Moon Daughter Rising: Moon Daughter Series, #1

By E.G. Moore

Annalee's dad went missing and no one is doing anything about it.

The police say he abandoned her, but Annalee knows better. Her aunt and uncle make her promise not to look for him, especially in the woods behind their family cabin for fear she'll go missing, too.

When she finds her father's trail, she breaks a promise and tells a lie, hoping she can save him. Doing so attracts Winpa the abominable ice witch, who chases Annalee into their tribe's spirit world. Though she doesn't know it yet, Annalee holds the third Wonderstone, the only possession her father left behind. The crescent-shaped talisman could give Winpa control over World Above the Sky and the ability to open the ancient ways to the Earth.

Annalee must seek help from an ancient grandmother and her spirit guides to grapple with her newfound ancestry and rescue her father and a grandfather she's never known from their icy prison. Her journey will require courage, honesty, and mastering the power of the Moon Daughter rising within.

A beautiful weaving of fiction, MicMac tribe legends, and a subtle reminder about the importance of honesty.

 

Grab your copy today!

 

For more information about the author E.G. Moore or her books, visit: egmooreauthor.com

 

This is the second edition of this unique fable.

• Language: English
• Publisher: E.G. Moore
• Release date: Aug 4, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201677121

E.G. Moore

E.G. Moore is an award-winning poet and children's book author, as well as a freelance writer and editor. Her debut novel Rowdy Days of Dom Sanders was released in 2018. Several of her fiction and poetry pieces have been featured in anthologies.When she's not telling "mommy made stories" she can be found off-roading on her ATV, baking something scrumptious, or on a long, plot-refreshing hike. She lives with her husband, two daughters, a son, three dogs, two cats, and a coop of chickens in North Idaho. E.G. Moore tweets and follows hashtags on Twitter, hangs out in writer groups on Facebook and Goodreads, makes funny author videos on Tiktok, creates puzzle grids on Instagram, and blogs at her website www.egmooreauthor.com

Book preview

Chapter 1

The ramshackle trailer Annalee shared with her dad shuddered against the desert wind. She shivered and continued to stir a thin soup with a cracked plastic spoon. She shook some salt into it, wishing for something else to add flavor. Maybe her dad would come home tonight with news of another job, or at least a wad of bills, so they could get something else to eat tomorrow. She was sick of potatoes and would do just about anything for a Coke.

She swallowed against her parched throat and brought a slurp of soup to her mouth. It wasn't bad despite the few ingredients. She'd tossed in a handful of scraggly wild carrots she'd plucked from the desert floor during one of her and her dad’s searches for spirit guides. Their code for long hikes, though Annalee had occasionally sworn she’d seen a glowing creature fly or crawl across the desert landscape. She’d often seen it in her dreams, as though her mind loved climbing so much it refused to leave the trail and her experience behind. Annalee smiled at the most recent outing, remembering the encounter with a very startled roadrunner.

Some old onion slivers also floated in the soup, made plump again from the broth, the last of the scant produce given weekly at the community center. She sighed at the thought of her dad shoving the food stamp letter from her school in the trash. Sometimes she wished he’d consider the help so they’d have more to eat than this.

Annalee turned off the burner on the camp stove and slipped a dented lid on top to hold in the heat until her dad arrived.

A buzz in her pocket made her grin. Aunt Tralina's Saturday call. Annalee leaned against the counter and flipped the old cell open.

Hey, kiddo, how's it going? came her aunt’s familiar greeting.

Okay, I guess. Annalee's chest tightened, and she fiddled with the end of her long, dark ponytail. She hated avoiding the truth, but she didn't want her aunt to worry.

Have a good week?

Uh-huh.

Hey, Annalee, Uncle Martin said in the background.

Is that a good ‘uh-huh’ or a bad one? Aunt Tralina asked.

Just indifferent. Annalee searched frantically for something else to talk about.

Well, I hope you have a great weekend, at least. Planning any fun hiking spots?

Annalee straightened. Yeah, Dad mentioned driving out to Hoop Rock for another shoot. Something about bird migrations. I love looking at the rock layers.

She glanced up at the squeak of the aluminum door. Her dad stooped into the trailer, walked over to kiss her forehead, and lifted the pot lid for a sniff. The smell of wood and dust followed him. He grinned at her and mouthed, Is that your aunt?

