The Visitant: Book I of the Anasazi Mysteries by W. Michael Gear, Kathleen O’Neal Gear Read Free Book Online Page A

The fringes on the hem of his tan knee-length shirt flipped in the wind. “Gods, she’s alive,” he exhaled the words, and clutched Hophorn’s hand to his chest. “Thank the gods.”
    Chaos broke out as people left the burial pit to rush in their direction. The rustling of clothing and hissing of questions assailed the quiet.
    The crowd massed ten paces from the fire pit, whispering, wringing their hands. When Catkin glanced at them, she saw a wall of frightened eyes.
    Browser gently tipped Hophorn’s head, and studied her slack expression, her half-open eyes. “Her pupils are two different sizes.”
    “I know.” Catkin tied her war club to her belt, and reached beneath Hophorn’s cape to touch her chest. “She’s cold. She must be in shock.”
    Browser tenderly stroked Hophorn’s hair, and whispered, “I’m here, Hophorn. Don’t be afraid. You’re safe. Everything is going to be all right.”
    Cloudblower shoved through the crowd. Graying black hair straggled around her cheeks. She indicated the path Catkin had taken. “If I walk here, may I come?”
    “Yes, but take care.”
    Cloudblower nodded. When she reached Catkin, she fell to her knees and gently took hold of the Sunwatcher’s head. “Blessed Ancestors.” She ran her fingers over the indentation in the skull.
“Evil Spirits must be flying in from everywhere to feed on her brain. The brain will be swelling with them. If we do not relieve that pressure, she may die.”
    Cloudblower lurched to her feet, and yelled, “Whiproot, help me carry her. We must get her to my chamber immediately!”
    Whiproot ran the path Cloudblower had taken. Gusts of wind ruffled his white-feathered cape and chin-length black hair. He had only seen eighteen summers, but each showed on his face. His scars twitched as he neared Hophorn, and Catkin saw the tears that welled in his eyes.
    “What—”
    “Take her feet. I will take her shoulders.”
    Whiproot did as the Kokwimu instructed. They lifted the Sunwatcher and started for the crumbling town where Cloudblower lived. Most of the crowd went with them, leaving less than a handful of onlookers. They milled about, speaking ominously to each other, gazing back and forth between Catkin and Browser, and the burial pit where Flame Carrier and Springbank still stood.
    Browser rose. His wife and son were dead. His lover had been injured and might die, too. The very ground seemed to quake beneath his feet. “Did you see any sign of the attacker?”
    Catkin shook her head. “Nothing except the red feathers. The sand is frozen solid. None of us are making tracks. Even with fifty people out here, we’ve barely scuffed the ground.”
    Browser walked to the fire and stopped suddenly. His eyes widened, as he caught sight of something on the ground.
    “Catkin?” he said. “Come over here.”
    “What is it?”
    Browser picked up the object and turned it in his hand. “A turquoise wolf.”
    For a moment she was too stunned to say anything, then she blurted, “What!” She ran forward and grabbed for the precious talisman.
    During the Age of Emergence, there had been two kinds of “people”: First People and Made People. The First People were related to those who had bravely climbed through the four underworlds; led by a blue-black wolf, they had emerged into this world
of light. Originally, all First People had lived in Straight Path Canyon, near the sacred tunnel from which they had emerged. Legends said the First People had built their kiva around that hole. The four clans of the Straight Path nation were, on the other hand, Made People. The Creator had fashioned them from “animals” to provide company for the First People. The Buffalo Clan, Bear Clan, Ant Clan, and Catkin’s own clan, the Coyote Clan, had originally been the animals their names implied. The Creator had breathed upon them, and they had turned into humans. But the First People had considered them inferior because they had once been animals, whereas the