Black Moon Sing (The Turquoise Path Book 1) by L. M. Hawke Read Free Book Online

as she gained altitude. The desert below melded into one great patchwork of red earth and pale, dry-green sagebrush. The hogan’s roof was a smooth circle far below, its smoke hole staring up at Ellery like an unblinking eye. With her owl’s eyes, she searched the ground around the house for any faint traces of evidence.
    Most people assumed all owls were strictly nocturnal, but barn owls like Ghost Owl hunted just as easily by day as they did by night. His eyes were far keener than any human’s, and it only took Ellery two laps around the hogan before she spotted tracks in the sandy red soil. The large paw prints had almost been blown away by desert winds, but enough of their traces still remained—especially between clumps of sage, where they were sheltered from the elements—that she was confident they were the tracks of a mountain lion.
    She swooped low, crossing the line of tracks that led from the northern edge of the hogan, then arcing back to cross the tracks again. Each time she passed overhead, Ellery grew more convinced she was correct.
    With a tilt of her wings and a few energetic beats, she cruised along the path of the cougar’s tracks. The creature had run north for a while, climbing up the slope of the foothills toward the summit of Black Mesa. But as it had neared the top of the mesa, the beast had veered suddenly in a different direction.
    Northeast.
    Ellery’s owl form chirped in surprise. Then she examined the tracks more closely as she followed them northeast, counting wing-beats between each paw print. The cougar had taken gigantic strides, running faster than any earthly mountain lion could have done. Definitely the work of a trader; their unique magic granted them unnatural speed.
    As the tracks gained the crest of the mesa, sunlight glinted off something bright and smooth embedded in one of the massive paw prints. Ellery’s flying speed carried her beyond the small but mysterious object; she flexed her broad tail, fanning its feathers, and beat against the wind currents with her silent wings to slow her progress. Then she circled back to search for the shiny object again.
    There . She noted the sun’s flash once more, and swooped down for a closer look. Her talons hit the earth, kicking up puffs of red dust as she hopped to a stand-still. She tilted her head, staring at the paw print first with one sharp, black eye, then the other.
    No mistake about it , she told her owl spirit. A single turquoise bead was pressed down in the middle of one of the cougar’s prints, as if it had been dropped unnoticed and then stepped on as the cougar ran. The bead was smooth from age and plenty of use. Well-worn… old. It may well have belonged to William Roanhorse.
    Ellery grabbed the bead with her agile beak, tapping it with the owl’s fleshy tongue. A prickle of familiarity ran through her, causing her feathers to fluff of their own accord. She shook her feathers back into place and hopped across the ground until she had enough momentum to lift off. Then she flew back the way she had come, toward the hogan and Hosteen, who was as tiny as a black ant beside his distant pickup truck.
    Ellery fluttered down into the yard outside Roanhorse’s hogan. She sent Ghost Owl on his way with her usual thanks for his cooperation, and Ghost Owl gave his usual disdainful screech in reply.
    Cranky old bird. He never changes .
    The rush of blue light enveloped Ellery again; a heartbeat later, she stood before Hosteen in her human form, clutching the turquoise bead in her fist.
    Hosteen, Ellery saw, had pressed himself back against the hood of his truck, arms folded across his chest in a defensive posture. He stared at her in silence, but she could read the awe and mistrust plainly enough on his face.
    She held out her fist, offering him the bead. But Hosteen didn’t move.
    “For crap’s sake,” Ellery snapped. “I’m not going to bite you. Look: I found something. I think it’s important.”
    Hosteen hesitated a