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Party!
Join me and more than 400 authors and publishers for a month of goodies. There are hundreds of excerpts (you just might find that next great read) And there are over 400 prizes too! (All winners will be notified at the end of the event.) I'm there March 31st and my prize is an Authorgraphed (signed by me) Kindle copy of The Witchy Wolf and the Wendigo
Simply follow this link to The Romance Reviews site to find my name on the participant list then scroll down to my Question and choose an answer from the multiple choice. Go to the Party!
Simply follow this link to The Romance Reviews site to find my name on the participant list then scroll down to my Question and choose an answer from the multiple choice. Go to the Party!
For the ancient and modern roots of the story, read my post on USA Today
Without further ado. Here's my part in The Romance Reviews 2nd Anniversary Party!
Find the answer to my party question below.
The True Beginning
Ten years ago, a
reporter for a small-town newspaper heard word of strange dawn and dusk
sightings of a wolf-like creature roaming the Wisconsin countryside. Her
investigation revealed that local police officials had initially taken these
calls lightly, but this had changed when calls began coming from upstanding
citizens.
Authorities had
determined what these eyewitnesses had actually seen was a lone wolf broken off
from a pack running in the wilds of northern Wisconsin. Young male wolves
seeking to start a new pack are known to strike off on their own. Leaving the
vast stretches of wooded landscape, they might travel one hundred miles in a
day. It seemed likely. But the witnesses were adamant that what they’d seen had
been no ordinary wolf. This wolf walked
like a man.
Intrigued, the reporter
collected the stories. To her surprise, other witnesses came forward telling of
sightings that they’d never reported. In fact, some eyewitness accounts had
occurred more than seventy years prior, the details only whispered to relatives
who were sworn to secrecy lest friends and neighbors think heavy drinking was
involved. These stories she also collected, for she knew hushed secrecy was not
a direction fame-seekers usually take.
More curious now, the
reporter deepened her investigation and uncovered another bizarre detail: the
sightings were mentioned in ancient oral traditions of the Native Americans in
the region. In those tales, dog men or witchy wolves looked after burial
mounds in much the same way jackal-headed Anubis guarded the tombs of ancient
Egypt. And even more bizarre, early French explorers knew of them too. They
called these wolf-men the loup-garou.
Chapter 1
Good
lord it’s hot. Pulling her blue bandana from her back
pocket, Cora mopped the sweat from her brow and mentally tallied the extras
needed for the next day: Gatorade, ice,
definitely more shade tarps. She’d only found out at nine o’clock the night
before that this unique otter effigy mound was being plowed under — greedy bastards
with friends in high places had an industrial park to build. With only a
few hours’ notice, they’d thrown the dig together and as a result, were
unprepared for the oppressive August heat. Worse, they had just one week to do
the archeological excavation, and this heat wave was expected to last for a
week or more. Surprised by the heat of the metal against her lips, Cora took a
sip from her steel water bottle and frowned. The water was hot enough to steep
tea in. Checking her watch, she eyed the sky through a haze of humidity. The
angle of the afternoon sun would soon make conditions even more unbearable for
her staff.
It was hard to miss
red-faced Cherise standing by the screen tables. Heading that way, Cora’s frown
deepened. The woman’s normally parchment-pale skin was mottled with exertion,
her bright red face almost as brilliant as the flaming orange-red tendrils of
hair peeking from under her wide-brimmed straw hat. Weighing their safety
against the time they didn’t have, there was simply no choice. The oppressive
heat was dangerous. That’s enough, I’m calling it.
Drawing the attention
of her crew, she told them, “All right, pack it in for the day, people. Let’s
go home. It’s too hot out here!”
Cherise said, “Just
finishing up a load, boss.”
“Okay, don’t rush.”
The work would need to
be covered. Cora unfolded the blue plastic tarps while she waited for the
junior archeologist to finish sifting the soil they’d dug from the opened
mound. She glanced down, at the ancient skeleton long since disjointed. Visible
legs, lower arms, and pelvic and the bottommost rib bones lay partially
exposed. Cherise shook the frame. Small bone and artifacts remained on the
screen while soil fell through the mesh to mound below. White flecks on the
tray catching her eye, Cora held up a hand to halt the sifting.
