Fiction logo

Luna and I

A Story About Accepting the Time to Fly

By DrakePublished 2 years ago 24 min read
Like

Ice slips through my veins, flooding my limbs till the tips of my fingers grown numb. My breath comes out in clouds. The frost hangs in the air, glimmering, quickly being whipped away from the growing wind. It presses against my face, snags on my clothes and tangles in my hair. Twisting bands of power and air that weigh heavy on my chest. Breathe. I can’t breathe. Still, I forge my path forwards, words tripping from numb lips.

I can’t stop the spell. This far into the ritual, the backlash will destroy me. I just have to endure the biting cold that comes with the draining energy, the growing heat as the ritual circle in front of me begins to light up. One by one, the sigils fill with blue-white light. I feel it more than see it; my eyes pressed closed against the onslaught. But it’s progress, and progress is a good thing.

Come on, come on. My lungs are screaming, both pain and cold. I have no air to speak. But I can’t stop now. The power is building, replacing frigid air with welcoming warmth. So close. So close. A bit further as my body starts to hum. My voice is hoarse, breathless, as it stumbles through the last steps of the incantation, weak as a runner just finishing a 15k race.

In response to my tripped finish, the power explodes. Heat rushes across my skin. Even through closed lids, the light is almost blinding. Then it’s gone, a vacuum left in its place. It’s so sudden, I nearly collapse onto the floor. My breath comes out in ragged gasps. It fills everything for a moment, the rapid beating of my heart, my panting – it’s all I hear.

Then another noise breaks through the sound, and I freeze. It’s almost like a cry, soft and warbling. A purring cry. Something in me relaxes and despairs all at once. I give in and let my head rest against the floor. It’s cool against my forehead. Better, certainly, than the burn in my eyes.

Something scrapes against the floor. The slight brush of air against my face, something soft barely tracing against my cheek. There’s an impact beside me, a light one, like something landing. Another warbling cry. A beak takes my hair, begins to groom, and instantly, I know I have failed.

My name is Dawn Highmore, and I am a practicing witch. I come from a long lineage of witches, in fact. Songsters in particular. We weave music and magic together. To nobody’s surprise, my families’ familiars come in the shape of songbirds. Every Highmore child that has ever done this ritual comes out of the workroom with a songbird on their finger, ready to take the next step in their practices.

Except, apparently, for me. It isn’t enough that I can’t hold a tune. It isn’t enough that my voice breaks if I talk for longer than a minute. It isn’t enough that instruments recoil from my touch, strings breaking and metal bending as if by magic – and trust me, it isn’t. I’ve tried everything in my power to see if I’m cursed. I’m not. I’m just bad at music. Bad at singing. Bad at holding a beat.

And now I’ve failed at what would have guaranteed me a place in my family’s coven, no matter my musical prowess. I haven’t summoned a songbird. I haven’t even summoned a bird that looks pretty, can serve as some sort of decoration.

No, instead, I’ve summoned a silent killer. A ghost on wings. A banshee of a spirit, too.

A barn owl.

I would like to despair, I really would. I want to lay there and cry, let my tears pool against the floor. There’s a pit in my stomach that I can’t climb out of. My last chance. My last chance to uphold the Highmore legacy. Gone. Stolen by silent wings. But there’s no use crying in this room, not when I have my bed, not when I can bury my tears in soft pillows later.

As if in an attempt to console me, the owl’s beak runs through my hair again. There’s another purring click. Despite myself, I do loosen. At least enough to push myself up and take a look at the one I have summoned. My familiar.

She’s beautiful, in a deadly way, at least. Her face is heart shaped; cream lined with soft gold. The rest of the pattern continues down her body. Cream speckled with gold that travels to her throat and stomach. The top of her head, back, and wings, are darker. Gold shifting to brown, speckled with spots of black and chocolate. But it’s her eyes that capture me the most. Large and dark in her face, black pools that I can feel myself drowning in. Soulful. They’re soulful.