Annalee nodded.

Dad just walked in. You want to chat with him?

Sure.

Her dad took the cell phone, covered the receiver, and said, There are a few things in the truck. Can you go out and get them?

Annalee nodded again and rushed out the door, hesitating too late to stop it from slamming. She rounded the rusty hood of their old clunker and spied a bunch of brown bags in the front seat. She opened the truck with a creak and gathered them into her arms. The white medicine wheel dangled from the rearview mirror; the one her dad said she’d need someday.

Her dad's voice floated out to her as she approached the trailer.

No, it's different this time. His voice churned with emotion. I think we need to come back. There's plenty of room in Granddad's cabin. He paused. She doesn’t need to know everything. She’ll be fine with it. The crunch of the vinyl dining bench indicated that he had flopped down on it.

What did he mean, go back? He'd sworn never to go back to Maine. She couldn’t work out if it’d been their tribe’s loose existence or his past that made him allergic to that place. How should she take this? She shivered, making the bags in her arms rattle. If he'd been able to get groceries, he must have found work. Why leave now?

Looking for this? She snapped her attention to the door where her dad hung off the frame. He held out a bottle of Coke, and she allowed a grin to flicker on her face. His lopsided grin dissolved with hers. What's the matter?

We're going to Maine?

You heard that, huh?

Annalee nodded and pushed past him. She crowded the bags on the counter, careful not to get too close to the camp stove where dinner simmered. Then she swiveled to face him and took the Coke he offered as he melted from the dark into the kitchen. The bottle hissed as she twisted off the cap. A little sip turned into a couple of satisfying gulps. She should make it last as long as possible. She replaced the cap and stuck it in the fridge.

Why Maine? She demanded, then softened her voice. We don't have much in Arizona, but it's our home.

There are—things—you don't need to worry about. I'm not finding work, and you hate school here. I’m sure I could find something to do up there, something worthwhile. A purpose. At least if we were up there, you could be with your aunt and uncle, make some friends. It could be a start over for us.

When he put it like that, it made sense. Still, he was acting strange. Stranger than usual. And what couldn't he tell her? She grasped at staying in Arizona.

If you didn't find work here, how'd we get groceries?

They just appeared, he said, humor radiating from his eyes. Annalee giggled. He always said things magically showed up when they needed them. It seemed they did.

Her dad let out a lippy sigh like a horse, covering it up with his hands. Your aunt and uncle are sending us enough cash to gas up and get there. It will be a long week. Let’s enjoy our last weekend here, okay? How about another spirit guide search?

Yeah, I’d like to get some pictures, go hiking one more time, she said, turning to stir the soup. Her dad’s arm wrapped around her shoulders, and she battled the urge to shrug it off.

Thank you for being understanding, he said. I need to take care of us—you—whatever it takes.

Later that night, the bedtime song Annalee’s dad often sang to her came to mind. She murmured it to herself as she stared through her grimy bedroom window at the moon like she did most nights:

Feel your way when you can’t see. Wizz, bizz, buzzle, dee.

Don’t follow strangers, leave them be. Wizz, bizz, buzzle, dee.

Keep each promise intentionally. Wizz, bizz, buzzle, dee,

But most of ALL, always tell things truthfully.

The details of the man in the moon seemed faded and melancholy, and off in the distance, a chorus of coyotes mourned for the sun.

Chapter 2

Annalee wanted to go swimming. A long week of traveling with no A.C. and the sound of the road in her ears made her grateful when they sped past a big, blue sign that read: Presque Isle Welcomes You! Their truck bustled with the traffic, and they crossed a small river that winked in the afternoon sun. Annalee took it all in; the area where her parents grew up. She scowled at the unwelcome thought of her mom and refocused on her new home.

I’m going to stop at the tribe office and get an open position list. Annalee’s dad frowned. At least he was being proactive in the job department. You can come in, too, if you want.

They pulled into the building, a sign declaring itself the Micmaq Tribal Community Center. Annalee’s dad checked that his camera was still snug in its hiding spot, tucked under the truck seat, then climbed out. They clambered into the office, and her dad moved to a desk to ask a manicured lady for some paperwork. Annalee glanced around the room, admiring glass-encased crumbling beadwork and woven baskets. Books lined one wall in short, stout displays. Some focused on tribal traditions and legends, while others boasted of more modern feats.

