Excerpt

Chapter 15

The sun was a giant orange ball just above the horizon, backlighting the Collier County State Fair banner, as we made our way back to the SUV.  It was time to help set up for the concert.

‘on our way 2 help set up. will be there in 5,’ I texted, using Luke’s phone.  I really needed to get another cell phone, but I hadn’t exactly told Mom and Dad about the old phone yet.  I was sure to hear the ‘We need stock in AT&T’ line, along with the usual various condemnations about being careless.  I’d heard it all before.

‘gr8. is this a hawt dood or bff txt?’ came Taylor’s response.

‘bff,’ I replied.

‘damn, was hoping to glom on 2 hawt dood.’

‘very funny,’ I answered.

When we arrived, she and the band members were waiting.

“You two look like you’ve been having fun,” Taylor said, grinning at me.  She reached around and tugged at a stuffed orangutan riding on my back, its velcroed hands clasped around my neck.  “What’s this? You got a monkey on your back, girlfriend?”

I unhooked his little hands, and held him up for Taylor to see.  “Luke won him for me.  And it’s not a monkey, it’s an orangutan.  Isn’t he cute?”

“Yeah.  Cute.  And he matches your hair color – orangutan red.”

“He does not!  My hair is so not red.  It’s… auburn.”

“Auburn.  Right.”

“Hey, you girls quit monkeying around and let’s get everything unloaded,” Matt said.

I groaned at the pun, but opened up the back of the SUV, tossing the stuffed animal inside.  I grabbed one of the plastic containers marked ‘memorabilia’ and tucked it under one arm, hauling it to the pavilion.

“Red,” Taylor whispered as she passed me, ducking as I took a swipe at her.

While the guys unloaded the equipment, Taylor and I decorated the pavilion, stringing lights and putting up posters.  We set out several baskets of giveaways – glow necklaces, bracelets and sticks with ‘Manifest’ imprinted on them – at the most prominent entrance locations.

Even after everything was set out, Taylor kept going, taking each basket, sorting and resorting the glow sticks and jewelry.  First she sorted by shape, then by color.

“Okay, okay, your organizational skills are powerfully honed, Taylor,” I said, taking the last basket from her.  “What’s going on?  Are you nervous?”

“Omigod, I’m gonna puke,” Taylor said.  Sure enough, her face did look a bit green.

“You’ll be fine,” I assured her, gripping her hand tightly.  “It’ll be just like the benefit you did for the animal shelter, Music for Mutts, remember?  Just… a little bigger, that’s all.  And you look great!”

She did, too.  Her blonde hair, carefully styled in artful disarray, framed her heart-shaped face.  Violet contacts blazed from heavily-kohled eyes, her lips a magenta bow. She dressed casually in jeans and a t-shirt with a zombie slogan imprinted on it.  Knee-length boots completed her wardrobe.

“Come on, Taylor, we’re all set up.  Let’s go over a few things before we start,” Matt said, looking only a little less nervous than Taylor.

“Did you set up all the lights already?”

“Yeah, it’s all done.  Come on.”

I squeezed her hand.  “Break a leg, Taylor,” I whispered to her as she left to join her band.

“Shall we grab a good seat?” Luke asked, coming up to me.

“Yeah, I want front row center.”

“Of course,” Luke said, grinning at me.

I took one more look at Taylor, worried that she might make good on her earlier complaint and actually puke on stage.

“She’ll be fine, Savannah.”

“You’re right.  I know she’ll be okay.  Once she gets on stage, she’ll forget the nervousness.”

We left the stage and sat right in the center of the first long wooden bench, and watched as the crowd slowly assembled.  The giveaways went quickly – the glow bracelets and necklaces first, followed by the sticks.

The last of the daylight slid away.  Strands of tiny white lights, wound around wooden posts and strung across low-hanging eaves, suddenly lit up.  The audience whistled and waved their hands, wrists glowing in a rainbow of fluorescent color.

A pure, sweet voice came from the pitch black stage, A cappella, the lyrics slow and haunting, eerie in the dark.  A pause, then the darkened stage suddenly came to life, blue light flooding the band, a gold spot on Taylor.  The drums began laying down a strong rhythm, followed by hard-edged guitar riffs.  Taylor was all over the stage, voice powerful, overriding the hard music.  There was no trace of the nervous teen-aged girl I’d spoken with earlier.  She was confident, assured.  She was Manifest.

I gripped Luke’s arm.  He grinned down at me, then hugged me and kissed the top of my head.

The next song, a popular cover, showcased Taylor’s powerful voice and vocal range, and was immediately followed by an original song that the drummer, Matt, wrote.

I leaned my head against Luke’s shoulder and sighed, contented.  Perfection.  In the arms of the man I loved while my best friend’s voice flowed around me… yes, utter perfection.

Suddenly, the arm around me went rigid.  I looked up to see Luke sniffing the air.

“Luke?  What’s wrong?” I questioned, but couldn’t even hear my own voice over the music.  I grabbed the arm slung around me and shook it.  “What?” I mouthed.

Luke put his lips to my ear.  “Wolves.  Get to the car, Savannah.”

“What?”  I looked around.  I didn’t see anything, and looked again at Luke.

In the festive, twinkling white lights, I could see his eyes already changing.

He gripped me tightly by the upper arms, turning me to face him.  “Get to the car, Savannah!”  He shouted to be heard over the music.  “Now.  Promise me you’ll go right to the car, lock yourself in and then drive to my house.  I’ll meet you there when it’s over.”  He gave me a little shake.  “Promise!”

I nodded my head and mouthed the word he wanted to hear.  “Promise!”

He leapt up just as I heard the beginnings of screams from the back of the audience.  The rest of the audience turned to see what the commotion was all about.  Four werewolves burst onto the concert-goers, snapping wildly at them while maintaining their forward momentum, aiming straight for us.

The band faltered, the music discordant.  Then nothing.

I jumped up and turned to Taylor, who stood there, motionless, violet eyes wide.  The other band members were nowhere to be seen.  Taylor’s eyes went even wider and I turned back just in time to see Luke transform.

He exploded into panther form, his shredded clothes falling behind as he sprang at the werewolves, taking two of them down with one lunge.  They rolled over and over, coming up growling and snarling.

I didn’t wait to see more.  I had to trust that Luke could handle it.  Had to fulfill my promise to him – I didn’t want him distracted by worrying about me.  I jumped onto the stage and grabbed Taylor’s hand.  She was still motionless, in shock.

