I'm still hoofing it, putting one foot in front of the other since I retired on June 6, 2012. It's been quite a while since I updated my walking progress. On August 15th, I passed through Sismiut, Greenland, and I'm now slogging toward Ikerasaarsuk, Greenland.
Glaciers Flowing to the Sea
Flying on Norwegian Airlines and
Looking Toward the Southwestern Coast of Greenland
Actually, I began "my walk" on my third day of retirement, because I was exhausted at the end of my last year of teaching. Too many bouts of internal bleeding had forced me to retire, and my first goal in retirement was to regain my health. On my first day of retirement, June 7, 2012, I put one foot in front of the other and started walking a few circles around the kitchen, dining room, and living room. On my third day of retirement, June 9, 2012, I felt rested enough to tackle a walk along Piney Creek, and I decided that I was going to walk from my home in Aurora, Colorado to St. Anthony, Newfoundland. I began adding up the miles I walked on trails near my home and plotting them on a map from my front doorstep, to the highway, and on to I-70 and Kansas. It took me until September 23, 2017 to "walk" (1933 days) the 3423 miles (5509 kilometers) from Aurora to St. Anthony, an average of 1.7 miles/day (2.7 kilometers/day).
My plan was to return to St. Anthony to celebrate my accomplishment and to take a new photo at my "finish line." The only photo I have was taken the summer before I retired. I'm still waiting to physically return to St. Anthony and get that photo. I picked a second goal, that of walking to Ittoqqortoormiit, one of the most remote towns in Greenland. One of Pat Hatt's posts in It's Rhyme Time gave me the idea.
So I "turned around" in St. Anthony and started hoofing it for St. Barbe, Newfoundland, the ferry to Labrador, and on to Red Bay, Labrador City, and Killiniq.
The Ferry to Labrador
St. Barbe, Great Northern Peninsula, Newfoundland, Canada
I made it to Killiniq, Nunavut on October 8, 2018 just two weeks after flying over Greenland, the Labrador Sea, and the Gray Strait and imagining that I could see Killiniq Island on the horizon.
Quelques bâtiments du village abandonné de Killiniq
situé sur la rive du chenal McLelan.
(Some buildings in the abandoned village of Killiniq
located on the shore of McLelan Channel.)
La photo a été prise au mois d’août 1992
(The photo was taken in August, 1992)
After flying over Greenland, I thought Why walk straight to Ittoqqortoormiit? Why not circumnavigate the world's largest island? So on October 9, 2018, I strapped on my Jesus Boots and headed across the Labrador Sea for Prins Christianssund at the southernmost tip of Greenland. Then I started walking clockwise for Narsaq Kujalleq, measuring my distances in straight lines, because the western coast of Greenland is rugged.
Somehow, someway, when this pandemic is over, I'm going to return to St. Anthony and Labrador and visit Greenland. Meanwhile, I'm still walking and recording the miles. As of Labor Day, I've walked a total distance of 6697 miles/10777.7 kilometers, including 3273.39 miles/5268 kilometers of walking to Ittoqqortoormiit. Wish me luck!
I have a lot of engineers among my friends and extended family. They are fascinating creatures.
They are calm, methodical, and organized. They write numbers and letters in neat, organized rows and columns. They use tools and get calculus. They look before they leap. They solve problems. They can sometimes put this non-engineer over the edge with statements like, "That makes no logical sense, Louise."
A Favorite Engineer in My Life!
News Flash! I make sense to me. I'm doing just fine, thank you! I love to poke engineers, just to see what happens. So tonight I'm going to have fun, poking fun at them!
A big thank you to my awesome brother-in-law Martin
It's the first Wednesday of the month, the day that members of the Insecure Writer's Support Group share their writing struggles and writing successes and offer their encouragement and support to fellow writers.
To visit the IWSG website, click here. To become a member of the IWSG, click here. Our wonderful co-hosts who are volunteering today, along with IWSG Founder Alex Cavanaugh are P.J. Colando,J. Lenni Dorner, Deniz Devan, Kim Lajevardi, Natalie Aguirre, and Louise - Fundy Blue. I hope you have a chance to visit today's hosts and thank them for co-hosting. I'm sure they would appreciate a visit and an encouraging comment. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Every month the IWSG announces a question that members can answer with advice, insight, a personal experience, or a story in their IWSG posts. Or, the question can inspire members if they aren't sure what to write about on IWSG Day. Remember the question is optional. This month's featured question is: "If you could choose one author, living or dead, to be your beta partner, who would it be and why?"
I hope that you and your loved ones are safe, healthy, and happy.
