Moon Country

prologue: the promise

Marielle screwed up. She'd really done it now. But the ancestors just had to get into her business on this day, and bring her to this woman's house. To her baby shower. And she'd listened.

It was bad enough that her own born-again, white-passing, Fae blood cousins had been invited to a Hound of God event, of all things. But the only reason her target hadn't torn her to shreds was because of the baby in her belly. Now, Mari was out in the backyard trying not to let her voice be heard by lupine ears.

She whispered, "Yana, lyubov, talk to me, please."

The woman in question turned abruptly, golden strands flying as ocean eyes crashed against an earthen shore.

"My name is Janine. Mrs. Anthony Gordon. Mrs. Anthony. Gordon." she spoke it like a mantra, as though she had to repeat it often.

"I'm not some scrawny, pathetic orphan girl anymore."

She glared banefully at Marielle, who was relieved she'd remembered to cast her protection spells that morning.

"I came here to warn you, that's all."

"You told me my daughter would be killed by a prick of flax. What does that mean to me?" Janine's tired eyes rolled.

Mari knew they would rather ignore her presence than acknowledge it, but as soon as she spoke up, the room erupted, and she quickly lost control of the room. And her temper.

"I said your child was in danger, not that they would die."

"You leave my daughter out of this," the she-wolf spat. "Never speak of her. I thought you people were god fearing, but here you are. Witch."

Marielle's lip curled.

As she looked Janine up and down, she realised something. The she-wolf looked half dead.

Not physically. Not yet. But her spirit was suffering.

Marielle remembered a young, barefoot girl talking animatedly in the classroom about her hatred of concrete and rubber sole shoes. About how life in the Pound made her ancestors sad. About how happy they were when she found a new family.

Mari didn't have the heart to tell her that family's secrets and loyalties. But she found out soon enough, after Yana started looping her arm through Mari's. From their skin color, to their personality and hair strands, they were opposites and complimentary in every way.

Little Yana was bright and very sweet. One memory of a teenage Yana was of her crying as Lisa Benson, her adoptive mother, yelled at her for bringing a stranger to the home. As if Mari's mother and Mrs. Benson didn't share wealth, multiple classrooms and a grandfather, pasty as he was.

Janine's eyes darted. Her mother-in-law had permitted her to speak with the witch, only so she could spin this out in Anthony's favor.

She would choose the jealousy angle, a witch's spell turning her son's wife to the devil. Yet Janine knew she would be admonished and shamed for her sins til kingdom come after this debacle.

"How dare you come here. People are talking already."

"Kohannya, please listen-" Janine reared up like Medusa at the endearment. It was too far, but Marielle couldn't care less.

A visceral darkness passed through her. A part of her soul wanted to tear the child apart, as was natural to beings like them, but she calmed herself.

"I always promised I would love your children as my own, and I will. If I had a vengeful heart I would manifest their death. On the strength of you, they will not be killed."

"How touching," Janine spat, already crying for the pain she would soon face.

"But my words will come true."

Much as it pained her, Mari had messed up. In trying to warn her old friend - with whom she had shared warm, pressing kisses and laughter, and touches, which the pair had once thought completely natural- she had explicitly stated things that should've been kept to heart.

"'If you don't act," she'd said, which meant 'If you don't leave,' "your child will die by a prick of flax.'"

Mari didn't know what that meant. But she should've said 'may be harmed' instead of 'will die'.

Silly, stupid, jealous...

But maybe she was wrong... Where would someone find cursed flax, anyway? It made no sense. But as she walked away from the house like a kicked dog, the curse sounded in her mind like a bell.

~~~

Next up, we introduce 'Sleeping Beauty'.

~~~

Lyubov - Ukrainian for 'love', which is a neutral word.

Kohannya - essentially an endearment used between lovers (apparently for hets only, and I wouldn't know different, so I just respected that).

*I'm not Black or American so idk, I tried my best to be respectful in Mari's depiction. Feel free to tell me if I'm wrong. I'll listen.