Cherise stopped and
mopped her brow with the back of her hand and left a muddy streak across her
forehead. She helped pick the artifacts from the larger clumps. Carefully
crumbling the chunks with their fingers, they found more than a dozen
freshwater pearls, several pearlescent nacre disks cut from the inside of
mussel shells, and a tiny white fang with a small hole drilled in it to make a
bead.
Cora blew dirt off the
fang to get a better look. “A fox tooth, I think. And more pearls.”
“Yep, close to fifty
pearls in this load alone.” Cherise picked out three more pearls and wiped them
off as best she could before turning them out of her grimy palm into Cora’s
hand.
“Fifty pearls from this one load?”
“Mmm hmm.” Cherise
passed over six more pearls, two nacre disks, and another fox fang bead.
“If we’re finding that many in a single sift, this was
a woman of standing. Her necklace must have contained several ropes of pearls
rather than strands. I think it safe to say that the closer we get to the
skull, the more we’ll find.”
It was no small feat to
drill pearls and teeth and cut shell disks. Cora considered the opened burial.
The delineated soil variations reinforced her earlier opinion that this was a
rare intaglio mound. Not all burial or effigy mounds were done in the round
like this one. The image had been cut into the ground then all the soil removed
to create an exact whole-body impression of the animal effigy. The soil was
then put back in and more was added until a three-dimensional mound was made.
This one was otter-shaped. If it were possible to remove only the otter shape
from the soil, it would be a perfect three-dimensional design. She voiced her
opinion to the woman beside her.
“I think you’re right.”
Cherise pointed a grubby finger. “See there? The variations are very clear at
the left femur.”
Stooping to get a
better look, Cora said, “Ooh yeah. There’s obvious basket mounding, and over here
I see evidence of mounding below the remains too. That’s intaglio, all right.”
She shook her head at the tremendous loss. It was a crime to destroy such an
amazing archeological treasure. Her mind quickly composed the phone calls she’d
make first thing in the morning to try to get more time to do this excavation
right instead of rushing. It was
someone’s grave after all. But final
resting place for a woman held in high regard by her people or not, there was
no hope of canceling the project all together. Money talked louder than she
ever could.
Cherise hosed the trowels
with water from the pump pack. “What do you think that extra work was for? I
mean, dig out the shape with stone and bone tools, then fill in the shape again
one basket full of dirt at a time until the shape is also above ground?”
“A little labor intensive don’t you think?”
Cherise nodded. “A little.”
“To us this seems like
a lot of effort, but this is a fraction of the effort the ancient Egyptians
devoted to their dead. If you care
that the departed travel to the spirit realm, you do what your culture
determines the best method of travel to be.”
The flow of the hose
was weakening. Cherise pumped more air pressure into the water pump.
It was obvious the
young woman’s energy was waning. Placing a hand on the handle, Cora cautioned
her red-faced associate, “Stop now, you look exhausted and you’re as red as a
beet with that sunburn.”
The younger woman
looked her arms. “Ooh. That’s gonna
hurt. I must have sweated off the sunscreen. Great, more freckles.” She
murmured the last under her breath.
Doubting the junior
archeologist had been drinking enough, Cora picked up Cherise’s water bottle
and handed it over. “Here, drink. Freckles will be the least of your problems
if you get heat stroke.”
Cherise took a swig and
wrinkled her nose. “Jesus, that’s hot.”
Cora covered the
sifting screen with a blue tarp. “Take a cool shower when you get home. Drink for God’s sake, and get some
rest.”
“Yeah, I could use a
cold beer right about now.”
“So could I, but I was
referring to water.”
“Sure you were, boss.” Cherise chuckled and
handed over the bungee cords that would secure the plastic cover. “You know
it’s going to be near one hundred again tomorrow. High humidity like today too.
We should start earlier, huh?”
Cora let her breath out
slowly, deciding what to do. Coming in early was the last thing she wanted
because John was taking her out on their bimonthly rain-or-shine date tonight.
Good judgment won the internal debate. “Okay. We’ll come in early and finish
this pile before the heat of the day. She jerked her thumb to the small stand
of oaks. “We’ll bag and catalog under the fly in the shade over there. Go home
and cool off the sunburn. I’ll finish up here.”
“Will do.”
Cora waved to the
others, “See you in the morning guys. We’re starting at six to beat the heat.
Don’t forget to drink water tonight to rehydrate, and eat a pretzel or
something like that. You’ll need the salt.” Her words were met with nods and
good byes.
