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MOONTHREAD— The Prologue

Nov 11, 2024

Book 1 of Nala Saga

* * * * / * * * *

…thump-THUMP…

Once upon a Moonful Night,
There was a girl
Who was an orc.

She had gold slitted eyes, and dark green skin…
Her black hair, when light touched it, drank it in,
And when she turned eleven, she…
Began to have True Dreams…

The circle turns,
The circle turns,
The Circle Turns Again!

* * * * / * * * *

PROLOGUE

Hhhh…
The darkness dissapates. It’s day, it seems.
thump-THUMP, she dreams.
Hhhhalf dreaming, half awake, she sees a…
Boy. He’s racing in between
Tall, barren birches, and his— (NO!)
She thinks. (I don’t see him.
I am him. I’m seeing through his eyes,
Like always.) Feet pound.
thump-THUMP
Trees flitting.
thump-THUMP
His heart is racing in her ears.
The colorless bushes scrape at him,
But still, he runs, breathless. He’s hungry.
Hhhhis eyes are colorblind, and hers
Are not. Tonight he hunts.
Tonight, he’s playing…
Hunter.

(Do you prefer to listen? Here’s a live reading of this chapter, by the Author…)

thump-thump
thump-thump
His small hand grips a dagger,
Bone dagger, gripping it so, so tightly, that
It hurts. But still, it’s better than letting it slip
Out of his sweaty, slick grip. The thing…
And what’s within the bone both agree
On something. He doesn’t know what.
Neither does Nala.
He sprints. Shin splints. Trees
Flit on by, those greyscale trees, until he…
Comes upon some creek! He stops and—!
SHHHHH
…Hhhh…
Listen for it.
Hhhh?
Hhhh…
The moon hums, mmm?
Shhhh!
…Hhhh…
Shhhhuka-shuka Shoo!
In the brush! His eyes
Pursue it! Nnnng! He
Goes after, chases, fast feet,
Something furry— thump-THUMP
Where is it? thump-THUMP!
There! It thump-THUMP! There it
Goes, but— Wait, where! I just had it, I
THUMP
I just had it, I—
THUMP
But it’s—!
…
…
…Gone.
Idiot.
(No you’re not, she thinks.)
Slow. Too slow. Clumsy.
Hunger’s clawing, quite loudly, as his stomach starts twisting.
Hhhh! the dagger’s hissing, scolding him.
The dreaming girl flinches, hoping they don’t know she’s there.
The greyscale grass is poking up through every hole in the poor boy’s boots.
The grass is wet, but not alive, so it’s a greasy wet.
The wasted grass is sharp as nettles.
Hhhh! the angry dagger whines.
“I know!” he’s screaming, then the boy
Kicks into action once again, running a little too fast
Through flitting trees, on greasy grass, then—
SLIP!
He falls. A hasty step, too careless. Slow
Motion
Fall. Here comes
The ground, then
SLAM. His chest is flat
As he falls into big, braided roots.
She feels the breath get (HHH) knocked out of him.
Only then does she feel
His pain
Bloom.
hhhhhHHHHHHHH!
“I know it does!” he wants to scream.
But he can’t yet. And even if he could,
Who would hear? (I would, she dreams.) He scoffs,
Then writhes, and turns onto his back,
As if to give up. The dagger won’t like it, but
He lets himself anyway. Let it punish me.
But it doesn’t.
To his surprise, it goes quiet in his hand.
For just a moment, the dagger lets him
Lay there.
He sees (so near) a mountain.
A mountain the dreamer knows, but he does not.
(Hey wait!) dreams Nala.
(Is that… Mount Wraithwood?
I know that place! How did you get all the way over—?)
“Shut UP!” he screams out loud.
She does.
Even the wind joins
In terse silence. “I’m sorry,” he says meekly. She wonders if he means it.

Neither of them notice the strange thing at first.

But the dagger does. And it hisses.

Hhhh! and Nala’s spirit backs away. And now, his pain is flowering.