Tugging at her was useless.  I got up into her ear and screamed, “Hey!”

She looked at me, face completely white.  “Come on, Taylor.  Now!  You gotta come with me right now.”

That galvanized her into action.  She looked around for her band members and not seeing them, let me tug her off the stage.  Together we wound our way through the frantically milling crowd toward the parking lot.  I held her hand tightly so we wouldn’t get separated.

I saw the SUV.  “Run, Taylor – get in the car!”  I shouted, pointing.  I let go of her hand and we sprinted for the car.  We reached it and I dug frantically in my pocket for the key.  I hit the unlock button and yanked open the driver’s door.

A high, thin scream stopped me from leaping into the driver’s seat.  Taylor stood there by the unopened passenger door, frozen.

Two werewolves stalked her, growling, saliva dripping from exposed, yellow fangs.

I looked around for a weapon, a rock, tree limb, anything.  Wait! I thought, the Dragon Prince!  It should still be in the car.  I reached in, fumbling under the front passenger seat.  Please let it be there, please let it be there, I chanted under my breath.

It was.

I yanked it out and slid it from the scabbard in one smooth, practiced move.  My fingers unerringly found the Bushido code along the blade.  Courage.  I ran around to the passenger side, jumped in front of Taylor just as the first creature leapt for her.

The Dragon Prince met the throat of the werewolf, the Damascus steel blade sliding clear through its neck, beheading it in one clean stroke.

I turned to the other one.  It was more cautious, darting in and out but staying out of reach of the steel blade.

“Omigod, there’s another one, Savannah!  No, two more!”  Taylor screamed from behind me.

“Okay, when I tell you to move, I want you to open the car door, Taylor.  Get in as quickly as you can and lock the door.”

I feinted and as the wolves jumped away, I yelled, “Now!  Now Taylor!”

Taylor opened the door and threw herself in.  I backed away slowly, the Dragon Prince never still, weaving in front of me as I sidled along the back of the SUV and around to the driver’s side.  Two wolves stalked me.  Where was the third?

Then I saw it, between me and the open driver’s side door.  Resignation flooded me.  I couldn’t get them all.  Particularly split up that way.

I set my jaw.  Lunging at the wolf between me and the door, I slashed at its neck.  Blood spurted in great, steaming gouts, covering me.  It staggered away and I slammed the door shut.

At least Taylor would be safe.

I heard an ear-splitting roar as the remaining two wolves leapt for me and everything went hazy after that.  Something heavy hit me from behind, knocking the wind out of me.  A sharp pain exploded in my back and I went down, the Dragon Prince skittering away across the asphalt.

Gasping, I struggled for breath.  I finally managed to turn over and saw a huge bear attacking both wolves.  The bear turned and roared at me.

Struggling to my feet, I yanked the door open and threw myself inside.

Keys!  Where were the damn keys?  I searched the seat under me, then the floor.  There.  I grabbed them, fumbling with the ignition, hands shaking, covered in blood.  The engine caught and I slammed it in reverse, backed out then shoved it in forward and shot out of the parking lot, narrowly missing several fair-goers who were also trying to escape.

It was a short drive from the fair to Luke’s house.  It seemed to take forever.  I almost missed the turnoff, but braked at the last minute and turned, rocketing along the gravel road.

I pulled up to their house and turned off the car, leaned back against the seat and closed my eyes.

“Savannah?”  Taylor’s voice was small, uncertain.  “Savannah, your back – it’s bleeding.  I saw it when those… things… attacked you.”

“It’s not from them,” I hastened to reassure her.  “I landed on a really sharp rock back there.  I think it cut me.  It’s not from the wolves.”  I hoped I was right.  I wasn’t actually sure what had happened, right at the last.

A scream from Taylor made me jump and I automatically reached for the Dragon Prince, then remembered it was still at the fair somewhere, likely underneath a grizzly and some werewolves.

Two panthers paced in front of the house.

“Relax, Taylor.  They won’t hurt you.”  I could tell she wasn’t listening, her eyes wide with shock, the kohl around her eyes smeared in great, sooty streaks all down her face.

I grabbed her shoulder, shook it hard.  “Taylor!  Listen up!”

That got her attention.  I got right up in her face.  “These are the good guys.  They won’t hurt you, okay?”  Taylor just looked at me, then stared blankly out the window as a woman came out of the house, running toward us.

Ruth.

I opened the door, practically falling out of the SUV.  Ruth’s eyes widened as she saw the blood.

“Not mine,” I choked out.  Well, most of it wasn’t mine, anyway, I thought as my back burned.  “Luke, back there… he needs help.  There were so many…”

“It’s okay,” Ruth said.  “It’s done.  Over with.  Everyone is okay, and they’re doing a bit of damage control.  They’ll be here soon.”

“Luke’s okay?  Are you sure?”

“Yes.  I’m very sure.  They’re disposing of the…” Ruth looked over at Taylor, not sure how much she knew.  “They’re cleaning up the area.  Come in the house.  You can take a shower.”

“Come on, Taylor,” I said, leaning in the open driver’s side door.  “It’s safe here.”

Taylor wouldn’t budge, her wide eyes taking in the panthers stationed in front of the house.

I turned back to Ruth.  “Could you ask them to disappear for a moment?” I asked wearily, pointing to the big cats.  “I’m not sure that Taylor can handle anything else today.”

She turned and gave a hand signal, and the two panthers melted into the woods.  I went and opened the car door and helped Taylor out of the SUV.

Later, while Ruth plied Taylor with hot tea, sitting with her at the kitchen table, I took advantage of the shower offer.

Ruth had thoughtfully left me with a change of clothes, hers most likely, along with a clean towel and washcloth.  I peeled off the bloody, torn clothing and put them in a pile in the corner.  I couldn’t see my back, but when I got in the hot shower, the stinging signaled the length of the scratch.  It was long.  It burned like fire.  It would burn even if it was from the rock, I told myself.  It’s just a scratch.  Just a scratch from a rock, I kept repeating to myself.

I stayed in the shower till the water turned cold, washing myself more than once, making sure the water no longer ran red down the tub.

Drying off, I was careful not to use the towel on the scratch lest it start bleeding again.  I hurriedly dressed, and combed out my wet hair.

When I finally went back to the kitchen, the others were already there.  Taylor, the worst of the kohl scrubbed from her face, was babbling, gesturing with shaking hands, voice high and fast, words running together.