Alone now, Cora
crouched beside the opened mound and carefully unrolled the last sheet of
plastic canvas. Before she turned to walk away, she spoke softly, as if the
bones could hear. “I’m so sorry we’re disturbing your peace. I wish I could
have stopped all this, but I’m powerless.” That said, she followed the others.
A large curious field
mouse scurried over the top of the burial mound. He watched the people, his
gaze pulling time and again first to the fire-haired young woman leaving with
the others, then to the slightly older woman who’d stayed behind to spread a
cloth over the soil with obvious care.
Sensing the people were
gone, the mouse drew a deep breath. Suddenly his form changed from mouse to
rabbit, from rabbit to fox, and then from fox into a wolf with unusual black
markings on its face. This higher vantage allowed him to check the area before
continuing. Confident he was alone, his legs lengthened as he slowly shifted
from wolf on four legs to a wolf on two. His muzzle shortened, as did his ears.
A moment later he stood as a man.
His throat tightened as
he walked amongst the tables and pails. A small bone caught his eye and he bent
to pick it up. He stared a long while, seeing but not seeing the hand it
belonged to so long ago. It was his task to watch over this resting place, and
his task alone. Coming here later than usual today, there was nothing he could
do to stop the white man’s destruction. His eyes filled with tears as his fist
closed around the finger bone. Slumping to the ground, he sobbed in anguished
sorrow.
There was no sense to
this. What kind of people disturb the dead? Couldn’t they see this was sacred
ground, a resting place? Composing himself, he wiped the tears from his eyes
before reverently setting the small bone back in the opened mound.
Twilight fast
approaching, he faced the setting sun, his palms held up to the sky. He hadn’t
spoken for a very long time and doing so now, his voice sounded dry and strange
to his ears. “Sky Father I have failed, I beg your forgiveness!”
Kneeling, he pressed
his hands to the ground. “Earth Mother, I beg forgiveness. I have failed in my
task…”
Rising, he turned his
back to the sun and held his arms out wide. “Wind Spirits of the East, I beg
forgiveness for this failure.” Turning, he croaked, “Wind Spirits of the South,
I beg...”
He rasped his plea to
the remaining directions and the spirits who dwelled there, and then addressed
the mound and the body that lay within, “Aiyanna my love, my heart. I have
watched over you through time but I can watch no longer. Please forgive me, I
have failed you….” His throat choked close. Swallowing hard, he whispered to
the earth that half-covered his wife, “Again.”
Kneeling
beside the dirt-encrusted bones, he pulled the cover away to expose them fully.
The small bones of the baby he knew laid with its mother had dissolved in the
acids of the soil. Gently digging through the loam between the exposed rib
bones, his fingers found the bird stone, its cord long since returned to the
earth. Holding it now, he remembered...
<>
Aiyanna
dabbed the freshly-sutured skin on his back with a wash of nettle juice followed
by freshly-dug blue mud from the riverbank, a treatment her river people always
used to heal deep wounds. “These are worse than the last, Ash. Your muscle is
torn this time.”
The sting momentarily
stole his breath but Aiyanna’s skillful application of cool mud quickly eased
the discomfort. This poultice she covered with a dressing of soft rabbit skin then
secured all with leather strips that went under Ash’s arms and around his
chest.
Soothed under her
loving touch, he stifled a weary yawn. After three days without sleep, under
the dark of a moonless sky, Eluwilussit, his teacher in ways of the Midewin
spirit path, had prepared Ash by piercing the flesh above his shoulder blades
with sharpened bone. The skewers were secured to a rope of braided moose hair
attached to a bent and supple sapling. He’d hung there with warm blood running
down the backs of his legs, his mind enveloped in a haze of pain.
His hand went to the
smooth stone he wore on a cord around his neck. He knew Eluwilussit’s extreme
method was not needed to take him to the White World. Carved by the esteemed elder’s
own hand, this gift from old Nawkaw could fly his mind there. Beside
instructions for its use, Nawkaw had made it very clear that Eluwilussit must
never know how to use the stone. The reason for secrecy was not revealed nor
had there been time to ask; for the very next day Nawkaw had died in his sleep.
Sadness took Ash’s mind. He missed his dear old teacher.
