Page 7 of Carnal Magic
I could feel it all around me, flowing over my skin.
A personal, magical experience. A sense of knowing. Of belonging. Of power.Mypower.
Finally.
I’d climb that mountain and see if I could find the spring in the daylight. Convince myself that I wasn’t crazy. I needed to call Keneesha, so she could hire someone to help in the shop.
I wasn’t ready to say that I was going to stay indefinitely, but if being here on the land was the secret to me finally feeling magic, then I wasn’t going back to New Orleans anytime soon.
5
Trees whispered in the gentle breeze as I walked along the dirt path. The ground was too hard to see if I'd left footprints last night. The sun had warmed the day to that wonderful golden tone of summer fading into autumn. Leaves were already shifting into full glory, bright oranges and yellow, punctuated by red sumac. It was the kind of day where you'd take off the sweater because you got too warm, and then throw on a hoodie and wrap up in a blanket around an evening bonfire. Frost on the grass. Pumpkins...
I stopped dead in the path, my heart racing. I'd grown up in New Orleans. Steamy humid summers and wet winters. Not crisp frosty evenings. I'd never sat by a fire outside in a blanket.
Yet those sensations flickered through me like memories. Fond memories of other bonfire gatherings. I could smell the smoke and taste the hot chocolate.
A memory from Great Grandma Martha, or other Redwine women? Or maybe something this place wanted me to do? Either way, it was pretty freaky. I didn't like the idea of memories being inserted into my head.
The same way I knew this path, even though I'd never been here before. The dream last night didn't count.
I started walking again, determined to find the spring. Scanning both sides of the path, I looked for anything I might have left behind. A strand of hair. Blood. A footprint. Anything physical that would help me understand whether I'd truly been dreaming, or if I'd gone on a sleepwalking streak through the woods.
Beneath my leggings, my knees stung a little as the fabric stretched over the scratches. A reminder that even if it had been a dream, it certainly had left its mark on my body. That wasn't normal.
The path narrowed as the incline steepened. Roots and rocks made me focus on each step. Trees loomed over the trail, blocking most of the sunlight, though it was warm enough that sweat beaded on my forehead. Bushes and brambles snagged at my legs, and I had to duck under a few ambitious branches that arched over the faint path.
Finally, I stepped out of the thicker woods. Panting softly, I looked up the jumble of rocks and low bushes ahead. I could barely make out a thin hint of a goat track that wound through the larger rocks. Huffing out a groan, I started the steeper climb, using my hands for balance. I hadn’t brought the right kind of clothes for a mountain trail. My fashionable booties looked great with leggings and a sweater but made the rocky incline treacherous.
"Did I really climb this in the middle of the night?" I mumbled, hefting myself up over a giant shelf of rock. "Naked and barefoot? I think not."
After climbing steadily for another five minutes or so, I had to stop and catch my breath. Hands on my hips, I breathed hard and arched my back, trying to stretch complaining muscles. My calves ached and my back throbbed. I wasn't used to this level of exertion. At all.
Which made me even more credulous. Could I have made this climb in a dream—so real that my body thought I'd actually stumbled through branches?
My breathing steadied as I gazed out over the rolling hills scattered with brightly colored fall foliage. The view up here was incredible. A narrow blacktop road wound like a snake through the hills. On the opposite side of that valley, a white farmhouse framed in trees stood beside a big red barn. Was that the Woodwards’ place, or someone else entirely? I didn't have a good sense of direction or distance to know for sure.
I could barely make out the roof of Martha's cottage. Such a simple, rustic cabin, but it already seemed to call to me, a cozy beacon in the forest. I couldn't wait to get back and take a nice hot bath to soak away the aches from this climb. Maybe some nice candles. Bath salts and bubbles. Oh yeah.
Though I wanted to see if I could find the dream spring first. Grimacing, I turned back to the faint path curling around the side of the rocky hill. A sheer rock shelf jutted up from the hillside like a jagged skyline. Quickening my pace, I hefted up over the last boulder and walked closer to the cliff, looking for the crack that led to the inner pool.
It wasn't here.
Confused, I tipped my head back, staring up at the cliff. The shape was familiar, very much like stacked building outlines against the sky. Maybe I wasn't in the right place...?
I turned around, searching for a different path that might lead to the sheltered alcove, but the ground was too rocky. Sheepishly, I pressed my hands to the rock and gave it a shove. I tried to remember exactly what I’d said in the dream. “I’m Arwena Redwine. I’ve come home.”
A loud caw drew my attention up the steep cliff. A big crow cawed again, sitting on a ledge about ten feet above me. “Are you laughing at me, sir?”
The crow bobbed its head, making me roll my eyes. The crow hopped down a bit closer, letting me admire its glossy black feathers with hints of midnight blue.
Blowing out a sigh, I looked around once more, trying to see anything magical or strange. A hint of a glow. A rune. X marks the spot. I’d have to come back up here again after reading the book to see if any new information had appeared.
Inwardly, I groaned. My thighs quivered at the thought of climbing back up here. Hopefully the trip back down would be easier.
The crow plopped down on the ground beside me, giving me another inquisitive, hopeful look. Maybe Martha had brought treats for the birds.
I started to say, “Next time, I’ll bring treats…”
