Damn! Today is the day I've got to climb up Foghorn Fang and pay my homage to the Earth Mother. It’s All Hallows’ Eve, and it's part of learning to be a witch. I won't be one for a little over a year, when I turn ten, but grandma insists that I need to head up that damn mountain to the shrine. You know: same old shit... take the elements up the side of a mountain and perform the ritual for a bountiful harvest.

I just don't know why I have to do this by myself, this time. Always before, we have gone up together, Grandma showing me all the wonders of nature and how each living thing is part of the greater whole. Shit, just because I dream weird dreams and started moving stuff around when I was six, that doesn't mean that I want to be a witch. Quite the opposite. Who wants all that attention? And then there’s having to go to school twice in the same day.

Yep, that's my life... School with the Earther children in the morning, and home-schooled with Grandma during the evening. What a joy! Plus all the homework they can dream up. How lucky can a girl get?

Sharing our world with the Earthers is not what our ancestors dreamed of, when we left Earth more than 25,000 years ago. The Earth Mother sent a great boat across the void to gather up all of the Fae. Now, so much has changed. We are scattered all across this world, and many have disappeared completely. My people, the Sky People, have lost our wings and our ability to fly. Gone for tens of thousands of years. It was the price of peace with the Dark Fae, after a war that neither could win. My people gave up, in order to survive. Our magic has grown stronger and stronger…but at what price?

Yes, we witches are strong. But we are few, and those we govern grow more earth-like all the time. There are many who say that we are behind the times, that magic is unnecessary with all of the technology that the Earthers bring. I often wonder if this is why the Earth Mother came and got us: so we wouldn't fall prey to the Earthers and their ways. Grandmother says that the Fae are gone from Earth, all destroyed by the same humans that are here now.

Less than 25 years, and already they've nearly consumed us as they did those on our mother world. I love to talk with Grandma about the Earthers, but she always tells me, “They've never seen one of our long winters, when the great red sun blocks off the light from the small yellow. We'll see how well they do then.”

No matter, I must get up and start up the mountain. I throw back the thick quilt. The rock floor is cold beneath my feet, so I move quickly into the toilet-and-bathing room. I only take a few minutes to clean up, before dressing in thick, mid-calf woolen socks, one of my longer woolen skirts, leather boots, a linen shirt, and a woolen jerkin to round things off. Wool and wool products are the mainstay of our village, Erna. Sheep are everywhere.

I suddenly stop and remember my parents, both dead in an early spring avalanche up on the very mountain I've got to climb. How do you forget that, or forgive the mountain that changed everything. How to give thanks to the Earth Mother, when so much has been taken away.

I quickly push those painful thoughts out of my mind. I rush down the hallway and into the kitchen, leaving the pain behind me.

“‘Morning, Grandma!” I chirp happily.

Grandma, smiling, knows I'm not thrilled to be going up the mountain alone, “Good morning, Gabby (it’s short for Abigail). Did you sleep well child?” She is always interested in how well I slept, but it's my dreams that interest her the most. “Any dreams, last night?”

In a flash of clarity, I remember one small slice of the other side. “Yes. The first was a set of ultra-dark blue eyes. Not one of the people, but with tight, vertical slits like a cat.” I remember another fragment, this one darker: “The other, another set of eyes, black as pitch. Like the inside of a cave where there's no light! Then pain. Searing pain from my stomach and abdomen!”

My eyes refocus on the present, and I see Grandma’s wrinkled brow furrowed in a worried grimace. “Well, that's interesting dear!” she says, tentatively, before her face relaxes into a soft, easy-going smile.

“Let's get you fed and on your way. The suns are already high in the sky, and you have some miles to walk before you get to the shrine.” She turns to get my breakfast plate.

Wow, what a surprise! Egg-in-a-hole with goat cheese. Grandma's a damn good cook, but when she's baking bread, as she is this morning, it's a simple breakfast of eggs, bread, and cheese. I bet lunch will be just as creative: a goat cheese sandwich and a late-harvest apple. It's a good thing that I like goat cheese!