I don’t need all the lessons I have learned up to this point to feel the bond solidify between us. A thread of power. Warm. Comforting. Her presence brushes up against my mind with the softness of her feathers. The bond between witch and familiar, already settling into completion. From now on, she’ll be my best friend, confident, conduit. The reflection of my soul, where my abilities lie.

Her name brushes across my skin before I can fall into despair once more. Luna.

I swallow hard, shift, so I’m no longer leaning on my hands. She watches me, her head cocking to the side. Those dark eyes track my movements. Carefully, I stretch my hand to her, stop just before my fingers can graze her feathers.

“Hello, Luna.”

She reaches out and gently clasps her beak over my thumb. It’s an odd gesture, the slightest pressure against my skin. My fingers brush against her feathers, softer than any I’ve ever touched. It’s almost like having my hand held by a blanket.

Hello, Dawn.

Oh – for a moment, I can barely breathe past the tears that threaten to rise. This time it’s not for all I’ve lost. This time, it’s for all I’ve gained. Clarity as to why I’ve never properly fit in. This precious owl, who holds my thumb so carefully between her beak, who stares at me with such dark eyes.

I press my other hand to my mouth and swallow, hard. That doesn’t stop my voice from cracking. “I’m sorry, I don’t – I don’t have things set up for you yet. It will be a bit before I’m ready.”

That’s alright. She nibbles my finger lightly. Another soft, warbling croon rises from her.

I swallow, nod. I’ll need a glove, won’t I? A leather glove, so she can rest on my arm without her talons piercing my skin, or a shoulder pad, so she can sit there. The equipment in my room isn’t big enough for her either. I’ll need a new set. Possibly, a book on how to take care of owls, too. A different type of food –

I’m getting ahead of myself. I need to face the music of my family first. The very thought sends a spike of apprehension shooting through me, ice-cold like the magic that had so recently filled this room. I force a deep breath, slowly pull my hand from her beak. She releases me. I push to my feet. Shaking, I smile down at her. “We’re in the house right now, so the sun shouldn’t hurt your eyes.” A swallow. “My family isn’t – we weren’t expecting something like you.”

She gives another warble. I can manage, as long as I have you.

That sentiment feels like a punch to the gut. Tear burn my eyes, but I swallow anyway, nod. My arm reaches out, so she can hop onto it. “Then let’s go.”

Luna is lighter on my arm than I expected her to be, but still heavier than any of the songbirds I’ve carried before. Her claws dig into my arm for stability. They haven’t broken skin yet, but I can still feel the strength in her grip. A leather glove will definitely be needed. Possibly, a hawking kit as well? What did those have … hood, jesses, toy? Weren’t there toys in hawking kits?

It’s a circle, a desperate circle of thoughts and questions, as I step out of the workroom. Some attempt to forget what’s going to happen. But it doesn’t work. The list of things I will need scatters at the first surprised gasp. I stop in front of the door. Luna shifts on my arm, her feathers ruffling, puffing up a bit in an attempt to look bigger. The attempt gives some comfort. I rip my gaze from the floor and look at my family

Shock. I can see I painted across their faces. My father stares at me with eyes wider than Luna’s. My mother’s jaw swings loose. My grandma leans against her cane for support, glasses slipped halfway down her nose. My sister stumbles back, her hand reaching up automatically to protect the swallow on her shoulder. Only my younger brother, too young to have done his own summoning, isn’t struck dumb. His breath rushes out in a whispered, “Wicked.”

I flinch. Already I’m holding Luna closer to my body, as if I can protect her. This is just the beginning. Waiting in the dining room is the rest of the family, aunts and uncles and cousins, all eager to see my successful summoning. And like my immediate family, they will all be shocked and disappointed by my failure. I feel sick.

“Dawn Rose Highmore. Explain yourself this instant.”

My mother’s voice shatters the silence, and I wince again. On my arm, Luna puffs up more. Her beak clicks rapidly, her wings half rising. Warning. My other hand reaches up to smooth her feathers down. Some attempt at comfort that I sorely need for myself. But I can’t leave my mother waiting for an answer – a lesson that I learned long ago.  I swallow hard, force myself to meet her gaze. “I summoned my familiar, mother.”