“… and Luke changed into a panther, just like that, and Savannah grabs me and we run to the car only I can’t get in because these wolf-like creatures are stalking me and Savannah grabs her sword and goes all ninja on their ass and chops one’s head clean off and she’s everywhere all at once and I’m finally able to get inside only three other wolves lunge for her and Savannah chops into one of them but the other two keep coming and then suddenly there’s a bear too and the bear and the wolves all jump at Savannah and she goes down and there’s all this blood and I can’t tell who is bleeding – the animals or Savannah and then Savannah gets up and she’s clutching her back with one hand and she says her back got cut by a rock but I don’t know…” Taylor trailed off as everyone stared at her, shocked.

“What?  What did I say?”

Oh, Taylor.  Now look what you’ve done.

I sighed as Luke rushed over to me, followed closely by Aaron and Ruth and Emma.  All demanded to see my back.

“I just scratched it on a sharp rock, guys.  Come on.  Chill.”

Read more about Children of the Lost Moon and Gabrielle Blue HERE.

Copyright 2010 Gabrielle Blue. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

Excerpt

Chapter One

It had been nine months and three days since my Dad had died.
God, I was tired of life. The afternoon was heavy with heat, and I had just walked home from my babysitting job to find my Mom with a map spread out on the kitchen table. How strange she looked, sitting there, with an almost cheerful expression-a relief to me. I could smell dinner cooking. This was also a relief to me and most likely to all of us kids. Mom really couldn’t cope right after the news about Dad, so I had taken over the cooking. Neighbors and friends had given us casseroles at first, but after a while, people went back to their own lives, and we had to fend for ourselves in the meal department. Many of my culinary efforts had been scraped into the garbage disposal with nothing left but a lingering hunger and a bunch of dirty dishes.
Looking out the window past my Mom, I could see my little brother Jake in the backyard. He was tinkering with the broken lawnmower. Everything seemed to be broken. Jake was totally absorbed in his repair project, and I must say I felt a tinge of envy. Must be nice to be able to escape that way. Jake was only twelve but had unusual patience for his age. I would have bet all of my babysitting money that he’d have the thing running by the end of the day, but I seriously doubted he’d ever mow the lawn. Before my Dad was sent to Iraq, Jake was always begging to cut the lawn but after Dad left, he kind of lost interest. It was only the second day of July and the lawn was up to my knees. It was my hope that someone besides me would give in and handle it because the yard looked like crap!
It used to be that house beautiful was the major theme around here. On weekends Mom and Dad would go to The Home Depot and return with flats of flowers and bags of mulch. Then they’d dig and weed and mulch and mow. It was amazing to watch them because they seemed to be actually having fun. I remember them cleaning up the garage one Saturday- laughing and working,  drinking beer, and listening to country music. A perfectly awful way to spend a Saturday in my opinion, but that was their idea of a good time. Go figure.
After Dad died, yard work, cooking, washing, eating and laughing all moved to the back burner at our house. The front burner was reserved for getting through the day. Instead of bringing us together, Dad’s death sent each of us into our own world. Everyone scattered. Mom went to bed and just stayed there for weeks. Jenny was all drama, tears, and outbursts, then she just bailed and went to her best friend Katelin Fisher’s house where she would stay for days on end. The Fishers are big-time Christian folk and Jenny has fallen totally into the fold. She went over to the Fishers’ a normal girl one day and returned home a Jesus freak the next. She wore a Jesus necklace and a WWJD bracelet and always listened to the praise station.
Mom and Dad used to bring us to church when we were little, but my Dad got fed up one Sunday after the good people of the congregation got too pushy fighting their way out of the parking lot after the service. That was the first time I remember hearing the word ‘hypocrisy’.
I can’t say I really missed going to church. I thought it was boring and found it nearly impossible to pay attention to the sermons. I refused to go to Sunday school. Instead I sat quietly next to my parents, contemplating other great mysteries, like how many people were wearing glasses, or maybe the number of bald men, or how many women were with bald men. Sometimes I would count beams in the church ceiling, or more likely how many minutes ‘til it would all be over and I could go home and try to salvage the end of my weekend. Anyway, we’d never been a real churchy family. To tell you the truth, I’m not even sure if we’re any specific religion. I guess the Jesus thing gave Jenny some kind of comfort but I really didn’t get it.
Once school got out, things got a little easier. It was so embarrassing, having your Dad die. How else can I put it? I wanted to disappear. You could feel everyone whispering and watching. I guess to see if we would fall apart or whatever. Maybe it was just curiosity. The teachers and kids felt bad for us, I know, but most of their condolences made me want to yell at them. It was all I could do to be polite. I found myself going around all day with my fists clenched. I would consciously will myself to relax my hands, but before I knew it they would be back in a fist. It felt as if my insides were crying while the outside of me went on almost normally.
Now, the sadness had turned to madness. Why did my Dad have to join the stupid Army Reserve? What was he thinking? Was it for the extra money? I know that he made extra money being in the Reserve. And why did the President have to start a war? I HATED the President. Mom told me never to say that, but I didn’t care. I hated anyone who thought it a good idea to blow people up for profit or entertainment, or religion, or even democracy. It was too stupid. Too ugly and it didn’t make sense. The world was insane and it all made me sick, sick, sick.
