years.

  She flattened herself on the ground. In one blink, her consciousness faded and she was lost in a black, dreamless state.

  Chapter 13

  Mari

  Mari’s mouth tasted of dirt. Her tongue was dry, her throat ached, and she was cold but for the humid heat that warmed her face. No part of her was willing to move except her eyelids. They lifted in dizzying flutters. Panic flooded her chest when she pried her lids back and realized she still couldn’t see anything. The world around her was empty of color and light except for a faint brush of dark red. Mari blinked rapidly and heard her own breath coming in gasps. She was hyperventilating, unable to control her lungs enough to take in long breaths.

  Somewhere near her she smelled animal musk. And, oddly enough, rain, though the soil beneath her was dry. It was like stepping into a garden just after a summer storm, that aromatic sweetness of young plants heightened by the water. The comforting scent soothed her panicked breathing. Mari squeezed her eyes shut again and demanded that the next time she opened them, they focus and let her see.

  It worked. Sort of. Mari flicked her eyes up and vaguely made out Jasper’s face, so close his breath warmed her cheeks. Now that she swallowed her panic and had a moment to process, Mari recognized that her eyes weren’t failing her. The darkness she saw was actual darkness. They were in the forest, surrounded by thick foliage. The only hint of light came from the full moon and the sparkle of stars. There were no clouds in the sky but the moon had moved so that it was almost blocked by some of the tallest pines.

  That didn’t seem right. Somewhere in the back of her fuzzy head, Mari remembered watching the moon crest the horizon. It had made quite a journey since then and she couldn’t recall any of the time between then and now. A fresh bout of panic had her lungs seizing again. Why couldn’t she remember?

  No, no, no.

  She was naked. Father Above, Mari was absolutely buck naked and confused like she’d had six shots of tequila back to back.

  Jasper whimpered anxiously and dropped to his belly beside her. Mari’s arms grabbed for him on their own volition, wrapping around whatever part she could reach and constricting like a snake. Her hands found fistfuls of fur and she brought it to her face to hide the outpouring of tears.

  “What happened? Where are we?” She asked him, totally in vain.

  The wolf dipped his head to nuzzle her neck, a low crooning noise vibrating in his throat. It was like he was murmuring comforting words to her, reassuring her that she was safe. And she was. Of course she was. No matter what happened out here, no one hurt her. Not with Jasper at her side. Even when someone tried to, Jasper was there. Jacob was dead. Kevin was dead. And anyone else who tried to do what they did to her would be dead too. Of that much she was certain.

  Perhaps it shouldn’t relieve her anxiety to count off the deaths of two young men. Mari shouldn’t be pleased they were dead. Many would argue that their crime was not punishable by death, that they could have been redeemed. She disagreed. And so did her wolf.

  Wolf. She thought, catching some glimmer of memory. Witch.

  In her heart, she heard the echo of a song. A new one that wasn’t hers until tonight. It belonged to the moon. Once she relaxed enough to focus, she could feel magic coursing through her like it never had before. Her whole body had been asleep and now it tingled as the blood—and the magic—made it’s way to all of the places it belonged.

  Another memory snagged on her sharpening mind. For some reason, she was throwing off her clothes like she was alone in her bathroom. She was removing them. And there were voices whispering to her. Great, that didn’t make her feel any
less crazy. Yet, they were voices she knew.

  “Okay, naked and hearing voices. That must be a witch thing, right? No big deal. Everyone knows witches strip off their clothes and dance naked in the forest.” She muttered a lame reassurance to herself.

  All the modesty that she apparently shed with her clothes returned so rapidly she was almost dizzy. Covering her breasts to hide them—from who? Jasper maybe, though he seemed as dazed as her—Mari pushed off the ground and pivoted to search for her discarded undergarments. Neon blue underwear was the first item she found. She whispered a silent thanks to her best friend for forcing her to buy colorful underwear and ditch the granny panties on their last shopping trip together.

  Once her most private parts were covered, Mari felt safer. Panties and a bra were her armor, protecting her from the army of leering eyes she was sure were peeking around every tree. Jasper picked himself up and began slowly circling the clearing, responding to her agitation. There were a few sidelong glances her way but otherwise he kept his attention on the trees, nose up, eyes searching for the nonexistent enemy that had her scrambling to find her clothes.

  In her haste to get dressed, Mari’s heel snagged the waist of her jean shorts and knocked her onto her butt for the five hundredth time that night. If she didn’t have a bruised tailbone tomorrow, she would be surprised. Alarmed at her sudden squeal, Jasper trotted over and stood above her, checking her out with a series of thorough sniffs.

  With his closeness and that odd rainy smell on him, she recalled something else that didn’t make a lick of sense; looking into those glowing eyes on the face of a man, not a wolf.

  Maybe she hit her head while they were running in the dark and had some weird concussion dream? That couldn’t explain the getting naked and—this part was new— rubbing dirt all over her boobs. And what about the man who stood in the moonlight with her? If he had been a stranger, she might have been less confused. But he wasn’t. Tonight she saw, in the flesh, the man from her dreams. That beautiful man with silky red hair and green eyes so gorgeous and captivating they sucked the air from her lungs.