Grandma has already loaded my backpack. There are some things for tonight's ritual, and some simple offerings to the Moon Goddesses. All three moons will be full at one time, and it's up to me to thank the goddesses. Of course, there's also goat cheese, candles, pork tallow, onions, garlic, rosemary, sage, lavender, chalk, salt, flint and steel, the head of a chicken, a small piece of pure white linen, a set of four warding stones, and a woolen coverlet.

I finish my breakfast, and grab my heavy woolen cloak and drape it over the backpack. I quickly tie it off, and then I see Grandma waiting at the door. I've never before seen the look on her face. I think it's fear. Fear! Naw, no way. She’s not afraid of anything.

As I get close, she grabs me. Kissing first my cheeks and then my eyes, she whispers, “Remember our family’s old saying... ‘Not Today’! Stay focused until the third moon has set. Much will depend upon your strength, child.” Our hands touching for just a second, then she's gone.

She gives me a shove, and out the door I go. Well, that was confusing as hell. Fuck! “Not Today!” is an old battle cry about not dying today. I'm not sure what that part means, but staying focused until the setting of the third moon is pretty clear. I have to stay focused on the ritual to the Moon Goddesses. As for my strength, crap, I won't even be nine for two more months.

At least no one messes with me at school. I mean, being a scrawny little red head in sixth grade puts me at the top of a very short list. We sixth graders are at the bottom of everybody’s totem-pole, and they all like to torment us. Well, everyone except me. I guess that Grandma being the regional witch governing the use of magic helps a little.

I laugh quietly, shoulder my backpack, and head toward the village gate and the mountain beyond.

It's a wonderful day for this late in the fall. Our years are longer here: a little over 438 days. Life on a world with a binary sun system is quite a bit different, especially when it includes the interactions of three moons and ten other planets. What an astronomical mess! But that's not my thing. I'm going to be a witch, not an astronomer. Yuck! Just looking at the stars and planets all the time. What a boring life!

The gate warden, Mr. Bree, waves as I walk past him and head down the main road to the west. An easy half-mile walk later, I get to the trail leading up to the mountain. I let my mind relax as I begin the climb. I like to daydream, and today I want to think about sex. Yep, that wonderfully simple union between a boy and a girl. The kids at school talk about it all the time. Right now, it’s about how Bobby got into Ava's pants…or at least that's what Bobby wants everyone to believe. Ava is keeping quiet, helping him sell his tale of the ultimate conquest. But they are both a year ahead of me, and my Fae friends.

So how to daydream about sex? Well, I will need a handsome man. Naw. A boy would be better. Yes. One with ultra-dark blue eyes. I even leave the cat-like slits, instead of round pupils. As I walk along, I realize I have just the right boy in mind. He's from one of my earlier dreams: Dark, shoulder-length hair, the ultra-dark blue eyes with the slits, a tall, lean, muscular body. I’d like him at around 6'3” in height, with a chiseled jaw with just a trace of stubble, high cheekbones, and a wide, generous mouth with a brilliant white smile.

This isn't exactly a boy, but rather a young man, maybe fourteen or fifteen. The tingle between my legs is telling me that I've got him perfectly. I breathe deeply, looking about me as I begin the hard climb up the rocky ridge.

When I no longer have to concentrate on climbing, it only takes a second to return to my dream boy. I have us sitting on a moss-covered log, side-by-side, our shoulders touching, I look up and see him bending down towards me. His lips brush mine for just a second. Wango...bango… I feel a jolt of pseudo-energy flowing into my mind. But then, in a moment, I'm back into the reality of walking up the rocky trail.

Shit, that was mind-numbingly real. Or at least it felt that way. Back inside my daydream, I feel his lips on mine for a deeper, longer, more passionate kiss. His arms are wrapped around me. I'm sitting in his lap. As our kiss deepens, he cuddles me close.

My mind races ahead, and now I have his hands roaming along my arms and down my bare back. My arms are around his neck, and my tongue is dancing with his. I feel his hands move around the bony curve of my rib cage, getting closer and closer to my small, buds. There's only a little puff of soft flesh beneath each hardening nipple.