He squeezes the bone dagger.
But the dagger…
Hhhh?
The dagger understands, and aims some apathy at him.
Hhhhehehehe…. They both know
The dagger can’t heal
Until
It drinks.
It glows. It glows. The bone dagger glows
As red as quenched revenge.
Hhhhis mind goes to the furry thing that got away.
Everyone knows what happens next.
(No, Nala thinks.)
But the boy says, “Fine.” She feels his eyes close, and
(Please.)
And lets
Hhhh…
The Demon
(Don’t.)
In.

He lets the Demon
In.

hhhhhhhhhhhhHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!

He moves with new speed. He’s on his feet. The dagger will be drinking tonight. She blots it out, but then can’t; the Sun, the Sun is out. Its brazen light turns every blade of greasy grass into a knife. He finds the thing. No shadows. He finds the thing, and grabs it. Where’s the moon? No shadows. The world leans red. He gets lightheaded, and so does the dreamer. Each shadow flinches, recoiling away from red day’s touch.

Within a dozen,

Hateful, hobbled breaths, he—

(No) he pins some furry thing

(Don’t) Raises up the cackling dagger, and all of everything is cackling and red as the dagger begins to flay the fl—

* * * * / * * * *

Nala’s eyes snapped open.

Both of them.

She stared up at the ceiling.

Mostly dark in the den, though day was up.

Day’s fingers pried, plying at the edges of each curtain that hung up in the sleeping den.

Thick curtains.

Three curtains.

A triptych, black fabric.

Heavy as her eyes felt.

Nala looked up at the symbols.

Surrounded by moons. How they yawned,

Like 6 open mouthed cauldrons.

thump-THUMP

thump-THUMP. It’s

Just a dream, she thought.

Nala didn’t know how to still her own heart.

But the curtains were magic, and Nala was lucky, at least back when she was eleven.

The curtains kept the day at bay,
And kept young Nala safe. From Sun and Blood,
From many things. Each curtain had
Her family’s symbol— Sister Moons,
One full, one empty. Half dreaming,
Half awake. The sigil of her Mama,
And her Gran, and her Gran’s great-Gran,
And so on, back to the Daughters of Ugru.
Nala half remembered, half made up a memory,
Of when she’d watched them stitch those sigils.
That was back when Nala was just a little baby,

And the cottage was smaller. They’d made them by hand.

Nala wondered why they still did things by hand,

When she knew both her Mama and Gran could do magic.

She wasn’t sure she’d ever understand it.

Nala studied one of the empty moons, the one

The Sun was right behind. Somehow she knew,

Though the curtain let no light pass through it. Still, it—

THUMP

Well, it looked like they’d made all the empty moons

Out of black thread. Though it was the darkest black they had,

Even that was not as black as Nala’s hair was.

Nala’s black hair drank in all the light that tried to touch it.

She turned her scratchy eyes to the full moon,

And looked for any trace of extra color.

The full moon
Was always made out of Moonthread
In Nala’s house.

Moonthread was a simple delight. Nothing special, just fun.
It was grey in the day, but at night, turned all colors.
Sometimes, it changed quickly, like hummingbird wings.
Sometimes, all the colors went slow, like the soil
That breaks to give way to a little spring sprout.
Nala used to look at those curtains all night,
Studying the colors as they changed instead of sleeping.
thump-THUMP
But the day was
thump-THUMP
Getting in, and
thump-THUMP
thump-THUMP
thump-THUMP
It’s—

Mmmmmmm…. hummed the curtains.

It was day, but still…

They pulsed, just…

More softly.

(Hhhh…)
“But it’s—”
thump-THUMP
“I—”

mmm-mmm-mmm…

mmmm…

Nala’s hair fanned out all around her, like tendrils of a dark halo. Her hair lay there undone, and billowed up around her like a tangle of protective pet snakes.

mmmm…

Little rays of day’s light tried to pry their way in. But they couldn’t get through, to the girl in the den.

mmm-mmm-mmm…

mmm…

mmmm?

Okay, Nala thought.

She heard the wind hiss.

(Hhhh…?)

But it felt so very far off.

mmm-mmm-mmm…

Then, sleep…

mmmm…