The first book Journey, in the series Pull of The Sister Moon, is an epic fantasy of a world split between two Realms, and a young woman placed in the middle of their separation.
Eighteen year old Lyla, has led a sheltered life as a sheep herder in a small mountain village. A summer solstice celebration, two moons rising, the pull of the magical silver light, a friend disappearing, a lamb falling and her journey, begins in another world so unlike her own.
This world was part of the folklore told by the elders at village campfires during the celebrated solstices, of the Wind Folk and their mysterious appearances, and ways. Lyla always felt captured into the world as the stories were told to her growing up and now she is living in the story.
Strangers with musical language, crops of magical trees, and people so unlike her own makes her story unique and compelling in every step of adventure that comes her way.
The first book Journey, in the series Pull of The Sister Moon, is an epic fantasy of a world split between two Realms, and a young woman placed in the middle of their separation.
Eighteen year old Lyla, has led a sheltered life as a sheep herder in a small mountain village. A summer solstice celebration, two moons rising, the pull of the magical silver light, a friend disappearing, a lamb falling and her journey, begins in another world so unlike her own.
This world was part of the folklore told by the elders at village campfires during the celebrated solstices, of the Wind Folk and their mysterious appearances, and ways. Lyla always felt captured into the world as the stories were told to her growing up and now she is living in the story.
Strangers with musical language, crops of magical trees, and people so unlike her own makes her story unique and compelling in every step of adventure that comes her way.
Grand Eve
Lyla’s sixteen years of existence have been solemn and uneventful. She lives in the mountain village of Wind Wood, nestled in the shade of the east side of Centuror Mountain. It’s a bustling community full of hard-working people and growing families. Lyla's family, the Griffins, have lived in Wind Wood for the past thirty years. Her many relatives and friends are always in abundance when needed, with their simple pure advice, and love.
Every morning for the past ten summers, Lyla has trekked the mountain path with her family’s sheep herd. The sky above is vivid purple on this brilliant June morning, the first day of Summer Solstice. After the long trek up, the morning rays cover her with warmth as she stretches on the dew-soaked grass. While the sheep grazes, she dozes, listening to the birds singing their wake-up harmonies.
The bleating of the herd awakens Lyla from her slumber; she sits up, stretches, and gazes out over the mountain. The air makes her feel lighter and somewhat freer. There has always been a lonely place in her heart that's unexplained, and now as her eyes wander down to her village and back over the mountain peak, she senses that may change.
She looks at the rugged mountain that sits opposite Centuror Mountain. Many stories are told of the sister mountain. The story-tellers speak of lush dense forests and strange folk. Her older brother David would come home on warm summer evenings over the past few years, and tell her bits and pieces of the stories he had heard around the fire at the village gatherings. Lyla had not been able to attend the gatherings until now, her sixteenth summer when she will attend the Grand Eve of Summer Solstice. Gathering up her goatskin pack, Lyla blows on her windpipe calling the sheep to follow.
A lanky boy, red hair flying around his freckled face is barreling down the mountain behind Lyla shouting her name.
"Thomas Shattuck, why do you shout my name on such a peaceful morning?"
"So sorry, Lyla,” answers the excited boy. "It’s the night of Grand Eve, and there is so much excitement in the air. We get to attend!"
"You foolish boy" exclaims Lyla in a chiding voice. “Of course we get to attend! We are in our sixteenth summer!"
“Why, yes I know Lyla, it’s just…just."
Smiling at him, Lyla interrupts him in a teasing manner, “You are so wound up Thomas! Are you sure your mother counted your summers right?”
“Ah, Lyla...." Thomas sputters, "I'll race you home!" He runs off as Lyla laughs and continues her steady pace into the village.
The village is busy with morning activity. The men work their trade: Fishing, planting, and harvesting grain, sheep shearing, cutting reed, tending cattle, and hunting birds and forest animals. The women keep poultry, pork, goats, sheep, and dairy cows. They also garden, make reed cloth, preserve, and cook the food.