I groan into his mouth. I feel the rough skin of his palms and fingers as they find my young breasts. Boom... The blast of raw energy shoots me back into the reality of my hike up the mountain. I look around and wonder why I'm breathing so hard. Then I feel the wetness between my legs. Shit! Arousal! I'm getting aroused by my own very lucid daydream. Damn, this is so real! I've still got quite a way to go, so back to my imaginary lover…

I drop back into my daydream just as a mouthful of something hard is being shoved down my throat. My eyes spring upward, and I see him in the throes of heated passion. My lips are around his cock, which is being pushed deeper and deeper into my mouth. Shit! This must be a blow job! The girls talk about this all the time. This is real sex: you take him inside your mouth and throat, and you lick and suck. He pumps his hips in and out, basically face-fucking you, until he ejaculates into your mouth. Good girls always swallow the cum! At least that's what Jenny says, and she’s supposed to be a pro. She's probably the most popular eighth grader in school.

My mystery man is really pumping his thickness in and out, and I'm licking and sucking as best I can, trying to breathe around a mouthful of rock-hard cock. I can feel my own arousal running down my legs, as I enjoy the pleasure that I'm giving him.

His own grunting and groaning are getting more and more heated. I feel his hand combing through my red hair. His hand touches the top of my pointed ear, as he grabs a handful, but he doesn't pull it. Instead he holds my head still as he pushes his manhood deep into my throat.

It's then that I hear him speak for the first time. “Oooh, yes! That feels absolutely perfect. Aaah! I'm going to cum...” he says, in a boyish, but almost baritone, voice.

I can't say a thing with his cock down my throat. I can feel it growing slightly, and then it spews its first heated blast down my esophagus. I feel something like warm oatmeal slide down my throat. It's thick and creamy, and oooh, so pleasantly warm. I feel surge after surge shoot out of his cock and into my stomach. I'm unable to breathe, and just when he begins to pull out of my mouth, I pop back into my afternoon hike again.

Damn, I wish that I could stay in the daydream a bit longer. I wonder what's next? I bet it'll have something to do with me and his cock again. I can see my destination now, but I want to go back into it one more time. This is the weirdest dream I've ever had, especially for a daydream. Who ever heard of a daydream continuing without your control?

And then I have an epiphany—a really startling one. I realize that this is not just my daydream, but an experience that’s being shared with somebody else. The young man in my dream is real, and his daydream has me dropping in for an erotic glimpse and some heated pleasure.

Startled by this knowledge, I drop into his dream again with a sudden jab of pain. I'm sitting on his lap facing him, my legs dangling on either side of his muscular thighs. He's probing away at my slit, trying to find my vaginal opening. He's so excited that he can't seem to hit the hole. I’ve heard that this is a common problem, with an inexperienced lover. My unknown lover boy can't seem to close the deal.

I smile at him, and he ceases his useless humping. “It's okay! Let me help you,” I say.

His eyes bolt open and he freezes in place, shocked by his fantasy girl’s autonomy. It's easy to help him, now that he's not thrashing around like a beached whale. I simply reach between my legs and guide him to my vagina. My hymen is still intact, guarding the opening into the coltish thinness of my young body.

I laugh out loud at thinking of him as “Lover Boy,” but I don't know his name. “So now that you’re aware of me, how am I doing?” I ask him. “I mean, you ejaculated a whole bunch of that white shit down my throat. Was I doing it the right way? It was my first blow job, so I was just wondering.”

He's still not moving, so I lean in to kiss him again. As my tongue probes for his, I begin to rock my pelvis back and forth. This forces the head of his cock to slowly breach the thin membrane of my hymen. The tiny hole in my virginal barrier begins to tear and enlarge, as the head of his penis bullies it's way inside.

My brief squeal of pain announces the failure of my virginity. Now that it’s gone, Lover Boy’s large cock slowly plows ahead. To me, he's enormous, and I'm not sure he’ll fit inside me. The sharp pain from the tearing of my hymen is replaced by the dull ache of his large cock, pressing a little too deeply inside my body. All I know is that I should keep moving my pelvis, using the weight of my body to press that big bad boy into me. He's mostly inside my vaginal canal when he bottoms out.