His training in ways of
spirit abruptly ended that day. Eluwilussit assumed Nawkaw’s place as their
clan’s Manidoowadizi and inexplicably denied further training to Ash. Driven to
learn all that was necessary to heal and minister to his people, he traveled first
to the Goose clan and then to the Otter clan to learn from their medicine men.
Returning home three years later, he was surprised to find Eluwilussit eager to
resume the training that had been left unfinished with old Nawkaw’s unexpected
passing. It made sense at the time to accept Eluwilussit’s offer for the man
was fully trained by Nawkaw.
And nearly a full year
later, this was a bargain Ash regretted. Having given his word to Eluwilussit
to take the training without question, Ash endured torture. Pain, according to
his new teacher, opened the mind to the Great Mystery and though it divine
messages would come. This teaching was beyond Ash’s comprehension because
gentle old Nawkaw would never have used such methods nor would the Goose and
Otter clans’ Manidoowadizii.
Aiyanna’s grandfather
Wynono was the Medicine Man of the Otter clan. The elder had been good friends with Nawkaw and more
than once he’d voiced his disapproval of Eluwilussit’s harsh method of teaching
spirit ways. But one man did not tell another how to teach, especially one
Medicine Man to another of a different clan. That was for the Sky Father to
determine. The most Wynono could do was teach Ash the Otter clan way to spirit.
The gentle path to
spirit was not enough for Eluwilussit. The man was driven to push Ash to the
White World through abstention from food, water, and sleep. Twice now the
lessons involved intense pain. This time, like the last, the Medicine Man
thrust sharpened bone pins through his skin. And sure enough the Manitou spoke
to his pain-altered mind and told Ash that as long as he walked the truest
path, no request would be denied. He had asked for the wisdom to do his best
for his people and his wife. The embodiment of God said, “Ashkewheteasu, why do
you ask nothing for yourself?”
Ash replied, “Because,
Sky Father, caring for them is enough.”
The Manitou spoke
again. “The way is not always clear nor is it free of pain, but time brings
understanding of all things.” Then silence.
The message received,
Ash’s legs buckled under his exhausted and weakened body. Consciousness left
him as he collapsed to the ground, tearing the pins from his flesh as he did.
Aiyanna kissed his
neck. “There, the river’s blue clay will help you heal. Is this necessary, my love?
My uncle set the pins too deep this time.”
They were deep and
extremely painful. Though her tender care brought slight ease to the pain, he
felt the throbbing ache of his wounds all the way to his fingertips. He said,
“Your uncle is Manidoowadizi now and I have given my word to take the training
as he decides. I do not know if this path is necessary, but my word holds me to
it. As it was, the pain brought me before the Sky Father again.”
As though he lurked
outside and overheard the conversation, Eluwilussit entered the wigwam
uninvited, asking with no little surprise, “What is this you say? You were
before the Manitou and He spoke to you? And what do you mean ... again?”
“Indeed. My mind was
opened in my pain, this time as the last.” Eluwilussit didn’t meet Ash’s eyes;
his gaze remained on the bird stone. There was something in the way the man
stared at the stone that brought disquiet to Ash’s mind and the words of old
Nawkaw returned sharply. “Never let Eluwilussit know that you understand how
the bird stone is used.” For the first time, he wondered if the man knew its
secret magic.
Eluwilussit pressed, “You
did not mention this to me. What did Sky Father tell you?”
Ash looked at the
shaman. Eluwilussit’s odd red birthmark just below his eye appeared even more spider-like
in the partial light streaming through the wigwam’s bark walls. “Such a
conversation is private, is it not?”
Eluwilussit smiled. “It
might be, yes. But I am your teacher. We have agreed that I should know these
things.”
Eluwilussit’s training
felt wrong to his mind from the very beginning. Harsh from the onset, the man’s
lessons became brutal after Ash visited the Otter clan last summer and brought
Aiyanna home as his wife. He was about to tell him his conversation with the
Manitou when a thought suddenly entered his mind: Tell no one the Sky Father’s
exact words. Old Nawkaw had told him such an inspired thought always came from
the Sky Father himself and must be heeded. So amending what he was about to
say, Ash told him instead, “Sky Father said, ‘No request would be denied.’”
Eluwilussit’s eyes grew
bright. “There will be further knowledge for us! You must experience another
ordeal, tomorrow night.”