The smells of fresh loaves of bread, roasted meat, and many other flavorful aromas, make Lyla's stomach turn with hunger. Lyla herds her sheep into their pen and walks over to the small stone cottage adjacent to it, she glances toward the village seeing smoke funneling from the large brick ovens making the sky look like someone painted it with rain clouds.
Lyla’s mother, large with child, stands at the stone fireplace stirring something in a cast-iron pot. The smells from the pot are thick with herbs and meats, and Lyla’s stomach grumbles in anticipation.
Acknowledging Lyla with a smile her mother says kindly," I see you are hungry, my daughter. Go wash and come back to the table.”
Oat bread and steaming, thick, crisp bacon adorn the square wooden table in the middle of the small kitchen. Lyla's mother always sets out this wonderful food for her, knowing she would be hungry after her trek up the mountain.
“What’s in the pot, Mother?" Lyla asks as she heads for the small bathing room.
"Beef barley stew, for the feast tonight. Hurry and wash, we have lots to do and your food is cooling."
Lyla pours cool water from the wood bucket into a clay bowl below. Splashing her warm face, she looks at the glass above and examines her light brown face, thin and chiseled with cheeks blooming from the warm morning air. Her hair is black; “black as the raven’s wing” is what her father always told her. The eyes looking back at her are soft green now, but when excited get deep green with flashes of gold, and when she is sad or melancholy, so pale that they almost look blue. Her mother's friends always comment on her thin willowy frame calling her a" brookweed.”
“A girl so thin will never find a fine lad to wed...." is one of the many comments said when she serves the women cake and tea during the sewing circle twice a month. Her mother would smile at them gently saying, "Give her time to blossom; she's just a little late."
Lyla dries her face on the soft cloth hanging on the cabinet hook and looks back into the glass. Her mother’s pretty, worn face smiles at her, "Lyla, this eve you will wear your hair atop your head. It falls so far down your back, a twist will not do."
Sweeping Lyla's hair into her hands, her mother braids it and wraps it around the top of Lyla's head. She pulls out a wooden comb etched with small intricate designs along the edge from her apron pocket and places it in Lyla's hair.
"This is how a young woman in her sixteenth year should look.” Her mother turns Lyla towards her and gives her a gentle hug. “Come eat your breakfast we must get busy."
“Yes, Mother," Lyla says as she grimaces at the strange reflection in the glass.
The moon was never so big and vivid, as it is the night of Grand Eve. Silver rays dance in the dark creek water that leads toward the village center as Lyla and her family walk alongside it. They carry pots and dishes wrapped in warming cloth so that the food they cooked all day will be fresh and hot for the feast. Lyla’s basket holds six loaves of warm oat bread and two pots of freshly made goat cheese. Her brother, David, carries the heaviest load; his stocky frame holds a huge clay pot cradling a large rump roast from a cow his father had butchered and smoked for the feast. Lyla's father Peter, tall, strong, and of slim build, follows his son toting the large pot of beef barley stew.
Her mother follows slowly, carrying a woven basket that holds the family cloth used to sit on during special times. Made from fine dyed yarn with deep reds and blues, this beautiful cloth is always kept in her mother’s carved chest. It is over 100 years old and very sacred to her mother.
Lyla follows her mother, watching her enjoy the warm summer breeze, glad that she has a moment of ease along the singing brook. Lyla thinks about what it means to be part of this celebration, becoming a woman, what changes may lay ahead for her. She shakes her head from her wanderings, smiles at her mother patting her coming sibling, reaches over for her hand and they walk happily together into the village center.
A large fire blazed in the middle of a grassy center. Around the fire, the villagers place their sitting cloths to face Centuror Mountain. The women sing the feast song as they prepare the tables. The Griffin family receives many warm greetings and helps with their aromatic loads. Lyla sets the bread and cheese down on a table that holds many other flavorful items to water the taste buds. She grabs a warm piece of bread and wanders away from the activity. She stands at the edge of the forest and gazes at the moon that hovers over the mountain peaks. Behind the silver moon floats a smaller, dimmer, golden-orange ball.