There were only two things that keep me from jumping off a bridge. The first; my guitar. I bought my guitar with my own money saved up from many hours of torturous babysitting. A Taylor, model 510. I bought it second hand, though in excellent condition, at Guitar Warehouse. I’d stay in my room and practice for hours on end. It was the only time I’d feel kind of o.k. All the crap seemed to disappear when I was learning a new song. I’d even begun to write songs. It came naturally. Maybe that was the up side to feeling like an emotional wreck. Maybe someday I could write a song that would change the world!
Jana was the other “thing” that kept me from killing myself. She was my little sister and even though she could be a flake (and couldn’t keep a secret if her life depended on it) she had always been kind of like my baby. I was six years old when she was born, so it was like I was her ‘little mother’. Jana, unlike Jake and Jenny, needed me. She was only eight and was a Daddy’s girl. With Mom being so unlike Mom, and the whole house being so sad, I just fell into the role of Jana’s comforter. In a way it helped me, because I had to stay on the positive side for her. I had to “do” for her, which kept me moving, because I must admit the temptation to stay in bed was overwhelming at times. Anyway, I loved Jana, who had gotten kind of lost in the shuffle. I didn’t want her whole life ruined over this thing. A lot of times, (at least in books) kids lose a parent and still end up having nice lives, so that was what I tried to keep in mind.
Jana spent a lot of time at my Aunt Shirley’s playing with my cousin Robin. Robin, was a horrific brat, but she and Jana had been cradle pals and had always gotten along well. Aunt Shirley, my Dad’s older sister, was the family nut. She was messy, bossy and nosy; and those were her good points. I really couldn’t imagine how Jana could stand spending so much time there. Jake, Jenny and I would have all rather gone to the dentist than my Aunt Shirley’s.
Mom used to say stuff, like, “Her house in that condition? And still she tries to tell everyone else how to order their lives?”
There had always been tension between Mom and Aunt Shirley from my earliest memory, but things have mellowed between them ever since Dad died. And Mom doesn’t have much to say about messy houses these days anyway.
I was just glad that Jana had Robin to hang with, because that left me time to baby sit and play my guitar. Hanging out with my friends was kind of weird because they treated me differently and I admit I was different and just a little bit jealous of the ones who had fathers or even normal functioning mothers. My friends’ lives seemed so shallow with nothing better to do than think about clothes or going to the mall or what was happening on the latest stupid TV show. I just did ‘t care about that stuff anymore.
Everything had been getting on my nerves and on that particular afternoon I was feeling sticky and irritable after only making ten bucks for four hours of babysitting the ‘Whiney White twins’. Usually they were okay, but that day I hated them. I was also disappointed about the money end of things. My attitude was dangerous and I knew it. I had learned  from experience that when I was feeling so dark, my best plan of action was to lay low. My idea was to go into my room and play my guitar until I dropped, but seeing my Mom in an almost good mood was such an uplifting change in the scenery, that I decided to sit at the table and see what she was doing. She seemed to be studying a road map of the United States and she looked up at me as I sat. I waited ‘til she spoke, kind of afraid of breaking her spell.
“Jamie, I’m thinking seriously about us moving to Grandpa’s farm in Oregon.”
I was shocked into silence. Grandpa had died about two years before, and all I knew was that there had always been some kind of bad mojo between him and Mom. Us kids had never even met him– never seen his ranch. I guess my silence encouraged Mom because she confided in me further.
“We are very low on funds,” she said in a quiet voice. “Your father made good money at his job before he was called to serve in Iraq and we lived rather high on the hog. Now I’m left with a lot of debt.”
It was true. Mom and Dad both had been known to be big shoppers. Mom had three closets full of clothes and a bathroom full of expensive makeup and stuff. Dad’s ‘Beamer’ was still in the garage, along with lots of tools and toys that he’d bought over the years. We kids had had it pretty good too.
“Even with the military benefits,” she was whispering now, “I’ve already missed a few house payments.”
Despite the heat of the day, I was suddenly chilled to the bone. “We’re poor!” I thought. I’m embarrassed to say it felt as bad as Dad being dead. Silent and reeling, I waited as Mom went on calmly.
“The farm is paid for and Grandpa left it to me.”
I never knew that! No one tells me anything. Why did Grandpa leave the farm to Mom? She was his only child, but they never even spoke as far as I knew.  I remembered that my grandpa’s ranch was in a town named Promise. This cheered me a little and was also highly intriguing. I purposely kept quiet, hoping to keep my Mom talking. She went on with alarming enthusiasm.
“We can grow our own food, and get local jobs, and Jake and Jana can go to a nice little country school and you girls can finish High School in a nice little country high school, and. . . ”
“Mom!” I had to interrupt because she was really freaking me out. “Have you mentioned this to any of the others, Jenny or Jake?”
With a kooky look on her face, she said, “No.” But something about that kooky look made me think that she had already made up her mind.
“Well, keep me posted” I said, getting up from the table and giving her a little hug.
“At least things are getting interesting,” I thought, as I hopped up the stairs two at a time. I hadn’t had the energy to do that for months.
What a mind blower, I thought later, up in my room, strumming a few chords on my guitar. Mom was acting really weird and I wondered if she had, like, totally lost it or something. I wasn’t sure what I felt about the whole thing. I had to admit to myself that if we had to be poor, I surely didn’t want to do it here, in Hamilton!  It would be easier to be poor where nobody knew us. . . . And Jenny, my mind raced on, how will Jenny take this? She’ll die. She may think herself, oh so holy, but she’s far from taking a vow of poverty.
Jake and Jana? I wasn’t sure how they’d react or how much Mom would tell them. Jake had a way of always knowing what was going on but Jana pretty much lived in her own world. I wondered if Mom was really serious and, if she was, when was she thinking about leaving?
Chapter Two

