Ona was the dark one. Her magic was born of the ancient way. Her colors represented blood and the night. She taught me how to send back the energies of my enemies. I found that I did not need her magic as long as I was alone. My enemies were few and far between, as far as I could see and reversals were taken in stride in Ona’s teaching. She also offered up the stronger winds of fate for me as a last resort of protection and so I learned to utilize that sect of my magic regimen.
Andreea taught me the ways of healing. I learned to pass energy down and out of my limbs and into the sick. A wounded rabbit was lying near the spring and Andreea told me to heal the animal. At first I could do nothing and then at the third try, harnessing the power of 3, I felt the warmth radiate through my hands and into the bloody fur of the hare. In moments, the animal turned and bit me in a twisted version of thanks. It hurt like hell but I smiled at the fact that I had learned to heal small animals. She then taught me to reverence and give thanks before she spirited away so Yelvina could take over.
I, Yelvina, learned the plants and their usages, I learned the crafts of fortune and longevity; but then I grew saddened at my last lesson. One stepped in, when Yelvina refused to call to the patron of love.
Ona, Andreea and Yelvina all then started to teach me the love of self. We sat in a circle around my fire and chanted the fire to “come” I opened my mouth and the flames danced in, marching like little fireflies upon my tongue. I felt the warmth pass through me and began to sing. The voice of the triad made the forest go quiet and then I fell to sleep to dream.
The next day, Ona secretly taught me how to lure love to my abode. She warned me not to tell the others or else she would have to go away forever. I promised Ona and bid her farewell for the season. One silohette dissipated in the smoke of the dying fire from the night before.
The season was coming and so the Triad left me, one at a time, and went to wherever triads might go. I was alone again, three nights before my moon. I prepared myself for the transformation.
My seasons are not with every blood moon, I will not allow it. I cannot face my beast that often, it scares me so. On those times that I let myself run wild and free, I sometimes catch a glimpse of my reflection in a pool of standing water, the spring or even the lake. I do not like what I see and I always remember. If I see myself, I cry because I hate my gift, my illness, my disorder. Deep within the secret parts of me, I have sometimes deceived myself into believing that those village girls have a better life. They have comfort and a regular routine. The face of the beast does strange things to my mind and at that moment directly after transformation, I am tormented horribly by what I cannot have.
I keep to myself the secret desire to have what they have and to be able to fit in with those nasty girls.
It is not until much later, after the blood moon has passed that I realize my delusions of granduier.
I will never be like the villagers. I am the beast.
For days I do not dance through the forest and I do not sing with the birds. I cry in the eaves by the rabbit thatch.
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