《Thorned Moon》

**Chapter 6: The Earthbound Witch**

Elowen could barely suppress her disgust at the syrupy, faux-gentle voice that seeped through the wine barrel. No matter how softly Oya spoke, the malice curled under every word made her scalp prickle.

"I don't even know where I am," Elowen snapped back, her fingers frantically feeling along the inner walls of the barrel, desperate for a crack, a splinter—anything she could use as a weapon. "How am I supposed to feel safe?"

"Forgive me," Oya murmured, the very picture of shameless hypocrisy. "We are merely moving away from the Moon Goddess's holy lands. Traveling west with a merchant caravan accompanied by Kaowalsen hounds, whose noses can sniff out a werewolf from a mile away. There is nothing here that can harm you, child."

The barrel rattled slightly as the wagon hit a rut, but Oya’s voice continued, silky and poisonous.

"Elowen, what are you thinking about?"

"I'm wondering why the Moon Goddess doesn't just smite a heretic like you with a bolt of lightning," Elowen replied icily.

Oya chuckled without offense, her pious tones thick with mockery. "Indeed, I have transgressed against our goddess. When the time comes, I shall present myself before the Moon Goddess, the Spring Waters, and the Forest Goddess for judgment."

Elowen’s nails dug into the wood. Three goddesses. Three divine jurisdictions. Oya was reminding her that even the Moon Goddess needed the consent of her sister deities to punish one of their chosen. Against that divine bureaucracy, a single apprentice witch's rage was as useless as screaming into the wind.

The barrel’s cramped darkness tightened around her like a noose.

"Truthfully," Oya mused, "Lady Amber was the real obstacle. She tried to hide you away all these years. We sent envoys, envoys like Perrin, to coax her, but even Perrin failed. And so, in the end, it fell to me to intervene."

"By kidnapping me?" Elowen spat.

"Would you have come willingly, child?"

Elowen ground her teeth. She scratched deeper at the barrel wall, imagining Oya's smug face under her nails.

"You are… special, Elowen."

"My name," Elowen hissed, "was given by my Lady Amber. You have no right to use it."

"Such fierce loyalty," Oya said with cloying admiration. "But you must understand—you were born of an ancient bloodline. I tasted it in the ritual wine—salt, citrus, the tang of ocean spray and the earthy sweetness of plums. Your blood is rich with the magic of the East."

Elowen rolled her eyes so hard it hurt. Here we go. The lunacy about “ancient bloodlines” again.

"You belong not to the forests of Miller’s Valley," Oya continued dreamily, "but to the land itself. You are the daughter of the Earth."

"Daughter of the Earth, huh?" Elowen muttered. "So when exactly did the Earth start stuffing its kids into wine barrels?"

"You misunderstand," Oya said with a chuckle. "You crave belonging, do you not? You gaze at the sea witches with longing. You seek your origins. Only at the Green River—under the triple blessing of the Earth Goddesses—can you find your true home."

Elowen didn't reply. She was too busy trying not to vomit from a combination of rage, dizziness, and the sickly sweet scent inside the barrel.

"You must understand," Oya went on, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "The werewolves are nearly extinct. The hunt is a tradition, a relic. It is humans—the Church—who push into our forests now, not beasts."

Elowen froze.

"The last werewolf prince was slain ten years ago," Oya said, savoring the words. "Amber’s glorious hunts are a farce. She fights a war already lost."

Elowen's nails tore a deep groove into the wood.

"But," Oya added, her voice smooth as polished silver, "at the Green River, you can live without fear. No more desperate battles. No more running. Only endless fields of golden grain, sweet rivers of honey and milk."

Oya's footsteps retreated, leaving Elowen alone in the dark.

Alone… except for the frantic tapping against the barrel.

"Wu Jing!" Elowen gasped, recognizing the pattern of her white goose’s desperate pecking.

Hope surged through her veins. She fumbled for the breathing hole and pressed her lips against it.

"Fly, Wu Jing! Find a way!"

The wagon jolted violently. Elowen’s stomach lurched. A moment later, the barrel rolled sharply to one side and—

Crack!

The world tipped. The barrel tumbled off the cart, smashing through brittle branches. Elowen bit her tongue to stop from screaming.

She spun, she crashed, she rolled until finally—

Silence.

The barrel came to rest amid a broken snarl of branches, perched precariously above a steep incline. One wrong move and she’d plummet into the forest below.

Wu Jing's shrill honking echoed through the trees.

Elowen pressed her ear to the hole. The scent of damp earth and crushed grass filled her nose.

Alive. She was alive.

"Good girl, Wu Jing," she whispered.

Summoning all her strength, she braced her feet against the barrel’s walls and shoved.

The lid creaked but held firm.

Sweat poured down her temples. Her fingers slipped. She gritted her teeth and tried again.

Creeeeaaak.

With a final heave, the lid burst open, showering splinters. Fresh, sharp air flooded in, blinding her with its brightness.

Wu Jing flapped excitedly, her wings knocking into Elowen's shoulder.

Elowen stumbled out of the barrel, kissed her familiar's feathery forehead, and looked around.

They were still halfway up the mountainside, surrounded by jagged rocks and twisted trees.

"Thank the gods," Elowen panted. "Now let's get out of here."

She staggered to her feet, cradling the battered silver cup still dangling from her belt.

Behind her, the broken barrel rocked once—then tumbled down the slope, smashing into splinters at the bottom.

She would have gone with it if not for Wu Jing’s timely peck at her ankle.

"Alright, you little hero," Elowen said, grinning through her exhaustion. "Let's find a way home."

Even if the whole world hunted her, even if the Moon Goddess herself turned her face away, Elowen swore she would never bow her head to anyone who dared to call her prey.