Mom was serious and, once she decided that we were going to Promise, there was no stopping her. One month and two garage sales later, we were saying our goodbyes to all of our friends and family in front of our house in Hamilton. I guess it really wasn’t our house anymore. The SOLD sign was still staked into the front yard, and the new family was supposed to be moving in next week.
Mom took the money that she had made from selling the house and Dad’s car, and paid off all of our debt. She had about $1,000 left.
It was the 29th of July, and already growing warm as friends and family stood around our overloaded Saturn Wagon. I bid my adieus, gave hugs, and even managed to squeeze out a tear or two, but in my mind I was already flying down the highway toward Promise, Oregon.
“Yes, I love you all, but I’m out of here and my heart is singing”.
Such was not the case with Jenny.  She resisted the move with intensity. She cried and cried and even lobbied to live at the Fisher’s, but Mom was surprisingly firm on this one.
“No Jenny, you’re coming with us. I am sure you will find new friends and a church and all of that.”
Jenny was not convinced. She made a big scene before we left. She hugged and cried and blubbered. You would think that someone who was so religious would have more faith. After much fuss, Jenny and her bible finally got into the car. She grabbed the front seat which really bugged me. Just because she’s the oldest and has her learner’s permit and is supposed to be picking up driving pointers. HA!
Fact is, I’m the one with the driving skills. My friend, Kayley, and I took out the car one night and everything went perfectly until Dad caught us. It was a total blast until we pulled the car back into the garage. There was Dad, waiting for us with hands on hips.
“We’re dead” I said to Kayley grimly.  “Goodbye to life as we know it.”
But Dad seemed to be more relieved than mad. I think he was more afraid of what Mom would do to him if she found out. Anyway, Dad gave us ‘the big lecture’ and made us wash both cars the next day. He never told Mom. After that, he would always wink and call me Mario, after some race car driver. Mom was always a little confused by this, and I think that she suspected something but really didn’t want to know what had happened.
This little memory made me miss my Dad, but it also made me smile, and I was feeling good as we drove away from Hamilton, Ohio. Mom and Jenny in the front, Jake, Jana and me crammed in the middle, with the cats, Swartz and Isaiah in their carrier in the back.
Swartz and Isaiah were given to us by a clueless neighbor after our Dad was killed. Mom just didn’t have the strength to say ‘no’ at the time, and the kittens were so cute and funny. They had won over every member of the family, even Mom . . . especially Mom. She was as bad as Jana about doting on them.
Everyone had their pillow and one carry-on. The rest of the stuff, including my guitar, was in ‘Never, Never Land’, in the ‘Yakima’ on the roof of the car. The cats were doing that crying-baby noise thing and it was really annoying. Mom told everybody to quiet down because it was so stressful driving through the city out to the Interstate. No one wanted to piss Mom off when she was driving because she was the nervous type, so we were all quiet except for the cats crying and Jenny’s sniveling in the front seat. I reach back and kind of tapped the cats’ cage but realized that I offered little comfort. Their howls grow louder. Jenny’s sniffling sounds were still coming from the front. My good mood was fading quickly. Funny how that happens. A good mood turns bad or even a bad mood can turn around to good, though that doesn’t happen often enough if you ask me.
“I don’t think I can stand this any longer, Brother Isaiah. This is torture!”
“No kidding, Brother Swartz. Until now, I’d always thought that the humans liked us.”
“This is all your fault. A direct result of the giant turd you left in the hall closet.”
“That is impossible! I left it way in the back and it hardly smelled at all.”
I settled back for the long haul and surveyed the scene. Jake was in his own world, reading his new science magazine. Thoughtful, quiet and sane, my brother was, though he had a lazy streak, just like Dad. Though he seemed the least affected, I knew that Jake missed Dad a lot. Sometimes we’d talk about it, but after a while, what is there to say? Maybe it is good to talk about grief but, really, much of it you have to wade through alone.
Jana, in the middle, was already sleeping-the lump! Just five miles out of town and she was drooling on her pillow. I thought Jana and our cousin Robin must have had a wild “last night together” fling-complete with too much candy, no sleep and lots of big, big laughs. Even though she’s going to miss Robin, Jana is so pretty and funny that I’m really not worried about her adjusting to the move. She’s only eight and the boys are already calling. I was pretty sure that Jana would be as popular in Promise as she had been in Hamilton.
Swartz and Isaiah finally had quieted down. The only sound to be heard was of the air rushing through the open windows. I covertly dipped into my stash of candy and popped a lemon drop into my mouth. Things were starting to feel better for the moment and my good mood was making a comeback. I put my face to the wind and took a deep breath, saying a little prayer of my own. “Please, God, let us like Oregon. Let there be some cool people there. Most of all, please let us have money”.
The countryside rolled by. I was starting to feel relaxed and even a little sleepy when all of the sudden, Mom completely harshed my mellow by turning on a country radio station. This was bad. We all knew what was coming. The tension was high. Even Jana woke up. We hated when Mom sang! Oh no, here it comes! . . .
“Big city turn me loose and set me free.” She sang with wild abandon.
Oh God! There’s a dark side to my Mom being in a good mood! I knew what I had to do, and better sooner than later.
I said, as gently as I could, “Mom, please don’t sing.” I received grateful glances from Jana and Jake. (And I thought Jake wasn’t paying attention). Mom looked kind of hurt but she knew that we hated when she sang. Big City continued on without my Mom’s help. But just as things were settling down, Jenny asked if we could listen to the praise station. This was a deal breaker. I was forced to protest, perhaps a bit too vehemently. An argument followed. Things got ugly. Mom got really ugly. Things got quiet.
It was finally agreed that everyone would get one half hour of their musical choice. Mom picked country, Jenny, praise, Jake asked for quiet, I chose talk radio, and Jana for some strange reason wanted classic rock, which was probably the most tolerable to the whole group.
The miles stretched on. Lots of really pretty farm land, green pastures and white fences. There was some ugly stuff too, but I would just close my eyes when those places went by and think of my new and wonderful life on Grandpa’s ranch. We ate a late lunch at a McDonald’s near Indianapolis, took a few pee and gas stops, but mostly just kept driving. By eight o’clock, we were all begging Mom to stop but she just kept on going.
She said, “We have a long way to go. You can sleep in the car just as well as in a motel room.”
Was she nuts? There was barely enough room in the car to close your eyes.
We drove until after ten o’clock at night, finally stopping in Des Moines. The Motel Six sign never looked better. Mom talked the lady into letting us all stay in a double room with a cot for Jake. The hitch was that it was on the second floor, so we did  a lot of hauling up the stairs, which actually felt good to me because I was so tired of sitting. We had dinner-you guessed it-at McDonald’s. It was the one place that everyone could agree on and conveniently located right next to the motel. I enjoyed my filet-o-fish, coke and french fries, but more than anything, what I really wanted was to be horizontal. The motel room wasn’t bad. When we’d all gotten settled we were too tired to even fight over what to watch on T.V.
Jake had the remote control and was lying comfortably on his cot. Jana and Mom shared one bed, and I shared the other with Jenny and her Bible.
“You’d better keep that thing over on your side of the bed.”
Jenny burrowed deeper into her bible, pretending to ignore me. She never had appreciated my humor, but I really didn’t care. I was asleep before my head hit the pillow.