This pain is not just uncomfortable. It’s agonizing. I quickly lift my body slightly to ease the discomfort that I feel deep inside. He's just watching me intently. I think he’s trying to understand how either one of us has come to be inside this shared dream.

I don't want to disappoint Lover Boy, so I begin to move him in and out of my tightness. I'm not sure how old my dream persona is, but I look to be the same under-aged female that I really am. Our rules governing under-aged sex are quit simple. You injure her because of her young age, or if you take her unwilling, then it's up to the local magistrate to judge that case. We don't have much trouble with this sort of thing on our world.

I soon see him look down and watch, as I take him deep inside my tiny little cunny. He looks up and smiles at me. “I don't care if you’re real or not. This feels absolutely wonderful!” He pauses briefly. “Is this your first time with a man inside you? Like the blow job?” he stammers, as I slowly fuck him.

While we're talking, this unknown young man is fanning a fire that’s burning deep inside me. It's like having a red-hot poker shoved up my pussy, only the fire is from the blaze of pleasure his cock is giving me. What a rush! I should have daydreamed about sex a lot sooner. As my need for release builds and builds, I can see the mirror of my passion blazing in his eyes.

I'm not sure what's happening, but when it hits me, I can feel my mind losing it's battle in the dream world. I’m holding on for as long as I can, as I feel my vaginal muscles tighten around him and squeeze him, milking him in my glove-like tightness. Even as I fuck him, my body explodes in a iridescence of mental energy that sends me back to reality. My final moments with him are focused upon the wonderful feeling of him filling me with his sperm-rich cum.

Shit! My world is spinning! I'm back on the mountain. The dual suns are already falling towards the horizon, and I've got things to do. I've stopped only feet from the circle of power that surrounds the shire of the Earth Mother.

I don't even bother to move. Truth is, I can't. I stand very still and let my breathing return to something like normal. My legs are still shaking from my orgasm. My poor old undergarment is thoroughly soaked, the result of my very lewd and pleasurable daydream. I know my logic was good, but did I really share a waking dream with another? I laugh out loud when I think how stupid that would sound, even to my crazy grandmother. I’ve never heard of such a thing. But one thing for sure, I really liked sharing astral sex with my Lover Boy. Damn, I wish he were real too!

My legs have stopped shaking and I'm breathing better; let's try taking a step. Yes! I can move without face planting. Okay! Let's get to work.

First things first: I take off my soiled undergarment. I use it to clean between my legs as best I can. Damn, that was stupid! Now no undies for the rest of the day, and for the cold night ahead. I get out my water-bottle and rinse out the heavy musk smell. I reach down between my legs and check my vaginal opening. Oooh, thank the goddess! It's still there: my hymen is still guarding my entrance.

I walk over to near the edge of the rocky precipice, and I hang my undies on the branch of a scrawny conifer tree. I'll let the wind dry and deodorize the smelly garment. It won't matter much anyway. Grandma will be all over me like stink on poop! Even nearing the end of her second century, she doesn't miss much.

I walk back to the circle and get everything out of my back pack. I sort through the different items, laying them down on the barren rock. I visualize each one and where it goes, or how to use it in the preparation for tonight's ritual. I take my pure white chalk and start to trace out the large pentagram carved into the circle of power. The shrine itself is a simple obelisk of shiny black obsidian. The circle of power has been carved into the virgin granite of the mountain, its outer ring decorated with the symbols of power, the Earth Mother symbols: earth, wind, fire, water, ice, lightning, and twenty-two others. It’s all of the known forms of Earth Magic.

My grandmother is the warden of the North: Fire! She's the head of the Witches’ Council, the most powerful witches on the planet. Twenty-eight members: each one a high witch; each a warden, the most powerful witch for that earth element. Most witches master—or have a usable, working knowledge of—a selected few. My grandmother is a master of twelve, and a practitioner of ten more.

There are other witches who practice their craft in our village. They include a healer, an expert in husbandry, a herbalist, an apothecary, a potion maker, and a few lesser users of the arts. These are all very important businesses in our village. We witches are very prosperous, and well loved by the other Fae who make up the bulk of our population. Being 120 miles from the Space Port and the Earthers is a blessing.