“Summoned your familiar?” Her voice comes in a near shriek. “What you have done is summoned an owl. Not a proper familiar.”

“I think it’s cool!” My brother says, valiantly.

My mother’s voice crashes against his excitement like a tidal wave. “Alexander, Jess, go tell everyone else there has been a delay. Now.” Her voice cuts through the gathering protest.

Pouting, Alexander slips away. Jess follows right after, hand still hovering as if to protect her swallow.

With the distractions gone, my mother steps forwards. Her heels click against the floor. Click. Click. Click. I wince, shrink back. Luna gives another hissing warble. Her wings rise, her feathers with them. It doesn’t deter my mother’s path.

“Do you know what you have done, Dawn? You have failed the most important task a Highmore can accomplish. Now, your lack of talent is painfully clear. You will not be able to become part of our coven. You will have to learn a new style of magic to fit your … owl. Do you understand me?”

They’re like daggers, her words. My defiance and almost excitement bleeds out onto the floor. “Yes, mother.”

“Good. James? Come with me. We must explain this situation now. Before Alexander and Jess entirely ruin it.” With that, she’s spinning around again. The click of her heals is nearly drowned out by my father’s footsteps, the strike of my grandmother’s cane.

I can’t breathe until I feel their presences, their power, disappear after them. Shaking, I lean back. Luna offers a warbling croon, comfort that is sorely needed. There’s a lump in my throat and my eyes burn like fire. I have to press one hand against them to keep my breathing even. I’d known it, I’d known it since the first warbling cry, but now my family’s disappointment wraps tight around my neck, squeezing.

Failure. I’m a failure. Instead of upholding our legacy, I’m destroying it. This is just the beginning, and the possibilities swim before my eyes in nauseating turns and twists. If I’m lucky, I might be allowed to stay, and Mother could bring in a witch from … somewhere to teach me how to use my magic properly. If I’m not, then I could be sent away, or worse, just kicked to the curb and left to rot. That option makes my throat choke up. The tears press against my eyes all the more for it.

Someone croons, anxious and worried, and the sound cuts through my twirling thoughts. I glance up at Luna. Her head is tilted, and she watches me with those soulful eyes, considering. Finally, she croons again, her feathers ruffling. You need to eat.

Maybe she’s right. My hands are shaking, my stomach clenched. With my energy drained from the ritual, all these possibilities seem too much to face. I’m not confident that I’ll be able to keep much down, but I can try. So, I nod. My voice is a rasp. “Alright.”

I retreat to the shelter of my room, a bowl of stew held carefully in my hands. Luna has moved to my shoulder. Her claws press against my skin. Her feathers brush against me cheek. Carefully, her beak threads through my hair. Are you all, right?

“I don’t know.” I mumble, closing my door with my hip. The words spill out of me, shaking. All the fears that have beat against my chest finally let loose. “My mom could disown me for this. I won’t be able to become part of the coven. I’ll never be able to live up to her expectations. I –” My voice breaks as another thought comes to me. The idea near makes me sick. “I’m a danger to everyone here. I’ve been training with the wrong magic my whole life and if one thing goes wrong, I could put everyone here in danger –”

Dawn.

Luna’s voice cracks through my rant, and my jaw snaps shut. She starts to groom my hair again in some comforting touch. Breathe, Dawn. Breathe.

Alright. I can manage that. Slowly, I start breathing. In and out until the panic ebbs away, and I can think again.

We’ll figure something out.

I nod, set my soup on the dresser. “I hope so.” My voice lacks confidence. But … there’s nothing I can do about this, right now. My mother might be angry, scared, worried, yet I can’t let myself dwell on that. Otherwise, I really will worry myself into throwing up. I turn around, force some cheer into my voice. “There’s a perch you can use over there. It might be a bit small, but it should hold you.”

I hope.