Read more about Off the Grid and EN McNamara HERE.

Copyright 2008 EN McNamara. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

Excerpt
PROLOGUE

I’m having a dream and in my dream I am desperately searching for my little cousin, six year-old Tibou. I am calling his name out loud in a very large and dark forest. My good friend Moun, the dog, is at my side helping me find him. He’s snooping around the bushes, sometimes creeping through the underbrush like a dedicated soldier. Occasionally an old bone or an animal carcass distracts him but, nevertheless, he stays right by my side.
“Tibou, Tibou, Tibou, Tibou, kote ou ye (where are you)?” I call.
“Tilou, Tilou, Tilou, Tilou, mwen la (I am here),” says a voice I can barely hear.
At least, that’s what I think I hear, or maybe that’s what I want to hear. I stop and listen carefully. My voice is resonating throughout the very large forest, each word rebounding from the trees to the mountaintops, and down into the savannah.
I must wait until after the echo stops before saying another word. The long echo is interfering with the sound of my voice. In a way, it feels good listening to the projection of my words. It seems almost like a game. It reminds me of times when I was playing with a friend and, after I’d say something, they would mimic what was said, just to tease.
Could the mountain and the forest be playing with me? Could it be that my little cousin is also teasing me? I hope so. As we proceed towards the coffee grove, Moun becomes uneasy and turns to go back up the hill.
“Hey Moun! Where are you going? “ I ask. He comes back reluctantly. He must be sensing something. Gran told us little kids not to venture around this particular coffee grove at night because of the many lougawous (werewolves) and vampires hiding in it. But in spite of my fears, I don’t want to leave until I find my little cousin. As I continue to dream, my need to find Tibou overcomes the scary feelings I’m getting from the dark trees.
Moun is barking in intervals and he too seems obsessed with his voice echoing through the forest. It makes him bark even more. Each time he barks, he sits, listens, and barks again. Then he whimpers until the sound of his barking returns. When the echo dissipates, he barks the way he normally does. Moun is the funniest animal and the best friend I have ever known.
In spite of this slight distraction, Moun knows very well why we are in the forest. He knows we are looking for Tibou so he too doesn’t stop his search. He continues to sniff around, looking everywhere for my young cousin. Moun walks inside a small dark area surrounded by dry branches where he finds something that he drags out and shows to me. It is a piece of clothing which looks like Tibou’s old shirt. At that point my heart begins to palpitate.
I slip beneath the branches with much fear, but I realize that I must prepare myself for anything. I look beneath the leaves of a scrub oak and suddenly I am face-to-face with a huge rattlesnake and her babies. The snake’s head alone seems bigger than Moun’s. She buzzes to warn off intruders. I have never seen anything like this before. I take off running and so does Moun who has always been a big chicken at heart. He’s always the first to run whenever he’s frightened.
“Aren’t you supposed to protect me?” I say to Moun after we’re a safe distance away from mama snake. He looks at me as if to say, “Not today, child.”
It’s even darker now, but I refuse to stop the search. We continue looking and I decide to walk down to the savannah to see what’s up. I knock on every single door hoping to find Tibou, but with no luck. Then I arrive at Ton Nele’s house. He’s one of the fishermen who lives down on the savannah.
“Is he the short little kid with a large gap in his mouth?”
“Yes,” I respond, waiting patiently for an answer.
Scratching his head he replies, “Oh yeah! He’s losing his baby teeth. I still remember my first baby tooth, and my second, and my third. They all disappeared and then reappeared for a while. But today, I look inside my mouth and realize that they’re all gone now. Do you know where they might have gone?”
“I’m sure they’ll be back someday,” I say with a smile.
“Good, because I’m tired of eating foufou (mashed plantain). I used to crack open the toughest nuts not to mention hard cow bones, you know,” he laughs aloud.
I am standing there waiting in anticipation. I hope he’ll eventually tell me where my little cousin is.
Ton Nele stops for awhile.
“Let me think. I’m losing my memory, you know. I’m getting old and my mind is not as sharp as it used to be. What were we talking about?”
“My cousin, Tibou,” I calmly say.
“Ah! My cousin Bobo. He’s in heaven now. Child, he wakes up one day, eats his foufou and says “˜goodbye’. I think he lived way too long, anyway. One hundred and eight is way too much for anyone. I bet he’s watching us from Heaven right now. Between you and me, he was a lougawou (werewolf). But don’t tell anyone I told you,” he says.
Realizing that I am getting nowhere with Ton Nele, I say “thank you” and walk away.
Our search continues. We search everywhere for Tibou. I look under four large mango trees then I notice that the day is getting darker. I am afraid that I may have to call off the search. I turn around to leave and suddenly I am face-to-face with a tall figure. I look closer, and the figure seems to be wearing a long, black coat. A very long, black, laced, hooded hat covers its entire face. The figure has a black glove in its hand and it stands right there looking at me. I am petrified.
“Oh my God! For the first time in my life, I am face to face with a vampire,” I think.
I look beside me and notice that Moun is doing number one on the side of a banana tree that really deserves to be watered because of the drought.
“Hurry Moun, I need you now,” I say to myself.
The dog must have heard my thoughts. Moun soon notices the strange looking figure and starts to bark out of his mind. The creature springs at me. Moun is there in time to attack its leg. I take off running and the tall figure, after disengaging itself from Moun, starts chasing after me. Of course Moun goes after it immediately.
It kicks Moun in the head and Moun yaps a little but continues his attack. However, the strange creature shows too much resilience. It chases after me so I run into the dark forest as fast as I can.
In my haste to evade this scary monster, I trip and fall hard onto the ground. The vampire closes the gap. A hand grabs me but Moun pounces and clamps his jaws around one of its feet, ending up with one shoe in his mouth.
The tall figure runs away leaving the shoe behind. I watch Moun settle down with the shoe, chewing happily. I think to myself, “I didn’t know vampires wear shoes.”
I feel as though I’ve seen those shoes before, but I can’t remember where. I run up the hill to Gran’s house and see Bojo, a man who lives down on the savannah below our house. He is holding Tibou’s limp body in his arms. My heart starts beating fast.
Nearby there is a man hiding under the lemon tree, holding a second shoe. I look at him under the bright moonlight and recognize the same clothes worn by the creature from the forest.
“Oh my God!” I whisper.
I think I recognize him. He looks directly at me and places his index finger over his mouth as if to tell me to be silent. Then he slips away.
Copyright 2008 Lili Dauphin. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

From the large, fenced pen set back from one of the goal posts, two Pinto mascots eyed the crowd gathering for Dos Pinto High School’s bid to win New Mexico’s AAA championship. Keeping his focus on the teenagers meandering near him, one Pinto gnawed at a string which held a banner: “Mustangs Rock”. Until now Dos Pintos’ only claim to fame had been the old Indian legend from which the town got its name. The story went that two children of a family of early settlers came down with an illness from which they did not recover. From a herd of mustangs which remained wild and never allowed any kind of contact with humans, two younger members of the herd unexplainably came down and remained near the family’s meager farm. The Mescalero Apache Indians believed that the spirits of the children had gone to rest in the two paint horses who deserted their herd to remain close to the family. Visiting Spanish soldiers dubbed the small ranch “Dos Pintos” and as the town grew, the name remained.

The bleachers on both sides of the football field were rapidly filling with excited, local parents, faculty, and townspeople. Wrapped up for the crisp, clear Autumn night and hyped because their team was finally a powerhouse, the adults began to think that maybe the small high school could win two championships once the basketball team took its place in the spotlight.