We have only a few families of Earthers living in our peaceful home area. Most of them work in the government office, and the others own businesses. The children from these families are my schoolmates during the day. A few other Fae families let their children attend school as well, but not many. The distrust between human and Fae runs deep. The reasons are simple: we are different. We look different, we act different, and some of us possess powers that the humans can't explain and are afraid of—whether they say so or not.

I end my mental musing and finish the pentagram. The salt is next. I spread it around the outer ring. I leave a small gap, and I put the bag just on the inside of the circle. Then I take the other elements and put each of them on its symbol. That’s a requirement for this ritual. I'm not a witch, per se, but I soon will be. That's why I'm here. The ritual I'm doing doesn't require the use of my magic. The magic of the Earth Mother is in the circle and the shrine. I'm just calling it up, thanking her for the good harvest, and asking for her blessings during the long winter ahead.

This rite also includes the Three Moon Sisters, and thanking them for the many gifts they bestow upon the people, for instance quiet and contentment for all, and the peace of a good night’s sleep. They protect us from the darkness. Their magic is different, more along the astral plane of reality. Many of the old ones who still inhabit this world, the animals and creatures who are indigenous to Mara, use and wield certain forms of this magic. And so do many of the witches. Telepathy, clairvoyance, and telekinesis are just a few of these gifts of magic and power.

I think this is why Grandma watches me so closely and asks about my dreams. My early manifestations of power are along this line, even more than would be usual for the Sky People.

The twin suns are almost down now. The evening is deepening as I get out the wards. Four white and four black, a matched set for the cardinal points. Setting the wards is like closing a door. With a few simple words, you release the power stored in the stones. I start with the North. As I mumble the words of closure, the stones fuse into one. I walk across the ring and set the South. The East is next, leaving only the West.

It's nearly time to start the ritual, and then hell comes for a visit. As I look up at the three moons nearing alignment, I hear a distant yowl, deep and guttural. Whichever animal is making the noise, it is very angry. Then I see it. Goddess protect me! It’s a nightmare from the deepest hell: an ursäa…one of the old ones who inhabited this world long before the Fae.

It’s a smallish male, twelve feet long and eight feet high, and it crawls toward me over the precipice right beside my drying undies. Shit! Who would guess that some smelly underwear could kill you! The most deadly animal on the planet yells forth challenges that I can't answer. This nasty, two-ton, black, spider-like monster, with pitch-black eyes, pauses to enjoy the easy meat standing before it. I'm completely defenseless. If I were already a witch, at least I could fight this damn thing. I would likely lose, but at least I could make a fight of it.

My fists ball in defiance, and I scream at it. My challenge is mated in a heartbeat, telling me that someone else has come! The yowl is now a deafening roar, but my savior is here. In a blur of purple fur, a giant feline hits the ursäa from the side. It’s a bearcat! Tooth and claw, it tears into the black miscreant monster, ripping it and tearing out giant chunks of armor and flesh.

The bearcat is another of the old ones, nearly as big as the ursäa. They tumble and roll, one growling and roaring and the other hissing and screaming as they fight! The ursäa was focused on me and was surprised, thereby losing the advantages of size, it's heavily armored body, and its eight multi-jointed legs with needle-like tips.

The bearcat has already ripped off three appendages, and is making a shredded mess of the ursäa, when the scream of another ursäa rings across the sanctity of this hallowed shrine. The bearcat knows the source, and flings the injured male against the northernmost wall of the shrine. But the ursäa swipes out with a fore-limb and slices through the side of the bearcat. With a sickening splat, the male ursäa slides down the wall to lay motionless, its bright, fluorescent green blood starting to pool beneath it. It’s dying.

The bearcat, growling and roaring in pain, backs towards me and the circle. Further up on the sheer rock face is the female ursäa, twice as large as the male and mad as hell. It flings itself off the mountainside, to land with a thundering thud next to its dying mate.

