Primal Moon Read Online Free PDF Page A

Her focus narrowed on something. There hanging off a branch were her
clothes, dry as a bone.
    Aziza stood to her feet
instantly, frightened by the fortune. It could not be a good one.
It also meant she was as enchanted as ever. She plucked her clothes
from the bush, put them on and fled. She ran through the forest in
what had become nightfall. Another day lost in a place she should
not have been, to escape a place she hate being.
    A place she may have put herself
because she couldn’t follow one simple little order.
    ****
    The night was again upon her.
Aziza was blindly locked in an anonymous grid of forest shrubbery
through which she had to find her way. It would take her forever to
get home. At least with the hour came some mercy that the Gregors
would most assuredly be smashed on mead and unconscious.
    Welted by fairy bites, Aziza was
famished. She had not eaten since the morning of the day before and
the little magical excursions left her spent. It was difficult to
plod forward to realize that even once she made found her way home,
there wasn't going to be anything to eat. She did all the cooking
for her household and she hadn't been there really in days. Starved
and weary, and just about to hole up til the sun, she heard laughter
tinkling through the air. Music and laughter.
    It was Saturday night.
    A relic of Druid tradition, the
clan gathered to celebrate the end of the week. Fairies buzzed the
campfire mischievously. The only maidens allowed to attend the
festivities were of marrying age. Younger girls were allowed to
participate in the set up but come the witching hour, it was
definitely an affair for the married, the marriage prospects and the
strictly invited.
    Aziza was never invited to the
end-of-the-week. Belonging to the laird afforded her no privileges,
no respect. She was regarded as a servant. She could set up like an
unspoken-for maiden and that was it. She did so begrudgingly while
suffering the whispered remarks and jokes about her strange Egyptian
features. In her country, the whispers had been of astonishment for
how beautiful she was. Here, the cackles and the giggles, were never
words said bravely to her face, but snidely. And though Aziza
recognized the distinct presence of envy and therefore knew they did
not think she was so ugly, the ridicule pained her deeply. Had she
been an English or an Irish girl, she believed over time that the
exclusion would have lessened. Perhaps had she arrived to the clan
with the laird, she might have been treated differently altogether.
Certainly she would not have been beaten or accused of mating with
her host. The laird said she was beautiful recalled Aziza wistfully.
She had not heard that in such a long time. She had no idea how much
she missed hearing it.
    Without regard to her appearance
or her eligibility to attend, Aziza tracked the sounds of the
celebration for there would certainly be food and a way home. She
crashed the scene, almost collapsed on the table, her only focus on
food. In Egypt, Aziza ate grains and beans, occasionally beef. Here
she was forced to eat so much meat which included every grotesque
part of the animal that she would never become accustom to. Only
after shoveling a few bites of their putrid forever foreign-tasting
food, did she see Laird MacDunna bearing down on her, apparently
stunned by what he saw. She reflexively turned her head, to hide the
blush burning her alive. Acute recollection of the feel of his body
beneath hers in the water visited her. She had to get away from him
because his desire for her was just the fruit of a magic spell.
Though he deserved being tricked after what she endured, she didn’t
want his attention if she was going to be his feast on a ceremonial
table. As handsome as he was, she wasn’t sure if she wanted
him under any circumstances. She had to do something. He was
reacting more and more to her. He smiled as he leaned into whispered.
"You're telling on me, lass."
    Last week, a good