Being a huge basketball supporter, George Eagle of Apache Fishing & Hiking Supplies, readily joined in. “There’s a real basketball star, Michael Kirkpatrick. See him? Next to his brother, the short guy that looks like football’s in his future? How can you miss Michael? He’s taller than all the kids. Look. Right next to the snack stand.”

At 6’5″, Michael did tower over everyone, including his 5’10″ brother, Teddy, but Teddy bested the basketball player’s weight by about 15 pounds. Finishing off hotdogs and sodas as they walked to the sidelines, Michael tried to spot the arrival of his long-tiome friend and now girlfriend of two years, Kelly Lambert

Teddy checked out the band forming up on the far end of the field, ignoring the cheerleaders loudly trying to get chants out of the cluless adults in the stands, and hoped to see the team emerge any second from the locker rooms nearby. A muffled neigh floated down from the mountain beyond. Teddy jerked his head around, trying to find the horse that called.

“Did Dad like football, Michael?”

Michael had heard the distant neighing, too, and knowing his younger brother as he did, Michael could read the off-the-wall thought going through Teddy’s mind. “Teddy, that was not Dad you heard.”

“I know, Michael.” But Teddy did not sound truly convinced of that. “But did he like football? Will he watch my games from heaven when I play?’

Michael just shook his head. How in the world should he answer? Teddy loved the legend of Dos Pintos. To a boy of limited mental capabilities with concentration problems that made even special education classes a chore, imagining his father watching over him made life a big easier for Teddy. Losing their father to a heart attack when they were young had been devastating for both boys and their mother. Michael imagined that Teddy kept his father nearby extending the Dos Pintos legend to include a great stallion housing his father’s spirit.

“Did you hear me. Michael?” Teddy’s words broke into Michael’s thoughts. “There’s Kelly over there.”

Kelly grinned at seeing Teddy waving eagerly. Her honey blond hair bounced in its usual ponytail as she weaved through the milling crowd of teenagers.

“Did you eat anything?” Michael asked as he took her hand.

“I didn’t want to miss any of this. The whole town must be here.”

“Come on, let’s get you something from the snack stand.” They began walking toward the stand. When Michael looked back he saw that Teddy wasn’t following. “You too, Bud.”

“I wanna see the team come out.”

“Hey, Teddy,” called Raymond Garcia as he ran up. Teddy gave an answering grin to the only friend he had outside his special classes.

For once Michael relaxed his vigilance. “Hiya, Raymond. Okay, Teddy, we’ll be right back. You stay right here, okay? Just wait right here for us.”

Teddy nodded in agreement.

Raymond drew Teddy’s attention with, “I came with my brother and sister like you did.” He realized what he had said and added, “I mean with your brother. You don’t have a sister.”

When Teddy realized Raymond’s mistake, he gave his friend a jab to the arm and laughed, too.

After a few minutes, during which Teddy saw Michael waving to him from the snack stand, Raymond announced suddenly, “I have to go find my brother and sister now.” And with that, Raymond ran off, leaving Teddy alone.

Teddy once again turned to watch the gym’s doors. Nothing. As high school kids filled the sidelines near him, the noise level seemed to rise. Teddy didn’t know any of the people near him. He couldn’t see Michael now. “I have to find Michael,” Teddy thought, and he quickly started toward the snack stand.

“Hey, there, kid.” An older boy blocked Teddy’s way. “How ya doin’?”

“I’m okay. What’s your name?”

“I’ve got something for you,” the boy continued, ignoring Teddy’s question. He placed a small plastic bag in Teddy’s hand and closed Teddy’s fingers around it. “You wanna buy it?”

“I don’t have any money,” Teddy responded while trying to give the packet back. “My brother, Michael, told me not to take anything from strangers.”

“Michael? You don’t mean Michael Kirkpatrick.” He patted himself on the back for picking out Michael’s brother for this. “So you’re Michael’s brother. Tell him Leo says ‘hi’.”

“I don’t want this,” Teddy shoved the bag into Leo’s hand and moved away quickly.

Halfway to Michael, a hand suddenly caught Teddy’s arm and pulled him from the crowd, away from the snack stand. Realizing it was an adult, Teddy didn’t struggle until his internal alarm bell rose to panic.

“What’s the matter? Where are you taking me? You’re a stranger.”

Assistant Principal Martinez kept walking. “Just come with me.”

“Michael!” Teddy yelled.

Michael glimpsed Teddy disappearing behind the bleachers, He ran as fast as possible through the crowd and stopped short when he saw Teddy being held by Mr. Martinez.

“What are you doing to my brother?” Michael yelled as he pulled Teddy to him. Holding Teddy tightly, Michael glared at the vice principal.

“This is your brother?” Mr. Martinez knew Michael and had heard about Michael’s mentally-challenged brother. “I’m sorry, Michael, but I just saw him hand off a plastic bag to an older boy. I was just going to ask your brother about it. That’s all. I’m sorry if I scared you, son,” he added directly to Teddy.

Mr. Martinez’s apology seemed sincere to Michael, but it still sounded as though Teddy were in some kind of trouble. “What are you accusing Teddy of?” Michael asked through tight lips.

“You know we have to check out suspicious things like this.”

Michael turned to Teddy. “What about it, Bud? Did you give something suspicious to someone?” Suddenly Michael realized that something was not quite right about the situation. “Wait a minute…” Michael turned back to Mr. Martinez. “Where is this other person? Who was it?”

“It was Leo,” Teddy broke in. “He said he knew you, Michael. He told me to tell you ‘hi’.”

“If it’s the guy I think it is, I’ve heard of him. Teddy, you are never to have anything to do with him. Understand?”

“Yes, Michael. Are you mad at me?”

“No. Just tell Mr. Martinez what happened.”

After Teddy finished relating the events, Michael was more than satisfied that Teddy had proven himself innocent of any wrongdoing.

Looking pained, Mr. Martinez said, “Turn your pockets inside out, Teddy.”

Of course, Teddy had no drugs or any incriminating residue. But Mr. Martinez explained that no matter how innocent and inadvertent Teddy’s actions had been, he had handled the plastic bag and the school had no choice but to place Teddy on OCS – on campus suspension – for two weeks.

“What? That’s not fair!” Michael was so incensed he bellowed his remarks at the vice principal, drawing the attention of everyone nearby. “This Leo guy doesn’t get in trouble but Teddy is on OCS? He can’t even wait for me when basketball practice starts? I’m not going to tell Coach I’ll miss practice because Teddy can’t stay home alone – YOU tell him.”