It sniffs at the badly injured male before turning towards us. If looks could kill, the bearcat and I would be dead. But where there's life there's hope. I remember my Grandmother's parting words: “Not Today!”

My reality is shifting again, so I begin to move. The bearcat sees me out of the corner of its eye. Almost instinctively, I point to the inside of the circle and the chalk pentagram within it. Grunting painfully, he moves inside the circle. I step behind the giant feline, and with my index finger I close the ring of salt. I quickly hop back into the center of the pentagram and make sure that the cat is inside it as well. I speak the last few words, and I close the wards.

In an instant, a shimmering wall of iridescent white springs up around the circle. The bearcat is beside me and the black shrine is before us both. I spread my arms apart, my left hand low towards the Earth Mother, my right hand high pointing to the three moons. I feel the immensity of their power: a titanic pool below, another above.

I chant aloud, “Mother below, Sisters above! Help us in our time of need.”

I bring my hands together before me, as I hear the scream of death coming for me and the great cat. Then pain. Searing pain. My body feels as if it’s exploding in a torrent of pain. I reach out to the bearcat, and my fingers comb through his coarse fur until I touch the warm, thick hide beneath. My body lurches and I fall against the cat.

The conjunction lasts but a moment, as time slows to a stop. I hear them: One voice is deep and earthy, the others a trio of sisters.

“We have heard you sister! Use well the gifts we give you now. Protect the weak, do not kill needlessly, and care for all on this world!” As they finish, the painful conjunction ends.

Time moves forward again. I glance to my left at the bearcat, my fingers still touching him. His strength is now mine; his bravery is now mine. His mouth is open, teeth bared, as he awaits the end with me. I turn to the ursäa. She's already launched herself into the air. The wards can't stop a physical attack of this magnitude. But once again I remember Grandma's words: “Not Today!”

I reach out with my right hand, and there, above the blazing circle of power and bathed in a bright beam of light from the three moons, is my staff: ancient wood from the Mother, and darkness from the Sisters, woven together like heaven and earth. I hold my new weapon in my hand.

The time of my awakening is not quite done, and already I'm so very tired. But there’s the ursäa. I need to focus now. I need to stop the ursäa, but how... Then I feel it again: the bearcat. Cat and witch, the oldest of companions. The cat helps to enhance the effectiveness, duration, and power of a spell. And I'm touching a cat: a very large cat. Only this time, I'm a witch! The blood of my flowering runs down my bare legs. It’s early in my life and I’m untrained, but instinctively I point my staff at the horror flying at us through the air.

I call upon the bond between cat and witch, and it comes. I feel his surprise, but he doesn't resist. He releases his power, and it flows along my left arm to join mine. Twisting and turning, it flows into my staff. The staff is burning brightly, filled with the energy of my magic.

I simply shout “Stop!” I project my hand, closing around the massive ursäa.

I hold my focus, and let myself rejoin the reality of the moment. The ursäa is suspended above the rocky floor of the shrine. She whimpers in pain. I can feel her struggles to break free as, straining and probing, she tries to escape my invisible restraints.

I can't hold this angry animal for long, but I don't want to kill her either. I can only think of one thing: talk with her.

“Lady! Please don't make me kill you on this hallowed ground. Please...” I project at her.

Her struggles slow and stop, and she responds, “Witchling, can you hear me?”

“Yes, Lady! Please, I mean you no harm,” I plead.

“Your beast has killed my mate! I must avenge him!” she projects angrily.

My own anger flares brightly. “He attacked first! If not for the bearcat, I would be in his belly even now.” I loosen my grip on her ever so slightly.

“It was hunger,” she projects. “We are all hungry. The animals in the Fangs are leaving, or they go inside the holes in the mountains. We cannot hunt them there. He smelled meat. Your scent is strong and fresh. You are small and tender. I could not stop him!”

The answer growing in my mind gets a warning growl from the bearcat. I move forward slightly, removing my hand from the cat. The power of my simple spell weakens and I lower my enemy to the ground.

She remains in place as I walk, staff in hand, through the wards. I stop in front of her, my death possibly only moments away. I point to her dying mate. “He lives! Let's see if we can keep him that way. Okay?” I project quickly, and walk past her toward the male.