“It’s the sister moon,” exclaims Lyla to herself; “I have never seen it so clear, and the color so brilliant!”
“Lyla, come and help", she hears her mother call out, "The feast will begin soon!" Lyla slowly turns back to the center after another glance at the two moons.
The women are busy setting out all the various pots and dishes of food. Lyla uncovers and places on the long wood table; yams that had been canned the fall before with sweet-smelling spice, dilled cabbage, roasted new potatoes, spring greens of all colors and textures, pickles of all varieties, and pots of baked beans steaming of brown sugar and honey. The men set up the table with large platters full of pork, beef, and lamb. Fresh hens stuffed with new herbs and wild onions sit ready for eager appetites. Baby squab soaked with brandy and stuffed with dried apples from the fall before gives a pleasing smell and flavor to the simpler fare. Large whole cooked fish simmer on open pits with layers of fresh herbs sending smells of the ocean and earth combined. The dessert table is laden with pies filled with all the fresh berries and fruit of the season; cherries, plums, and peaches. Bowls of fresh cream sit alongside the hot pies. When the tables are completed, the families congregate around the centerfire holding hands to give the blessing for their wonderful feast.
Lyla eats sparingly, her stomach knotted with excitement with the night and the strange sense in the air as the sky gets darker. Looking around the circle at the families laughing and talking with one another, she hears a vibrant laugh, and her eyes seek out her friend Shana. Shana’s red-gold hair flashes in the firelight, the tendrils of curls falling from the "proper twist" atop her head. Her eyes, light blue, sparkle when she laughs making her very pleasing to watch. David sits to one side of her and his best friend, Patrick on the other. Both vie for this young woman's attention and Shana is very pleased to give it to them. David and Patrick are like two peas in a pod. You would never see one without the other. Patrick is dark and blue-eyed, tall and lanky with a quick smile. David is the opposite; redheaded, dark-eyed, short and stocky and always in meditative thought. Patrick had told David that he 'noticed' Shana this past fall and had felt like he may have to think about courtship. Lyla took note of her brother's voice when he talked of Patrick and Shana, and wondered if he had taken “notice “of Shana too.
The Shattuck family sits across from her. Thomas's older sister Kate is sitting next to him. Kate had been attending Grand Eve for three summers now. She is a sweet, gentle young woman with brown hair and light eyes. Comments that are made of her at the sewing circle, are of concern and affection. The women talk of her "plainness’, saying she might have to settle down with a nice solid widowed man since she is getting older.
Lyla never liked hearing all the ‘concerned comments’ of the sewing circle. She sees something fine and comforting in Kate. She watches Kate watching David as he talks and laughs with Shana and his friends. Lyla understood the look Kate befell on David is a look of wanting, her face softening, her eyes sparkling as she listens to him. David, her foolish brother, looked at Kate as another sister, always mentioning she was so quiet and plain. He, of course, always went to Kate for help with his studies and Kate was always eager in helping him. Lyla hoped that soon her brother would grow up and see that what is important is right in front of his eyes.
Thomas waves at her through the firelight. She waves back and smiles at her friend. He has always been at her elbow from the first day they started school together and she never seems to get rid of him. She is fond of him and knows she can always count on him for anything.
Lyla senses someone watching her and looks across the firelight. Conall Leeway sits opposite her in the circle. His shining eyes avert as she meets them. He again looks back at her and the fire dances in his eyes as if in a mirror reflection because they are so clear blue. His golden hair waves down his shoulders, his skin fair and glossy, glows in the firelight. Conall came with his family from across the ocean to Wind Wood as a young teen and is now in his twentieth year. The Leeway family came to farm on this little mountainous island and was settling in quite well in the community. His parents are dark and nondescript compared to Conall. He has a presence about him that makes people shy away from him when he is near. Lyla had never spent time with him because of the age difference and he mainly stayed close to his home or helped his father with their small farm. Occasionally, Lyla would see him walking up the mountain during dusk and curious why he would trek the mountain so late.
Lyla's mother stands up placing her hand on Lyla's arm, “Come, Lyla, your mind is full, but your hands empty.”
