|
 Dayana Knight
 | | Dayana Knight, writer |
Cold, wet nudges awakened her. Disoriented, Mistreäl Adams awoke. Eyes widening at the grey animal that stood above her, peering with its head tilted in curiosity. Its long pink tongue dangled from a doggy-like grin. Amber eyes alert but neutral.
Where am I? What the hell…
Misty lay on her back gazing past the wolf into a lacey canopy of pines. Beyond an expanse of darkness crowned, with a silvery full moon, stars sprinkled the heavens like diamonds twinkling on black velvet. The stillness, while unnerving, comforted her. She chanced another glance at the wolf. It sat back on haunches and continued to peer at her though no malice tinged its attention. It remained patient and observant. Misty relaxed only slightly knowing that to display fear would only provoke the wolf.
I need to get up. Figure out why I’m here. She continued to study the wolf. Would it attack when she moved? No choice. Need to do something. I can’t lay on the ground all night.
Slow and easy, she moved to a sit, eyes locked with the amber ones that continued to watch. She eyed the wolf. It made no move to interfere with her. As a matter of fact, it had lain down and rested its snout upon its front paws as it continued to observe her.
“Why do you study me so?” She asked softly. “Are you here to protect me? Otherwise, you had every advantage to tear me limb for limb while I lay unconscious, my furry friend.”
The wolf tilted its head at her words, but remained impassive, so Misty continued to move into a full stand. She grabbed for a tree trunk to steady herself. Dizziness threatened to topple her back to the ground and a black void coated her sight for several seconds. “Hmm… what the heck is wrong with me?”
She reached her free hand to her head and palpated her scalp for any damage. No lumps, bumps or blood. Vision clear, she examined her extremities. Nothing wrong there, either. Her muscles felt sore but other than that, all was well. A quick glance toward the wolf confirmed it hadn’t moved.
“I’m fine now,” she said to the animal. She waved her hand gently in an attempt to shoo the animal away. “I can manage now, my furry guardian. Go back to your pack.”
The wolf stood and lowered its head, ears down and moved forward. Misty stood still, a surge of fear shot through her. She backpedaled only to feel the solid, roughened bark of a pine tree. “Crap.”
Sensing her fear, the wolf stopped and dropped to its belly. In a slow crawl, the wolf continued forward.
Relief spiraled through her system. “Oh! You are submitting. You mean no harm.” Misty squatted down and put her hand out to the creature. Its cool wet nose sniffed her fingers then the wolf licked her hand. Its eyes turned up to meet hers and a sense of kinship seemed to pass between. “Thank you for watching over me. Now if I only knew why I am here and where here is?” Misty chuckled and patted the animal on its head.
The wolf turned and moved away. It stopped, looked once more over its shoulder, and then disappeared into the forest. Misty glanced around. The brightness of the full moon lit the landscape sufficiently for her to see the stone circle in which she stood. Suddenly she remembered what had happened.
She gazed down at the simple gown she wore and instinctively brushed the bits of pine needles and dirt from its skirt. “I made it!” She spun raising her hands to the sky. “I’m home!”
Seven years ago, she’d fallen into the future on Samhain, while she and her Pagan sisters celebrated the harvest. They danced and lit bonfires for the celebration. As the others passed between the fires to cleanse themselves of the year of strife and evil, she somehow had slipped through time. How, she had no idea. The only thing she knew, it had been on Hallow’s Eve with a rare and coveted Blue Moon. Somehow, she believed the magic propelled her to the future. She’d planned for seven long years to return. Finally, October 31st once again fell on the second full moon of the month.
The question remained, had she returned unscathed? Had time stood still? Or is it seven years to the future here as well?
A cloud blanketed the moon leaving her in darkness. A chill caressed her skin and the hairs at the back of her neck stood on end. Someone stood to her right. Her senses never lied. Besides she’d heard the soft rustle of pine needles when the darkness fell upon the circle. She tensed, but stood her ground.
“Who goes there?” Her voice carried a confidence she did not feel.
Silence, thick and unnerving followed.
“I know you are there. I sense you. I am a witch, please do not cause yourself harm.”
“You will not hurt me, witch.” The male timbre caressed her skin like silk and caused a shiver to tremble down her spine.
“And why would I not harm you?” Misty turned to face the intruder. Like a spotlight, the silvery light of the full moon cast the tall shadow in its radiance against the ebony forest background. Her eyes widened, but she remained quiet. He stood over six foot tall, lean and well muscled. His light muslin shirt stretched taut against his strong chest and the breeches hugged well-formed thighs. Wavy dark hair touched his shoulders and a smile edged his stern, chiseled features. He leaned against a pine with his arms crossed across his chest.
“Because it is I who have protected you while you recovered from your fall from another time.” He pushed off the tree and stepped toward her.
“Impossible! You are not a wolf.”
“If you are a witch, why can I not be wolf?” He stood in front of her now. In her space. “Do I require you to prove you are a witch?”
Misty could only shake her head, no. She knew this man. She loved him in the future, and he had followed her to the past. “Damian…”
“Yes, Mistreäl. I am who called you to the future and love has brought me with you to the past. Happy Blessed Samhain, my love. Now we shall never part.”
Read more: http://www.halloween-online.com/ For more about Dayana Knight, please visit: www.dayanaknight.blogspot.com and www.romawolftales.com *Yareah magazine es una revista cultural fundada y dirigida por el escritor Martín Cid.
**Created and edited by the writer Martin Cid:
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El próximo número de Yareah Magazine hablará de humo, fumadores y tabaco.