Luna gives me one of her purring warbles, before she launches herself off my shoulder. Her wingtips brush against my face. I almost stumble against the dress with the kickback. Still, it’s almost magical to watch her glide across my room to land on the delicate perch near my bed. The metal nearly squeals with the weight. It bows slightly, but the contraption doesn’t fall over. Not even when Luna ruffles her feathers, shifts her weight.

Her head spins around, nearly backwards, and cocks to the side. Are we ready to eat?

“Yeah.” I reach into the belt pout the cooks gave me and pull out some chopped-up meat. For a moment, I stare at it, can’t help but feel that this is what I’m going to be when my mother is through with me. Chopped meat. Then the slimy feeling kicks in. I wince, walk over to place it in Luna’s dish. “Bon appétit.”

Luna chuffs in amusement, ruffling her feathers before dipping down to eat. I watch for a moment, smiling despite myself, before I head to the bathroom. Wash hands, then food, and try not to think, so I can keep the meal down.

The door creaks open. I glance up from my book sharply, and for a moment, I’m afraid it will be mother, here to deliver bad news. But it’s not mother. Alexander stands there, an awkward grin on his face. His gaze flicks to where Luna has fallen asleep on her perch, head tucked in slightly and feathers puffed up. His interest is completely transparent.

Despite myself, I can’t help a smile. His presence is comforting. I close my book. The leather-bound back is soft from ages of use. “Hey, did you need something?”

Hurriedly, his eyes flick back to me. He flushes. His toe scratches against the carpet. “I was hoping I could come in.” 

“Come on then.”

He smiles, sudden and bright. With quick steps, he moves over and hops onto the bed beside me. The springs creak as he does so, and Luna shifts slightly. When he speaks, his voice has dropped to a low whisper. “What are you reading?”

Flavors of Witchcraft,” I murmur back to him. It’s a beginner’s book, but I need a refresher. This book is supposed to have a table of familiars and the magic they correspond with, but so far, I haven’t been able to find it.

Predictably, Alexander makes a disgusted face. “Boring.”

“Not everything can be spell work,” I sigh. But he’s right. I thumb against the cover again and stare at Luna. In the light of my room, she looks all cream and gold. Some valuable creation instead of the failure my family will see her as. I let out another low breath and glance over at Alexander. “How did they take it?”

He tugs at a lock of black hair and purses his lips. It’s a false front in an attempt to mollify. Soon his true amusement shines through. “You should have seen their faces! Aunt Aggie dropped her glasses in her cup. Uncle Fredrick jaw dropped so low he could have swallowed a bird. At least two of our cousins pretended to swoon. Great aunt Marline actually did swoon. Dad had to catch her. Absolute pandemonium. When I summon my familiar, I want it to be an eagle, so their reactions are even funnier.”

He won’t get an eagle, that is something I can already tell. Alexander has our family’s penchant for music. When the time comes, he’ll summon a songbird, just like the rest.

I bite the inside of my lip to keep the acid hurt from spilling out. My voice is forced cheerful. “Then it sounds like the revelation went about as well as to be expected. I’ll be carted out soon enough.”

“Nah, they won’t do that.” He speaks with the confidence that often comes with his age. “You’re family. We’ll just have to find a teacher for you, is all.”

“I hope you’re right.” Despite trying, I cannot keep my laugh from turning bitter.

Alexander’s shoulder knocks into mine. It’s warm, a bit of stability when the whole world feels like it’s collapsing around my head. “I’m always right.” He says, chipper as anything, and this time my laugh is a bit more real. He joins in, giggling and snorting. It feels good to laugh with him. A bit of the weight lifts off my shoulders.

Finally, when our laughter has subsided, he speaks again. “What’s her name?”

I glance over to Luna. She’s shifted again at our laughter. Her head tucks under her wing at an impossible angle. The spots on her chest and her stomach near glow like gold coins. The sight makes me loosen more. I smile, and it is honest. “Her name is Luna.”

“Luna’s a good name,” Alexander says. His shoulder bumps mine again, and he smiles.

I smile down at him. “Yes, it is.”