What a tough question this month! There are so many amazing authors to chose from, but if I had to pick one I'd pick Stephen King. Some of his books I flat out didn't like, but others are brilliant. The Shining, The Stand, It, Misery,Dolores Claiborne, and 11/22/63 are among my favorites, and I return to his On Writing over and over for inspiration and writing advice. Why would I choose him as a Beta reader? That man can plot, create unforgettable, complex characters, and write marvelous dialogue. I think I could learn a whole lot from him and my writing would really improve. My only concern is that he has spent so much time exploring the dark psychology of humans and imaging horrifying things that he might be scary and intimidating ~ LOL! I'm keeping this short as I write tonight, because this is my 36th wedding anniversary! The best decision I ever made in my life was to marry this wonderful man.
Last November I read a fascinating book with a most unlikely heroine: Xhosa.
Xhosa? Her name should be your first clue that this is no ordinary heroine.
I love a fierce story with a strong female protagonist, and Jacqui Murray delivered an unforgettable one in Xhosa in Survival of the Fittest.
Not only was this novel a great read, it filled my geological and paleontological heart. It was the first book in Jacqui Murray's Crossroads trilogy, a series set 850,000 years ago during a time in prehistory when man populated most of Eurasia. I loved that Xhosa was a female Homo erectus. Homo erectus is considered the most long-lived of all the hominid species and lived throughout most of the Pleistocene Epoch, appearing about 2 million years ago and lasting until 50,000 to 100,000 years ago.
Right now I am anxiously waiting for the doorbell to ring and a thud on the doorstep as the last two books in Jacqui's trilogy arrive: Volume 2: Quest for Home, and Volume 3: Against All Odds.
The final volume, Against All Odds, was just released, and when these two books arrive, I am going to have one fabulous prehistoric binge reading all three volumes back to back. I know this will be a great adventure, because Survival of the Fittest was excellent: a great story, unforgettable characters, and a wonderfully recreated Pleistocene world, grounded in careful research and scientific fact.
Courtesy of Jacqui Murray
A lot of readers might not be so concerned with
Jacqui's careful research and the scientific foundation for her books,
but one of the passions in my life has been paleontology,
and I have long been fascinated with the history of humankind.
I am extra critical of prehistoric books and movies,
because too many of them are ridiculous.
Jacqui's prehistoric writing delights me and definitely meets my smell test!
Working on a Duck-Billed Dinosaur (Edmontosaurus)
Me Volunteering, Fossil Lab, Denver Museum of Nature & Science
A million years of evolution made Xhosa tough but was it enough? She and her People finally reach their destination—a glorious land of tall grasses, few predators, and an abundance that seems limitless, but an enemy greater than any they have met so far threatens to end their dreams. If Xhosa can’t stop this one, she and her People must again flee.
The Crossroads trilogy is set 850,000 years ago, a time in prehistory when man populated most of Eurasia. He was a violent species, fully capable of addressing the many hardships that threatened his survival except for one: future man, a smarter version of himself, one destined to obliterate all those who came before.
From prehistoric fiction author Jacqui Murray comes the unforgettable saga of a courageous woman who questions assumptions, searches for truth, and does what she must despite daunting opposition. Read the final chapter of her search for freedom, safety, and a new home.
A perfect book for fans of Jean Auel and the Gears!
Courtesy of Jacqui Murray
One thing that I particularly appreciated about Xhosa and the other characters
was how authentic they felt, like like they were truly H. erectus
and not more modern people fitted into a Prehistoric mold.
The way Murray has her characters functioning in this long ago time,
their rudimentary culture, their communication,
their ability to adapt and survive in a violent and treacherous world,
was a marvelous construction of how alike and unlike they are from modern H. sapiens.
I thought Murray's use of smell as a form of communication was brilliant!
A Model of the Face of an Adult Female Homo erectus
Hall of Human Origins in the Smithsonian Museum of Natural History in Washington, D.C.
Reconstruction by John Gurche; photographed by Tim Evanson
about her latest release and the Crossroads trilogy:
What is the meaning of the term “People” (and why is it capitalized)?
The label “People” applies to a collection of individuals with shared common experiences, culture, and beliefs. Why is it capitalized? Because it is the proper noun for the community, like “Americans” or “Englishmen”. In general, capital letters denote Xhosa’s respect for the species and belief that they are equal to her. You’ll see this with many animal names, also.
How do you know these People are as smart as they seem?
