Let’s Talk One True Mate (One True Mate Companion, Vol. 1)

Part 1—The Forest

12—Prologue 1 of One True Mate 11

Serenity, Illinois, U.S.A.

11 months ago

The day the demon Khain lured Ella into the Pravus, then Trevor offered himself as trade, and a rescue team went in after them both as seen in One True Mate 1

Part 1—The Forest

The old woman moved alone through the morning-bright forest, her head down and her eyes on the ground. She was a witch and a foxen , and she had important business that day.

She stood just under five feet tall—compact, and slightly stooped, wearing a thick, long, wool dress, a cloak with hood, and lace-up boots. On her shoulders lay an intact mink pelt, fashioned as a stole. In her hand was a twisted walking stick, which she jabbed into the ground every few feet.

Jab. Jab.

“Here,” she said quietly. “The very center of his home is here.”

She walked outward from the spot in a spiral, jabbing as she went, moving around trees and through underbrush.

Jab. Jab jab. Jab.

“The mind-gate will open here.”

Jab. Jab.

“The Fates say the Promised will come through first, then two dirty wolves, then Boe.”

She raised her head and looked up, pointing the walking stick directly north.

“There—that’s the direction he’ll run in.”

The woman reached to her shoulder and grabbed the head of the mink pelt just behind its tiny ears, then she licked the thumb on her other hand and pressed it to the nose of the thing. A crimson puff of smoke rose into the air. The mink shook, then filled with life, its dead eyes brightening, its belly inflating. It stood like a weasel, balancing precariously, then stretched its long back and ran down the woman’s clothes to the ground, where it screeched. At the noise, two mice emerged from the woman’s cloak and scampered to the ground.

She produced a cloth bag from a hidden pocket, and dropped it to the ground. The mink ran to the bag and nosed the top flap open, revealing at least a hundred tiny black balls. The mice and the mink took a ball in their mouth and ran off a little ways. Each animal placed their ball in a different spot: one stuck on the base of a tree, one nestled between the leaves of a small plant, and one pressed into the bark of a fallen log. Once placed, each animal ran back to the bag and took another black ball, repeating the process in an ever-widening spherical pattern.

When the bag was finally empty, the mink grabbed it with sharp teeth and ran up the woman’s clothes, putting the bag in her hand. She stuffed it in an inner pocket.

“Now the escape route,” she said.

The mink squeaked then ran away to the north. The mice followed. The woman followed as well, slowly. After several paces, she turned and surveyed the area. She lifted her walking stick and twirled it once in the air, then threw it to the ground, then took a leather cord with multiple knots tied in it from an inner pocket and held it up by the lowest knot.

“A summer storm, a winter snow. I call winds forth to swirl and blow.”

She shook the cord, then untied the knot. A gentle vortex of swirling wind sprang up from under her feet, then grew in size, picking up tiny leaves and sticks and whirling them around.

After a half-minute, the wind had almost blown itself out. The woman retrieved her walking stick, then followed in the direction the animals had gone. As she walked, she produced more tiny black balls from the folds of her cloak and pressed them at eye-level into the bark of trees she passed, several to each tree, and facing all directions.

She reached a stream and stopped. The mice and the mink were there, waiting for her. She quirked her fingers in a come-here gesture. The mink ran up her clothes and lay down on her shoulders. The mice ran up her clothes and settled into the folds of the cloak. She walked very near a large bush and murmured one word.

“Dim,” she said.

Her form wavered, turning faint and indistinct, until no one would notice that she was there at all.

***

Hours passed. Nighttime came.

An earthquake jolted the ground. Then another.

Somewhere in the distance, an animal howled.

From far away, a strange sound split the night, like a turbulent roar, and then a deep whooshing. The bush lit up with radiant light, revealing the silhouette of the woman inside. She giggled, almost girlishly, and then laughed a deep, womanly laugh. She moved quickly, exiting the bush, looking young and vibrant for a moment. The mink stood on her shoulders, back arched like a cat. It jumped wildly to the ground and ran around in circles, while the mice ran down the woman’s clothes, squeaking madly.

“So much power,” she whispered fiercely.

Something insubstantial—like smoke or haze—streamed to her through the forest from the south. It hit her and flared a dark, bloody crimson, then split and sizzled into airy plumes. The woman spun like a schoolgirl, grabbing the plumes and winding them into rope, funneling the rope into her cloak… until—

She stopped. The streaming smoke hit her in the belly and dispersed. She reached into her cloak and retrieved one of the tiny black balls, which she held to her eye, facing south.

“Here they come,” she said quietly.

She gasped, then said, “Abort the plan, grab him and fall back to the templum —"

She moved to the left quickly, her voice gaining vitriol. “Look away, you nasty wolf,” she said. “You don’t see anything. No concern of yours. No business of yours. Your pack is in trouble, tend to them.”

Her voice quieted. “This way, Boe,” she whispered. “Now left. Yes, around those trees. Faster.”

She muttered and moved around obstacles that weren’t there, her hands still cupped in front of her face.

“Dim. Dim. Dim. Dimmmm ,” she chanted. “That’s right—into the water—just like that—keep coming.”

A wolf howled, long and low. Another answered, then another. The woman flung the ball onto the ground. The mink ran forward and ate it.

She gestured to the south and spoke to the mink. “He’s almost here. Number Six, you’ll have to carry him.”

The mink ran that way, then swiftly grew in size, shifting and changing, until it was an older, naked man with a muscular body, a military haircut, and two black tattoos behind his left ear: one of a mink, and one of a mouse. He was still running, but slower, his bare feet thudding on the ground.

The woman reached into her cloak and came out with a handful of tiny seeds that she tossed at Number Six’s feet.

“Spin and cover, clothe and shroud,” she said.

Dark fabric wound itself around the male’s feet, climbing up his legs, molding itself to his body, until he was dressed in thin, footed coveralls—colored green and black, like the forest.

“Don’t let him see you.”

Number Six slowed and moved stealthily to the south. The woman pulled her walking stick from her cloak and jabbed it into the air. Grey smoke flecked with crimson shot out of her cloak, twisted around her walking stick, then streamed like water around trees and past Number Six.

Something unseen thudded to the ground. Number Six disappeared into the darkness for a moment, and when he reappeared, he carried a small, bedraggled, unconscious male over his shoulders. The male was dressed in a thin t-shirt, ragged pants, and no shoes.

“Got ‘im,” Number Six said.

The woman scowled. “What are we going to do with him now?”