Lyla helps the women gather up the bowls and dishes, empty from the villager’s good appetite. The women join their families after pouring cider into everyone’s goblet. The circle quiets. Lyla’s father sets a wooden stool in the middle of the circle and stokes the fire so the blaze brightens the sky. From the edge of the circle walks the town’s eldest, Torsten Krogh. He sits upon the stool, lights his pipe from the blaze of the fire, and points to the Western sky. There is a hush of wonderment as they all look to where his hand beckons. The sky is brilliant with the sister moon, a moon so orange that it looks on fire. This amazing wonder only happens on the night of Grand Eve and the celebration of Summer Solstice. The other moon, so silver that it almost blinds one to look at it, is so close to the sister moon that it looks as if it would touch. When they reach the highest point in the sky, at the stroke of midnight, they will for a moment, become one moon and brighten the sky as the sun would.
The old man’s long white hair blankets his shoulders, he taps his pipe against the stones and everyone's attention is with him. He begins his story:
"The legends tell of a time before the two moons, a time when the land was new and the forest full of young seedlings. Our ancestors came and settled on this island full of fertile ground, their new world, with the mountains, and sea surrounding them. There was strange folk that dwelled beyond the mountain before our people landed here. Our ancestors wrote of them in our history and told of them around fires such as this.
They called the strangers ‘Wind Folk’. They spoke of them as not of our world. Their appearance if glimpsed by one so chanced upon them in travel, or a vision, tell the unusual: eyes large and set deep with an upward tilt to them. No one claimed to tell of the color for the closeness would be avoided. The ears are larger than our own and the tip is pointed. Their hair varied in color, deep reds to golden yellows, and most strange, the silver color of our moon. The oddest of all was the voice of the Wind Folk. When heard in the distance or a dream, you would believe that it was the notes of many instruments. Soft, yet deep with an eerie tone that made you want to hear more, but made you shiver from the unknown. They told of the land of which they lived. To get to this land, you would have to cross our mountain and travel seven days. The terrain would be rough and the climb steep. A massive tree would stand before you as if guarding the way against intruders. They tell of this oak, older than time itself, so large that the limbs would cover ten of our homes. The tallest branches stood touching the low clouds in a storm. Beyond this ancient tree was the sister of our mountain. Jagged cliffs covered this mountain and water poured swiftly down the cliffs into a deep swirling lake below. Through the caverns beyond the waterfall, there was the gate to the land of the Wind Folk. They say their dwellings were set in trees and were of stone and bark. Stories told of men that went to seek out the mystery of the Wind Folk, just to see if they could see them, and maybe even to bring them back to our village. The men that ventured on this voyage would be gone for a long time. Some came back and were never quite the same. People say the Wind Folk are now gone. They say the floods twenty-five years back washed their land away and they went back to the world in which they traveled. When the wind is high and the nights are the coldest, people still say they hear singing voices coming from the west. On every Grand Eve, our families have made this welcome circle for any stranger needing a warm fire and warm hearts to soothe them. I have many times felt a pull outside of our circle and the glint of silver in the trees. This is the night that brings out the kinship of all; it is the night to believe."
The quiet is new to Lyla, knowing her family and friends to be merry, noisy, and never without conversation. Lyla's mother takes her hand and tells her quietly to go to the center of the circle. The circle starts filling up with many young people including Thomas and Shana.
Thomas walks over to her and whispers, “Your hair looks very pretty. Are you as nervous as I?”
She looks at her friend and starts to comment back when she hears music flowing from outside of the circle.
A mouth harp and fiddle play slow and softly. Lyla and her friends hold hands and sway with the wistful music. They circle the fire in time with the beat. Other instruments join in the playing, and the people sing a song of beginning, love, and welcome.
The music quickens, as do the steps of the young dancers. Lyla's hair so heavy with tresses falls around her shoulders and sways down her back, the wooden comb fallen.