He is very weak, but he turns his head towards me. “Peace, brother! I need to touch you,” I project at him. I suddenly realize that the twins suns have long set; nevertheless, even in the darkness, I can still see quite well.

His reply is muddled by his pain: “Sorry, M'lady! Please forgive an old man.”

My eyes tear up as I reach out to this old soul and new friend. He is gravely hurt, and I've had only the basics in healing—or, in this case, “First Aid,” as the Earthers call it. Keep him breathing, keep the heart beating, and stop the bleeding. Okay. Simple, right...

I put my hands on his remaining fore-leg, the one that opened the bearcats side. Shit, the cat’s still hurt too! Now. Focus. Focus, Gabby. My reality changes and I let my mind find his. I block out his pain and help him sleep. His breathing is shallow, his heart slowing by the instant. I start to close off the holes that are gushing his life's blood out onto the cold hard rock. I work quickly to repair him as best I can. Then I work on the smaller injuries, both fractures and smaller holes. He's actually pretty lucky: there's no damage to the vital organs inside.

I stop and listen to him. He's breathing easier, and his heartbeat is already stronger. I gradually leave his tired mind and return to my own. My hand is still on his fore-leg, but my arm and my staff are wrapped around the hard, black-armored leg of the female ursäa. I've been siphoning off bits of her energy, with which to heal her mate.

I step from beneath her and look up. She lowers her head and I touch my hand to the bird-like beak of her upper jaw.

“Thank you Lady. May I have your name?” I ask.

Her mental chuckle is quite unexpected. “Nox, M'lady! And yours?”

I return her mental smile with one of my own, which matches the one on my face. “My name is Abigail, or Gabby to my friends and family.”

“Thank you, Gabby,” she projects sincerely, glancing towards her sleeping mate. “It has been a joy to talk with you.”

She turns to go, but I ask her to wait a moment and cast my mind towards the north. There, in a small valley only a few miles away, lies an injured stag. He is dying after falling down the mountain. He is old, but he will feed them…and many others.

I look up at Nox as she picks up her sleeping mate. “Two miles to the north, there's a small, narrow valley. You'll find a dying stag. Feed as many as you can. I will help you find more when you can't find your own. Peace be with you, Nox.”

Nox looks long and hard at me. “M'lady!” is all she says, and she scurries off to the north with her injured mate.

My bones ache. I turn to the bearcat. He is lying on his side, licking at the jagged wound made by the ursäa. He's none too happy with me, and I can’t blame him. I just risked my life for a second time, and for what? An ursäa.

I smile, acknowledging his displeasure, and walk through the barriers and into the circle of power. I break the western ward and the circle of salt, and get down on my knees. He lifts his massive head to give me another dirty look, then lies down to let me tend his wound.

I quickly check the open gash for any foreign material. I don't find any, but I remember Grandmother talking about ursäa's and poison. Damn! I really need to pay more attention to her obscure ramblings. My friend needs my help now, not when I finally learn all this shit.

I reach my hand out and touch the flesh of his open wound. It's not bleeding very much. This type of wound should be bleeding profusely...there's something very wrong here. I need to open that link between us again. Slowly, I let the tendrils of my mind probe outward. They're like ultra-tiny fingers of energy, looking at, and feeling, the injured flesh. And there it is: a subtle darkness. The corruption is plugging the tiny blood vessels, killing the healthy flesh and destroying the small nerve endings.

I pull my probing mind back ever so slightly, and look into his eyes. He can't hide the pain any longer. I’m close to panicking, so I nearly lose my focus, but there's Grandma, touching my hand as I walk out the door this morning, saying, “Much will depend on your strength, child.”

So now she shows up, that scrawny, nine year old girl. A good wisp of wind would blow me over, but “Not Today,” not me, and not you either, brave one. You gave me your strength and your bravery. You saved us both. Now it's my turn to save you.

