She was born under a full moon. It rose silver over the bright silver sea, but by the time it looked down on her where she lay beneath the hill, it had turned gold, the way a summer moon does; the way the eye of a good king does, looking upon his people. And the tug of the moon touched her heart, and drew her just a little out of the world.
Books would say her star sign was Capricorn, but no one born under such a moon could be troubled by the far, far stars. Those same books would say her moon sign was Cancer, a water sign, but again they'd be wrong. She had nothing of the sea in her. She had been delivered into hill shadow and blessed by old sky gold. Sheep had sung outside her first bedroom window. Old witch trees had danced for the summer sky king. She was blessed by things that could not be charted or ascribed to everyone born that night. Some may have heard the sea as they slept this side of their mother's heartbeat. Some may have arrived closer to the dawn. Let them then be Capricorn with a side offering of Cancer. She was the king's shadow-hearted girl.
All her life she lived just one degree out of rhythm with other people - the ones born under smaller moons. And all her life she felt like something dark danced inside her, moved by an old wind, led by an earthy, halting song. She had a moon in her mind and hill secrets in her bones.
I talk lightly about astrology sometimes, claiming the traits of my sign and feeling just a little proud to be one of six women in my family (four generations) to be born under it. But in truth I believe our natal influences are more intimate, individual, than star signs devised by men so long ago. If this story resonates with you, perhaps you might look into where you were born, and what was in the nearby sky, to create a private natal blessing of your own.