Just to be clear, because these predecessors to man lived long before recorded history, scientists have no definitive evidence of their intelligence. We do get hints of its excellence, though, from their toolmaking. The complex thought required to create their stone tools (called Acheulean), the variety of tool types (cutters, choppers, handaxes, cleavers, flakes, scrapers, and more), and their aesthetically pleasing and functional forms make many paleoanthropologists believe Homo erectus was cerebrally smart. A 2017 study mapped the brains of students as they recreated these same tools and it showed that the work required higher-level motor skills and the ability to ‘hold in mind’ information—much as you do to plan and complete complex tasks (the study compared it to playing Chopin on the piano but I have no idea about that).
A Cordiform Biface as Commonly Found in the Acheulean (replica)
In this trilogy, “said” is generic for communicating. It could be verbal but is more likely to be gestures, body language, or facial expressions. I also often use “motioned” and “gestured” to indicate hand signals that communicate their words.
Their speech is surprisingly erudite.
As a species, Homo erectus lasted far longer than any other Homo species for a reason: They were not only highly intelligent for the day but made use of rich communication skills. Their sophisticated tools, especially the symmetry of the hand-axe, suggests to many scientists that they could use sophisticated communication. Because the capacity to “speak” with voices remains a hotly-debated topic, with opinions divided on whether the “speech” part of their brain—that allowed them to speak—was evolved enough for verbal words, I present communication often as body language with limited speech.
A persuasive argument of why early man didn’t want to talk with his voice is that these sounds are noisy and unnatural. That attracts unwanted attention from would-be predators. For these primordial humans, far from the alpha in the food chain, being noticed wasn’t good.
Jacqui is one of those people who blows me away with her accomplishments.
She is the editor author, and co-author of over 100 books, including the popular Building a Midshipman, the story of her daughter’s journey from high school to United States Naval Academy, the Rowe-Delamagente thrillers, and the Man vs. Nature saga.
She is also adjunct professor of technology in education,
blog webmaster, an Amazon Vine Voice, a columnist for NEA Today,
and a freelance journalist on tech ed topics.
Look for her next prehistoric fiction, Laws of Nature, Book 2 in the Dawn of Humanity trilogy, Winter 2021.
*****
So, if you're looking for a great read, I definitely
recommend all of the Crossroad trilogy from beginning to end!
Happy reading!
Additional Information about Jacqui Murray and her Crossroads trilogy: For Map Lovers Like Me:
An epic journey as Xhosa travels from Africa, through the Levant,
across Europe, over the Pyrenees, to Spain
Book information:
Title and author: Against All Odds by Jacqui Murray
Series: Book 3 in the Crossroads series
Genre: Prehistoric fiction
PublisherStructured Learning LLC, 2020
ISBN1942101449, 9781942101444
Length314 pages
SubjectsFiction › Historical › General
Available digitally (print soon) at: Kindle USKindle UKKindle CAKindle AU
They came out of the mountains, hair frozen in sparkling strands, hands and feet wrapped in shredded pelts, ribs etched against their skin under ragged hides white with snow, faces haggard with fatigue. Blood crusted scrapes and gashes, many recent, others almost healed, reminders of the violent struggles endured on their journey.
Though their steps flagged, not one of these upright creatures exhibited a hint of defeat. All males and a few females carried at least one spear, some two, many with warclubs strapped to their backs. Despite the anxiety and fear of entering this foreign land, hope energized them today, that their migration might be at an end.
All of them—Xhosa and her tribe, Pan-do and his, Wind, Zvi, and Seeker—had been chased from their homes by enemies. In their flight, they found each other. It took time to work through their differences but now they traveled side by side, respected ideas not theirs, and called themselves the People.
Their charismatic Leaders—Xhosa, Wind, and Pan-do—were known as reliable friends to those who earned their trust and dangerous enemies to those who opposed them. Two wolves—Spirit and Black Wolf—journeyed with them. Though the People lacked the animals’ sharp claws, dense fur, and piercing teeth, each considered the other “pack” and would defend them to death.
The exhausted group straggled down the gently sloping flank, feet shuffling carefully over the slippery scree. The ground changed from talus to stunted tufts of grass, sparse and brown which made walking easier. Optimism shone from their faces even as their tired eyes flicked side to side in search of unexpected movement, ears strained for out-of-place noises, and noses sniffed.
Rather than continue across the meadow, Xhosa led the People into the shade of the edging forest.
“Do you smell it, Wind?” Anticipation filled her gestures.
She and Wind, pairmates as well as Co-Leaders, stood quietly, absorbing their surroundings. Light filtered lazily through the canopy, the shadowed ground dappled with patches of warmth. She sniffed in the essence of wet earth and rotting leaves, the mustiness of moss, and something else much more enticing.
“It’s there.” She pointed and strode forward, lengthening her stride.