By the time Mother steps into the room, Alexander and I are neck deep into spell books, searching for the magical affinity owls were supposed to represent. Flavors of Witchcraft had been a bust. My memory must be faulty because I had sworn they were in there, but there had been nothing. There is nothing in any of my other books either. I suppose it’s not that much of a surprise. We would have had better luck in the library.

“Dawn.”

My mother’s chilly voice snaps me out of my reading. My head jerks up, my eyes going wide. She stands in the doorway, her arms crossed, her cold eyes regarding Alexander and me. They travel across the strewn spell books, slowly move up to Luna, who's paused in her preening. Finally, they travel back down to me.

“We need to talk.”

I can barely hear her words over the pounding in my ears. Shakily, I straighten. My voice sounds a shade too meek. “Yes, mother.”

“Alexander? Your father needs you.”

He freezes, and glances at me, uncertain. I swallow and shake my head. He nods. His hand pats my shoulder for the barest moment, and his whispered ‘good luck’ is not enough to make me feel any better. Then he’s off, clambering off my bed and slipping through the doorway. Now it’s just Mother and I, staring at each other across the gulf of my room.

I try to stop my shakes. Back straight, hands in my lap, shoulders, and face even. It barely works. I have to lace my fingers together to stop my trembling. As if to comfort me, Luna launches off her perch to glide to my shoulder. The perch gives a shriek of protest as she does so. Somehow, she manages not to hit my head with her wings. Instead, her soft feathers press against my face, and I can breathe.

“What did you need, Mother?”

She regards me for a long moment. She doesn’t move from the doorway. Her shoulder rests slightly against the wood. The starling that sits on her shoulder shifts a bit, as if uneasy with Luna’s presence. That reassures me more than anything else does.

“Your familiar summoning, did you do everything correctly? Every line, every rune, every incantation? Your voice didn’t break during it?” The questions come one after another, sharp, unwavering.

I try not to wince. “Yes, mother. I did everything correctly.” Breathe, force myself to meet her gaze. “If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have summoned anything, would I have?”

“I suppose that’s true.” She says, her lips pursed in reluctant agreement. “Very well then. I accept that your familiar is indeed this … owl. It explains why you lack affinity for our magic. I see you’ve been researching as well. Have you found anything yet?”

“No, everything I have in my room is on our type of magic.” They’re all failed attempts at trying to increase my skills or understand why I have no talent. None of them had been helpful then, and they aren’t helpful now.

“I see,” she says, “then I suppose I should tell you the good news. Aggie’s branch of the family has some dealings with owl familiars. A witch family close to theirs summons them frequently. You will be returning with them to stay with this family until you learn sufficient control of your magic.”

I freeze, breath sticking in my throat. Luna presses against me and gives off a faint, worried chirr. Her voice slips through my mind, but I can barely understand the words. Away. She’s sending me away. Away to a branch of the family I barely talked too, even further than that. Off to a family she doesn’t know, I don’t know. A bunch of strangers with owls who could be absolutely anyone, and the thought near makes me sick.

Everything I know is here. My father, my brother, my sister, my grandmother. I don’t want to leave them behind. I’m not some piece of art my mother deems unworthy and is passing off to someone else because of it. My hands ball in my lap. I look up at her, force my voice even and cold. “No.”

“Excuse me?” The words are sharp.

I swallow, straighten. It’s hard to meet her gaze, but I must. “I said no. I’m not just going to leave because you deem me not worth keeping. This is my home, and I’m not going. We can bring in a tutor, or a –"

“No.” Her voice slips even sharper. Her eyes burn. “This is not about your skill level, Dawn, this is about the safety of my coven, and my family. You are dangerous right now, and we are not prepared for whatever magical accidents you will have.”

“And you think a random family in the middle of nowhere will?” My voice comes out in a near shriek. I’m standing before I think, my hand lashing out to the side. Luna flaps for balance, her warning chirr a low growl by my ear.

“Yes, they will.”