With my staff glowing brightly, I unleash the pent up core of light that's inside me. Thousands upon thousands of tiny tendrils surge from my fingers and into the open wound of my friend and savior. He groans painfully, but remains still. Cleansing the wound of the poison is but the first step. Then the real work begins: the knitting, binding, and fusing of all the flesh. Muscle, nerve, sinew, blood vessel, hide: all of of it. I keep on closing, strengthening, and repairing until I'm spent.

I sit back on my haunches, expecting him to bolt, but instead he just lays there quietly watching me. I wearily crawl up near his shoulder and reach down to caress the coarse fur along his jaw line. He shifts his head ever so slightly to lick my hand. His tongue is long, pointed, and very cat-like rough. But just that slightest of touches sends a shiver of happiness down my spine.

Even though his tongue is hanging out the side of his mouth, he gives me another of those damn toothy smiles. I sit back on my haunches and laugh out loud. I laugh and laugh. Then, as I croak out a final strained chuckle, I fall against the massive cat, My arms out. I hug as much of him as I can. There’s a wall of fur-covered muscle beneath me. I sink into his warmth and begin to cry. The terror of a near-death experience comes flooding out of me in a surge of salty tears. But our link grows stronger. I feel his mind gently surround my raw emotions in a blanket of soothing comfort. The noise of his rumbling purr eases my distress and lingering fear. I'm a witch, but way down deep I'm still just a lonely little girl. I still need a friend’s gentle reminder that everything is all right with the world.

I cry for a while, until my tears start to dry on my cheeks. I blink my eyes and look at the bearcat. His eyes are closed, but he's listening to me. “Thank you for saving me!” I tell him. “I wish you didn't have to leave, but I know you must. I just wanted to say good-bye before you left.” I give him another squeeze, and push away from him to stand up.

It's getting pretty late and I feel like shit. I take my water bottle and walk behind a bush to wash between my legs. Damn! My first bleed, and I’ve nothing to staunch the flow. I finally decide to cut off the first two inches from my woolen socks, and I make four small pads. I gather my dry undies from the conifer. A few minutes later I walk up to the bearcat.

He raises up slightly and gives my crotch a quick sniff. He shakes his head in disgust, but lays back down.

I lay my staff along my right side, cuddling it close with my arm. My exhausted mind has one final thought: I'm a witch now! I wonder if I'll still have to go to school with the Earthers.

I wrap my tired body in the warm coverlet and lean back against my bearcat buddy. Once I’ve cleared my mind, I'm asleep in seconds.

My dreams seem to start almost instantly. My Lover Boy is back, with his deep blue eyes and slit pupils. All I can see are the eyes, but I want to see the rest of him: his handsome face, that perfect body. I get up on all fours and slowly back away. There around the periphery of my vision is his hair. No, no, that's not Lover Boy's hair! It can't be! It's bright purple. But as I back up a bit more, I can see that it's him, the bearcat. His face is broad and angular, with a long, thick muzzle, a thin upper lip with long cat whiskers, and long cat ears with little tufts of hair on their tips. He’s a mouthful of fanged death, but, to make it all the more confusing, he's smiling. I believe he's enjoying the bewildered look on my face.

I awake with a start, but he's gone. The spot where he lay during the night is still warm. The twin suns will be coming up soon. Damn! I wish I could have seen his eyes in the light. I look about for my staff. Damn…it's gone too. In near panic, I remember Grandma and her staff. It's always with her, bound to her body and soul. I hold up my right arm and pull back the sleeve, and there’s my staff, curled around it. It's merged with my flesh, just like Grandma's.

I stand up, stiff and sore. The carnage of last night's ritual is all around me in the predawn light. There are long scrapes in the rock, and plenty of dried blood from the ursäa. The circle of power is dark now; all the elements I laid out have been consumed by the ritual. It's quiet and peaceful, but only a few short hours ago… and I let my thoughts just trail off.

I gather up the few things that I'll take back home, and shoulder my backpack. I extend my arm toward the black obelisk and call for my staff. It uncoils from my arm and snaps into my hand. I look back one final time at the place where I slept against a bearcat, and then I head down the rocky trail towards home. I wonder if Grandma will object to me using my witch's staff as a walking stick.

It’s only the beginning...