Mara and Morok. Лия Арден

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СКАЧАТЬ with a full moon makes the snow shimmer and twinkle like stars. And the frost in the air bites your cheeks and tickles your nose.

      I breathe out a small cloud of steam, wrap myself tighter into my fur-lined scarlet cloak and take a few apprehensive steps towards the woods. My legs in high, winter boots sink into the snow up to the middle of my shin.

      I cringe when Anna overtakes me at a run and dives into the snow, breaking its perfectly smooth surface. She laughs merrily, throwing snow in the air with both her arms and legs, and then squeals when some of it falls behind the collar of her jacket. My lips break into a smile but I quickly recover myself. I sheepishly glance up to the temple and press my index finger to my lips, urging her to keep quiet.

      It’s been a month since I turned fourteen and Anna became a Mara one winter ago. The second and coldest month of winter has come. Koliada, Maras’ favorite holiday, has already passed. The sisters have made the round of all the neighboring villages, receiving gifts and making sure no evil spirits made a home there. Anna is too young for these outings and I was left behind to keep an eye on her. We were both disappointed and sulky because we weren’t allowed to dance around the bonfires with the others or visit village dwellings to sing carols and get treats in return. But sisters Irina and Kira were unbending and we have no choice but to stay put.

      However, the sisters come back when the carols and bonfire-dancing give way, with the last glimpse of twilight, to the traditional worshipping of Veles, the God of Earth and Water and Livestock, when villagers ask for good harvest and healthy cattle. This is no place for Maras, so the sisters head back to the temple for a bit of rest. The temple keepers are busy catering to the sisters and Anna and I have a little time when we aren’t supervised, so she talks me into having a walk beyond the temple.

      “Come on, Agatha! There’s a lake over there and its banks should be covered with cranberries. If we gather enough, we can even ask someone in the kitchen to make your favorite cranberry juice!” Anna is struggling to get back on her feet, still half-buried in snow. She is trying to get the snow out of her hair, but some of the strands are already wet.

      “We mustn’t go so far, silly.” I come up to her and put her hair up so that it doesn’t cool down her neck and put her hood up, afraid she could catch a chill. “It’s after dark already. If someone notices that we are gone, we’ll be in trouble. Do you feel like dusting all the library shelves again?”

      I grin as she wrinkles her pretty nose, cleaning is not something she enjoys. Irina tries to straighten her out by punishing her mischief with chores, but so far to no avail.

      “It’s not far! I just want to show you something.”

      She looks up at me with anticipation, fidgeting with impatience and the same time, I take my eyes off the blueness of her gaze and turn to the temple again. It towers over us, its grey walls almost black against the white woods. Only a few windows are alive with the orange light of the candles. Everyone else is already asleep in their beds.

      I look beyond the temple, at the dark sky, and try to come up with an excuse. I want to say it’s too dark to go, but the moon is bright and the snow reflects its light, painting everything silver.

      “Okay,” I yield. “Let’s go. But make it quick.”

      Anna gives a skip of joy and sets off to the northeast, to the border of Serat. Her legs sink in snow with every step but she doggedly trudges on. I’m taller than her, so I move faster and I catch up with her in no time. I smile at her and take her mittened left hand in my bare right one.

      We know the land surrounding the temple pretty well because we are not allowed to venture much further yet, so we’ve spent our time exploring all the paths in the vicinity. Now, even with the earth blanketed in snow, it’s easy to find our way. We’ve been walking for no more than ten minutes but Anna is breathing heavily. She puffs and pants, doing her best to show how exhausted she is. I know what she’s after, so I let her climb on my back and carry her for a few minutes. It seems to cheer her up, she’s riding piggy-back, happily swinging her legs and clasping my neck so tightly my hood falls back revealing my mane of dark hair. The crisp air touches the scruff of my neck but my little sister is rubbing her cheek against mine, so I forgive her for that, as well as her whining.

      Now all I can hear is my own heavy breath and the crunching sound of the snow under my boots. There’s also an occasional hoot carrying from the thick of the woods, adding more magic to the night.

      When we reach the lake, I put Anna down and we both sigh in awe as we take in the view before us. We’ve seen the lake in daylight, but never at night. The frozen lake stretches out in front of us and the bright disc of the moon is reflected in it like in a mirror. The cracks in the ice look like white and blue veins.

      But with a happy cry of “Cranberries!” Anna breaks my reverie.

      I obediently follow her in the direction of the berries. The sooner we gather them and return to our warm beds, the better. The night is beautiful but freezing. My toes are already numb with cold.

      I spot the blood-red berries in the snow and can almost feel their taste on my tongue. If we gather enough, we can make not only juice but also sugared cranberries and maybe even a cranberry pie.

      “Agatha,” Anna says in a dreamy voice, “what’s a morok?”

      I wheel around and look at her in bewilderment. I’ve no idea where she has heard the name from. I was told about Moroks only in my second year as a Mara.

      “They are Shadow’s servants,” I answer cautiously.

      “And what’s a shadow?”

      “The Shadow is the place where the most rotten souls go, but it is also the darkness that rules that place.” I check if the berries are hard enough. But they are already frozen, so they shouldn’t mess the inside of our pockets. We have no baskets with us.

      “Where did the Shadow come from?”

      I pluck a handful of cranberries and toss them into the pockets of my cloak, taking my time to ponder the answer.

      “There are a few legends, and only those who have already moved on and met the Goddess know which one is true.” I finally say, evasively.

      “Come on, Agatha, tell me at least one!”

      “And then you’ll be too frightened to sleep and will recoil from every shadow on the wall,” I snort, watching her shaking the snow off a fir branch to shower herself in snowflakes.

      Anna keeps pestering me for a few more minutes and I cave in.

      “Okay, there are various legends out there. But most of them are incomplete. One says that Morana’s own shadow rose after it was stepped on by the dead. The most popular legend though is the one where Morana grabbed her own shadow and cut it off to help her deal with rotten souls: those of the greedy and selfish and other evil. And the Shadow has been following our Goddess ever since, separate but forever connected to Morana.”

      Somewhere СКАЧАТЬ