Laying a hand on Ash’s
upper arm, Aiyanna shook her head at the elder. “His wounds are not healed,
Uncle. Surely this can wait for the next dark of the moon.”
Eluwilussit’s eyes
challenged his pupil, but his gentle words were directed at his niece by
marriage, “But my dear omiimii, who
knows best? A woman or an initiate of the Midewin?”
Covering his wife’s
hand with his own, Ash said, “I have given my word to take your uncle’s
training my love. I must do this.”
Eluwilussit reached
forward and rubbed her arm in a gesture of affection. “See, omiimii? Ashkewheteasu is a man who
knows what must be done.”
Feeling his wife’s
discomfort through the hand he held, Ash sought to speed the man on his way. He
assured his teacher, “I will be ready.”
Eluwilussit gave a
satisfied nod and winked at Aiyanna before leaving them.
Leading her to stand
before him, Ash met her frown.
She shook her head. “I
do not believe he cares what Sky Father has to say to you. To me it appears he
is interested in a clear path to the White World.”
While Aiyanna’s
insightful words rang true, the truth in them made no sense. Ash couldn’t
imagine what Eluwilussit was looking for. Was it possible the man forgot his
training? “It appears so, yes. But a clear path already exists to him. As
Manidoowadizi he only needs to open his mind to travel to the White World, and
once there, the ancestors will answer any question he asks.”
“He asks too much…”
He met his wife’s
lovely brown eyes. “Eluwilussit is Manidoowadizi of the Bear clan now. I wish
it were otherwise but it is not. Yes, I too believe he asks too much but I have
given my word to learn all he can teach me without question.”
“But—”
“But, I have much to
learn if I am to look after our people as my heart says I must.”
She absently rubbed her
arm where the other man had touched her. “I know this, my love, but there is
jealousy in his eyes when he looks at you. Others have seen it as well and this
brings me worry.”
He considered her
words. Ash knew his people quietly speculated on the reason Aiyanna’s aunt
Bemidii had left Eluwilussit, her husband. Many noticed his outward attraction
to his niece. This was obvious. Ash saw it clearly today when the man’s eyes
and hand caressed her. He heard it in his voice when Eluwilussit called her his
dear little dove. When this training ended, he would take his wife to live with
her Otter clan. Until then, his life was in Eluwilussit’s hands and he would
take part in the training as it was given, no matter what was asked. Pushing
the thought of her uncle aside, Ash undid Aiyanna’s laces and gently pulled the
leather garment from her shoulders. Splaying his fingers over the rounded bump
of her belly, he leaned his forehead against her. Her fingers combed through
his hair.
He kissed his unborn
child nestled safe and warm within her, and whispered softly, “Sky Father
smiled the day you were born, and smiles on me every day since my eyes first
touched upon you.”
Lifting his head with
both hands, she kissed him before murmuring at his lips, “Ah, you love me
then?”
He smiled. She always
asked just like that and he always answered the same, “More than love you.”
Kissing her lips and cheeks and chin, his hands stroked her belly. “I will love
you forever.”
Aiyanna
smiled against his lips. “Forever is a very long time, my love.”
<>
Ash squeezed his eyes
closed. He rarely allowed himself to remember that old life, and this fading
memory sat like a burning coal in his heart. Yanking a dried nettle stem from
the ground, he pulled the fibers apart and deftly made a length of cordage. Testing
it for strength, he strung the carved bird stone and tied it around his neck.
Kneeling beside the
skeletal remains, Ash dusted his hands in the soil around the bones and rubbed
the precious dirt over his face and chest in renewed mourning. Tears of grief
leaving muddy streaks down his face, he took a deep breath and focused his
mind. Fur and claws appeared as his body reduced in size and once more the wolf
stood where a man had been but a moment ago.
Here's the trailer ~
[]
And here's the true root of the story at USA Today -- The Witchy Wolf and the Wendigo
Just released!
The Witchy Wolf and the Wendigo
(Book 2 Eluwilussit)
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00BRWJMU4
The Witchy Wolf and the Wendigo
(Book 2 Eluwilussit)
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00BRWJMU4
۞>>>>۞<<<<۞
For updates on my novels insights into the publishing world, visit my everyday blog. Find tips and tricks, the captured mood of the day, notable
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Rose Anderson – Love Waits in Unexpected Places
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and I'll be here for the Authors in Bloom Blog Hop
April 10th – 19th
April 10th – 19th