She lets go of Thomas and Shana’s hands, as she moves with the vibrant music. The blazing fire warming her swaying body, the music leading her to freedom that she has never experienced. As she dances, she draws nearer to the edge of the wood. Others have now joined the dance, the music festive and happy. She is lightheaded, her body fluid in the motion of the music, she turns in sweeping circles, with her hair like black wings behind her.
There is a tugging on her hair and she laughs calling out, "Thomas!"
Someone has gently taken her hand swaying with her, the darkness showing a shadow as it takes her closer to the trees. "Stop playing...."
She turns looking for Thomas and seeing the trees rising above her, she pulls away. Her hand is set free when she stops her dance.
Lyla’s eyes squint in the dark trying to make out who had danced her to the wood, she sees a flash of silver in the corner of her eye and she turns quickly toward it. She looks up through the trees and sees the moons as one, turning brilliant gold as the rays shine down on her.
Turning toward the circle she meets the eyes of Conall. His hair shimmers in the moon's light, his eyes flash clear blue as the moons wash his face. He steps toward her and the wood.
He comes close to Lyla and whispers, “Lyla, did you see something? Did you feel the presence?"
"Yes.....No, I'm not sure... I thought it was Thomas playing,” she answers in puzzlement.
"No, Lyla, Thomas is on the other side of the circle."
She turns to look to see if this was so, and Conall walks away from her and into the woods. The moons begin separating, the light getting dimmer. Lyla stands trembling as she watches him walk toward the darkening forest. “Come, Lyla. Come with me. Let's find out." His hand beckons her towards him, his eyes gleaming in the moonlight.
As she takes a step forward, she hears a voice call out her name.
She turns toward the voice and sees her brother and Thomas looking for her in the dark.
"Coming,” she answers softly as she walks towards them, her head still fuzzy from the excitement, her heart pounding from the strange encounter. As she reaches the edge of the circle, she turns back to the dense wood and quickly glances back at the moonlight dancing through the trees.
"Conall..." she whispers as she turns back to the fire and her family.
Pull of the Sister Moon is the first novel from Lynda DuBois’ new fantasy series which follows protagonist Lyla into a world of magic. The journey where Lyla finds herself pulled into an extraordinary world very different from her own meanders through a plot structure similar to Lewis Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland and C.S. Lewis’ The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. Lyla is guided through her journey at a leisurely pace that allows for a detailed exploration of the story world and as there are so many characters introduced along, the way the more relaxed pace does make an easy task of keeping track of these characters.
Just as the characters are vast and diverse, so too could be readers of this novel. Although Lyla is well into her teenage years, the book is child friendly both in content and in simplicity of language, making it perfect as a nightly bedtime story or a solo adventure for a middle grade reader. However, Pull of the Sister Moon isn’t by any means simple when it comes to DuBois’ writing. The lore surrounding both Lyla’s home world and the new world are exceedingly intricate and may appeal to older readers who are fans of Julie Kagawa’s Iron Few Series and Sarah J. Maas’ A Court of Thorns and Roses.
Naturally, there are some points of the novel that could have used some improvement. The dialogue, for example, can occasionally be void of emotion and is riddled with exposition. It isn’t by any means extreme but as the story often relies on dialogue to drive the adventure it can quickly become a little tedious. The rules of the narrator are also a little ambiguous. The narrator starts off as a distant third person to introduce the characters and the town then focalises on Lyla, this itself is a wonderful piece of writing trickery by DuBois and allows for a gradual but strong reader-character connection. However, later in the novel the narrator jumps back into general third person and Lyla’s position not only as a character but as a protagonist is slightly lost.
Overall, DuBois seems to have a knack for creating vivid imagery that brings not just one by two worlds off the page and into the room. There’s a real sense of serenity in the descriptive passages which brings out a human re-connection with nature, a theme popular in romantic literature. The characters explore life as they explore the new world, taking in new sense and experiences to discover the power and the beauty in the everyday.
Journey the first book of the new Pull of the Sister Moon Series by Lynda DuBois is brilliantly crafted by an author with a passion for sharing worlds and characters. The second addition of the series, which continues with more of Lyla’s adventures, has yet to hit the shelves but it is definitely one to keep a look out for.