Her cold answer stops me in my tracks. I stare at her, disbelieving, hurting. She continues, and her voice doesn’t waver. “They are witches used to the magic owls bring. Whatever you can do, this house is unprepared for. They will be prepared, and you will learn better in that environment than here. Do you want to put your father in danger? Your sister? Your brother?”

I flinch. “No …”

“Then you understand what must be done.” She returns. “You have time until then. We must get into contact with that family, and you need time to pack and process. You’ll have time to get a head start on your training as well. Dinner will be ready in two hours, if you feel up for it.” And with that, she’s out of the room, door shutting behind her.

Leaving me in my room, alone, except for Luna. For a moment, I can barely feel her weight. All I can see is my mother’s form, spelling out my future with sharp, short words, leaving no room for argument. As easy as that, my life uprooted. I’m not ready. How could I ever be ready? I don’t want to leave this place behind. I don’t want to leave my family behind.

Dawn, Luna calls. Her body presses against the side of her face, her feathers soft against my cheek. She takes my hair in her beak and starts to groom. Do you really want to stay here?

“Yes.” My voice rasps out. I clench my fingers tight together and watch as my knuckles grow white. “This is home, Luna. I can’t just leave. I don’t want to leave.” My eyes squeeze shut, and I take in a shaky breath.

But do you want to stay with her? Luna asks, and for a moment, I can see what she saw. My mother blocking the doorway, blocking my escape. Her eyes burn. Her face is all cold disgust and disdain, all targeted towards the one who couldn’t make the cut.

I flinch away from the sight, fingers curling tighter in on each other. No, I don’t want to stay here. I don’t want to stay pressed under her thumb, hearing her sharp voice, and feeling her disapproval. But at the same time, I don’t want to leave Alexander here for her to focus her attention on. He might have the gifts, but his rebellious streak will be quickly stamped out if I leave.

Luna gives a low croon, and her wing wraps around my head. A hug, and my eyes start to burn for it. I swallow hard again, listen close as her voice slips through my mind once more. There comes a time when every chick must fly from their nest. Sometimes it happens before you are ready, but it still happens. You cannot keep your brother safe forever, and he would not want you to. So, fly Dawn. Take this chance and fly.

I wince at her words, but they make sense, more sense than I would like to admit. For a long time, I don’t answer. My mind runs in circles, over and over again. My mother. My brother. My mother. My brother. I stare at the back of my door, at the sheet music that hangs there from some long ago attempt to learn to read the darn thing. The sight of it nearly makes me break. Another testament to my failures. Another testament to what I am not made for.

I cannot stand it. The black notes that stare accusingly from the white paper. The books that coat the bed. The silly little perch, meant for a bird a third the size of Luna. I pick up one of the books and throw it against the door. It hits with a satisfying thunk, falls to the floor with a second. It doesn’t feel like enough. Within seconds, I’m standing, hurtling the rest of the pile at the door. Luna flees from my shoulder. The books coat the ground in various stages of injury.

Finally, my hand hits nothing. My anger recedes with the lack of objects to throw. Growling, I sit down, bury my face in my hands. Luna comes back to my shoulder, and her wings wrap around my head. Another hug, another press of feathers against skin and hair. More comfort than I really want, right now, but somehow the knot in my stomach eases.

I know what I’m going to choose, if only because I’d known from the beginning that I would not be allowed to stay. At least this way, it’s my choice. At least this way, instead of fighting my mother’s decisions, I am choosing to discover who I am instead. I’m still terrified. So much of me doesn’t want to go. But I cannot let that part stop me.

“Alright.” I mumble, my voice heavy with resignation, “I’ll fly. I’ll fly.”

family
Like

About the Creator

Drake

Nothing will change if you don't take that first step forwards. So take it. What could go wrong?

Reader insights

Be the first to share your insights about this piece.

How does it work?

Add your insights

Comments

There are no comments for this story

Be the first to respond and start the conversation.

Sign in to comment

    Find us on social media

    Miscellaneous links

    • Explore
    • Contact
    • Privacy Policy
    • Terms of Use
    • Support

    © 2024 Creatd, Inc. All Rights Reserved.