I wish I knew why I was born with the mark of a half-moon, but I was abandoned at the edge of a forest as a baby. Leading my forest army into war and fighting for my people is all that matters. I don’t need family and friends because I love my bow and arrow and I certainly don’t have time for relationships or sex.
At least, it’s how things used to be. Nothing has been the same ever since the pretty witch Marwa chased me until we fought. Now I can’t sleep without thinking about how she kissed me or the embarrassing way she played with my body. And I allowed her to do those things! I should be ashamed of myself, but I can’t stop thinking about her.
There’s more. The river and trees are dying and the moon had cracked into two. Everyone says the witches are to blame. How can the rift be healed? My people and Marwa’s have been enemies since time began. Is it too late to stop the rot?
Her skin against mine intensified the heat. I turned onto my side, wanting badly to run a finger across her tummy. “Who are you? Why have you done this -- whatever it is? I never asked for it. Have you enchanted me? Why do I keep imagining a moon?”
She caught my hand with her own and held it up to show me we bore the same birthmark of a half-moon. When our hands came together, the crescents became a full moon. “Maybe because of this. I don’t understand it either, but I do know we’re meant to meet and our fates are tied up together. See how the moon becomes whole?”
All words left my head. Nobody remembered the days when the moon was whole. It was many years since a dark cloud had descended, splitting the moon apart. A remaining shard was all that was left. “But how can it be? Have you put a spell on me and done this on purpose? Why do I? Why is my body aching?”
She reached up to my face and gently stroked my cheek until my insides turned to mush. “Not on purpose. We’re part of a prophecy that was written long before either of us was born. I’ve done nothing but what you see and know inside your heart. Your people have lied to you, baby. I’m not filthy or dirty and I’d never do anything you didn’t ask for.” She traced my lips with a light touch. “Or beg for. You’d like to beg, wouldn’t you?”
Although I’d been touched many times -- by the troops -- her fingers trailing across my skin was utterly different. I closed my eyes to savor the sensation, which I pretended was abhorrent, but which caused bolts of intense heat to spread throughout my lower belly and between my legs. “Stop. It?”
She lightly squeezed my nose. “Stop? I don’t want to stop. It’s fun -- you’re sulky and arrogant. All these years I’ve believed forest folk are boring, and yet here you are --" Her eyes teased my body. “Sweaty, hot, and pretty. I’ve been lied to as well as you. Rohene. Red cheeks and kissable lips, tight plaits which need to be unraveled, and the most delicious tiny butt. How I’d like to unpeel you like a juicy summer orange. Did I mention hot? I could fight with you all day and all night. Do you want me to stop?” She stroked my stomach languidly, while I pushed upwards like a dog demanding a belly rub.
I knew to say yes, but my confused brain screamed against doing so. “Why -- wouldn’t I? I don’t feel right. What’s happened to me? Stop affecting me!” It didn’t seem right to be out of control and emotion, while she remained perfectly composed. “How come you aren’t hot and sweaty too?” Though there was no denying the truth: The witch was smoking hot.
She laughed softly. “You don’t think I’m affected by the way we fought -- fiercely -- without rules? Panting like dogs and grunting like forest pigs. I’m affected! I want to do it again and again -- naked next time. It was exhilarating. Maybe the first time I’ve felt completely alive. How I’ve missed playing, and yes, fighting. Witches don’t fight. They mutter spells and gather the spider’s gossamer thread. How I’ve longed for a real companion who wants to feel the same way as me. I’ve never seen anyone bar their teeth before. Do it again?” She clutched at my hair and pulled it suddenly until my face nudged hers.