Mr. Martinez’s mouth dropped as Michael led Teddy away. The school wasn’t going to like this. The basketball coach wasn’t going to like it. But rules are rules…aren’t they?

* * *

From this beginning Michael soon finds himself plunged into the world of drugs among teenagers and finds he must either find some way to stop them or risk seeing Teddy unwittingly drawn into that world.

Copyright 2008 J. A. Fulkerson. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

Excerpt:

Chapter II

The Boy

1

His grandfather had filled his hands with the dust of their ancestors and had thrown the dust into the wind. He had told the living ones how his youngest grandson would leave the camp and not return without words from the Great Living Wolf. These would be the words that would bring power back to the tribe, and by which the tribe would at last learn of its new homeland.

His grandfather had told the people of his grandson’s special gift—a secret the family had kept until that day—the gift of knowing the thoughts of the four-legged ones, the ah-mal. Those who believed the old man had gazed upon him in wonder at hearing such a thing. Others had smiled and poked at one another, and finally walked away with grimaces on their faces and harsh words on their tongues.

“You will go to the highland made of three peaks,” his grandfather had told him after the meeting of the clans. “To the top of the one peak that lies open to the stars. There the wolf-spirit sometimes comes to sleep. Where it need only look up to see the eyes of its dead ones, the unliving spirits of its kind.

“There you will wait for the wolf-spirit to come to you,” Hay-Tuk-ba-ay’s grandfather went on. “This may take a day and a night, perhaps ten days and ten nights. You will carry only water, your robe, and your knife. No food. You will return only with these things, and with the words of the Great Living Wolf.”

At the meeting, Hay-Tuk-ba-ay had tried to speak, to tell the people that only one time had he heard the thoughts of the ah-mal, and that had been at age four. Only a dream, it now seemed. But his grandfather had put his old fingers to Hay-Tuk-ba-ay’s lips and stopped him from speaking. And now Hay-Tuk-ba-ay sat alone on this hilltop, barren but for a few of the whitebark trees. Under the cold, dark sky of his third night, a sky offering not a single star for light. His belly tight and craving. His arms and legs as weak as a newborn’s. Huddling inside his robe. Silently sipping from his waterbag and remembering what the heat of a fire felt like inside the roundhouse, and waiting for the sun to rise.

Hay-Tuk-ba-ay gently stroked the cluster of three crow feathers that hung from his braided brown hair. His eyes filled with tears again.

2

The day broke upon a dense cloud that had rolled up from the flatland during the night and draped itself over the hilltop. The sun’s light muted to shifting shades of gray, Hay-Tuk-ba-ay could see little beyond the hilltop, although he remembered the broadleaf forest that lay to the south and ran right up against the foot of the hill. And he remembered the view of the distant valley to the west. Nothing moved in the gray. Not a sound upon the world. Not even the mice in the nearby rocks venturing from their holes.

He would eat this day, he told himself. He would find mushrooms and roots, and what he needed to make a fire. He was certain, now, that the wolf-spirit was not coming. Not to him. Probably not to any of the poor and homeless Hay-gan people. But especially not to one of their young boys, one who had not yet fought against the enemies, or even killed his own meat. If there was such a being as the Great Living Wolf, he would go to the Ani-gan, or to the Po-gan, the people with good horses and strongbows. Or to the Sobe-gan, whose axes, Hay-Tuk-ba-ay had heard, were made of the stone that never breaks, and who knew the secrets of growing the tay-tu root in the river valleys.

With the last of his hope gone, Hay-Tuk-ba-ay could feel nothing but the sudden sputter of his heart, fear surge through his veins, when he saw the shadow move amidst the deep gray. Low and stealthily it moved. Sliding in and out of his vision where the mist thinned and thickened. Passing to the side before turning toward him again.

Hay-Tuk-ba-ay stirred his sluggish mind. He thought to sing his people’s song that welcomes the spirit.

Great Spirit of the forest runner,

Silent watcher of the open,

Skillful hunter of the highland,

Dream-maker and provider,

Keeper of the Hay-gan heart,

Your people call to you now.

But Hay-Tuk-ba-ay feared to sing. He doubted his voice.

He wanted the spirit to come, and dreaded that it would.

He sat still as the stones on the hill, quiet as the air. Just another lifeless form of no consequence. An old rotten stump to a careless eye. A crumpled bush.

But the spirit did not turn away. On it came, as Hay-Tuk-ba-ay tried to swallow the dryness from his throat. His hands began to shake the robe he held around him. He saw clearly now that the spirit came on four legs. That it came in the shape of a wolf. Emerging white from the gray mist. Eyes upon him—eyes as white as its coat.

“Hay-Tuk-ba-ay,” the boy heard inside his head.

“You are a brave young man, Hay-Tuk-ba-ay,” he heard.

3

His robe hanging loosely from his shoulders, Hay-Tuk-ba-ay hurried on light feet down from the hilltop and toward the broadleaf forest that sprawled to the southeast. Beneath a sun that now shone brightly, the forest beckoned with the promise of rabbit and squirrel. He had torn a strip of hide from his robe and fashioned it into a snare. He would find flint on his journey, and kindling for fire.

Grandfather Hay-Tuk-al, and the others, would have to wait to hear the words of the Great Living Wolf. The wolf-spirit had not given his words to Hay-Tuk-ba-ay without asking for something in return. His heart filled with such joy that it felt like a ripened melon in his chest, Hay-Tuk-ba-ay was happy to follow the wolf-spirit’s instructions. Never before had Hay-Tuk-ba-ay known the feeling of mission. He had known duty—the scraping of hides, the chasing of deer toward the hunter’s stand, the search for berries, the long night-watch for the coming of the hated Po-gan thieves to their camp. Mission was for the men and women. This wolf-spirit had said that Hay-Tuk-ba-ay was now a man. He had given Hay-Tuk-ba-ay the words the Hay-gan had waited so long to hear, but also this mission.

Hay-Tuk-ba-ay reached the forest that stood still and cool, and he scurried through brush and beneath the sweeping limbs like a chasing fox. Ahead lay the trail that the wolf-spirit had told him about. That trail would lead him to the southeast before turning slowly back to the west and to the place of the whitesand cliffs. Once there, he would climb those cliffs, follow them even farther west, and there fulfill his mission. Then hurry home.

Fulfill his mission, or die.

But before that, he must eat.