Annalee picked one full of stories and flipped through the pages. A page opened with a woman stepping through a spider web toward a hieroglyphic eye. The woman’s dress moved behind her like a ghostly wind. The heading said, Dream Walker. Annalee kept flipping pages. Another picture caught her eye, a blue giant carrying a basket on its back. The basket held a person with their mouth open in a silent scream. The giant’s cracked heart showed through its clothes, its eyes lifeless and hard.

Hello, there.

She jerked out of her reading and faced a tall, older man in a polo shirt. His wrinkled, pale hand grasped a shining cane, holding him up at an odd angle. Pockmarked, reddened birthmarks covered most of his face like craters, and Annalee tried not to stare but didn’t know where else to look.

Hi, she responded, voice shaky.

His eyes darted to the book page she’d been examining, and he chuckled. Brushing up on bedtime stories?

She snapped the book closed and placed it back on the shelf. No.

Oh, better be careful to not tell a lie, or else the Chenoo will get you.

She snorted, but her chest tightened. Was that the creature in the book?

Excuse me, her dad ambled into the conversation.

The stranger turned and smiled. Annalee’s dad stiffened beside her, and he squinted as though puzzling out a problem. At least she wasn’t the only one who blanched at the birthmarks. She leaned into him until her shoulder touched his arm, her heartbeat slowing.

"No. I was speaking to my—your charming daughter. My apologies." The old man took a last look at both of them, limped down a dim hall, and disappeared behind an office door.

You alright? her dad asked. Annalee nodded. Okay, good. I’ve got one more stop to make. He trailed the stranger along the same hallway, glancing at each door and a paper in his hand as though looking for a number. Annalee followed close beside him. As they passed the spot the stranger had disappeared at, Annalee peeked into the door window to catch a glimpse of him. The office was empty.

Later on, their truck bumped and jutted along a dirt driveway. Annalee’s early childhood memories of Maine completely mismatched what she saw when they arrived. Massive walls of green led the way, steering them out to her dad’s family property. She envisioned a rustic lodge, majestic and proud. The reality surprised her as they rounded a corner, reminding her of the dwarf’s house Snow White stumbled upon. Squat and tucked into the forest like another evergreen, the cabin was half-covered in gray moss. The windows in the second story downplayed the large square eyes of the first. A soggy porch hooded them. Annalee wondered if she’d fall through when she climbed the steps.

Just beyond the cabin, a structure the size of a small tent sat covered in tarps and dust. The only thing about the scene that emulated warmth was the yellow light glowing from the bottom floor windows of the house. Annalee gaped at her new home.

The black SUV sitting out front must be Aunt Tralina’s and Uncle Martin’s, and she sat up in anticipation of seeing them again. Their truck huffed to a stop, and Annalee leaped out the door. A man and woman moved out of the house and down the steps to meet her. Professional clothes contrasted with bare feet and the casual stroll of the woman who moved down the steps. The man held back, but his smile made Annalee instantly like him. Annalee stopped short of them both, knowing they were her aunt and uncle but suddenly unsure of how to greet them. They reacted the same way, as though giving her space to decide. She’d only ever spoke with them on the phone in the last seven years, or so her dad had told her on the way up.

Hey kiddo, how's it going? her aunt asked.

Those familiar words warmed Annalee like a fire. She dashed forward for a hug and found herself wrapped up in both their arms. Uncle Martin’s deep snickers rang out. Annalee’s dad joined their huddle, his camera bag bumping Annalee’s side, and soon all their laughter filled the sky like music.

Later that night, Aunt Tralina settled Annalee into her new room, a comfy spot in the loft of the cabin. She brushed out Annalee’s long, black hair.

We’re so happy you’re here, Aunt Tralina said, tugging a tangle out from behind Annalee’s ear. Family needs to stick together.

Annalee nodded. Yes, I’ve been asking the spirit guides to help Dad find work, to make school easier, to watch over us.

They must have heard. I’m glad your dad continued that tradition and told you about them. Your mom might not have. Aunt Tralina stood and kissed Annalee’s forehead the way she’d imagined her mom would. She forced the thought away and focused on Aunt Tralina as she turned off the lamp and moved downstairs.

Annalee peeked out the round window and through the closest boughs, noting, as she had their entire trip, that the moon seemed blank and sad.