An icy gust whipped down the hillside through the shadows and raised bumps on her arms but she ignored it. The forest gave way to open sky and searing heat. It was too hot for her thin pelt but she didn’t stop to remove it. Green stalks swayed as far as she could see, edged on one side by more mountains and the other by some sort of leaves and branches. Sunlight glinted off the rippled surface of a distant river as it curled over the terrain.
“Dung!” The scent overpowered every other odor.
Wind huffed to her side. “It’s been a long time since we smelled dung that wasn’t frozen.”
“We did it, Wind.” Her eyes glistened with relief.
For most of a Moon, dread gnawed at her courage and left her wondering if following the guidance of Seeker—a boy barely a man—was a mistake. But Seeker assured her in his ebullient way that once out of the hills, their new homebase would welcome them. Xhosa wanted to believe him because she wasn’t sure what else to do. Nor did she know what to do if it didn’t work.
Siri, Pan-do, Ngili, the wolves Spirit and Black Wolf, and the rest of the People gathered around Xhosa and Wind, eyes locked on what lay in front of them.
Pan-do whispered, “We made it.” His eyes were moist, mouth open.
Ngili, the People’s Lead Hunter, motioned, hands close to his body. “With all this grass, Gazelle or Mammoth must be nearby.”
Dust, the Lead Scout, trotted up, coming from a tall cliff far ahead on their forward path. “I think there are caves there.”
The People hadn’t slept in a cave since leaving Viper and the Mountain Dwellers. It would be a treat if true.
Xhosa looked behind. Shadows already stretched as far from the bottom of the rocky slopes as sunlight to the top. Daylight would soon end.
“We don’t have much time. Let’s rest and then see if those are caves.”
Ngili, the People’s Lead Hunter, motioned, fingers spaced out, palms up, “I’ll go with Dust to check.” He added a swift spread-fingered swipe with first one hand and then the other, followed by a quick bob of his head and a puff.
Xhosa brushed both hands down her sides. Go.
The People spoke with a complex combination of hand motions, facial expressions, body movements, and sounds augmented with chirrups, snaps, hisses, and whistles. By the time Ngili finished talking, Xhosa knew how many would join him, where they would go, and how long they’d be away. The People’s communication was sophisticated but quiet, a precaution especially in unfamiliar areas. Unusual sounds—voices, for example—stood out. All animals made noises but few as varied as the People’s. Why alert Others who lived here to their presence? Xhosa would do that in her own time, in her own way.
Dust, Ngili, and two scouts soon receded into the landscape, the only evidence of their passage a slight disturbance in the slender waving stalks. Despite the dung scents, the abundant plant food, and the glisten of a faraway river, Xhosa crossed her arms over her chest and paced.
Something is wrong.
She searched the forests and the rippling field that had swallowed up Dust and Ngili . Xhosa possessed the ability to see great distances in sufficient detail to find trails, footprints, movement, or the glitter of sun off eyes.
She saw none of those and that made her more uncomfortable.
With this wealth of food and water, Others should be here.
Wind motioned, palms flattened against his chest, “The mountains we crossed touched Sun. They’re cold and barren. Few can do what we did to get here, Xhosa. We are safe.”
Xhosa could hear in his voice, see in his gestures, that despite his bravado, Wind too felt uneasy about what they didn’t see and hear.
But she grinned. “I don’t know how I survived without someone being able to read my thoughts.”
She trotted over to a stream that fed into the river she had noticed. She stretched out on her belly, flat on the soft grass at the water’s edge, and took a long, satisfying drink of the sweet liquid. Thirst quenched, she collected handfuls of the tender shoots of new plants growing along the shore, ate what she wanted and tossed the rest into a communal food pile that would be shared with all the People. It was already filling up with fat fish speared from the slow-moving pools beside the river, tasty reeds and cattails, and even a handful of eggs plucked from nests not hidden well enough along the shore and in the roots of trees. The wolves snapped birds from the air and swallowed them almost whole, coughing up feathers.
Xhosa leaned back on her hands, sniffing the unique fragrance of each groupmember. Zvi was sweaty from wrestling with Spirit. Siri smelled sourly of hunger but she wouldn’t eat until Honey’s bleeding foot was wrapped in mulch and leaves. The females with new babies exuded the pleasant aroma of milk. Some scents jumbled together making them impossible to identify. When Xhosa became Leader of the People, before it merged with Pan-do’s and Hawk’s, the People had been small enough that she could recognize everyone by their odor. Now, she kept track of her tribe while Pan-do did the same with his. Wind helped everyone.
Done eating, the People sprawled on the warm ground, soaking up Sun’s remaining rays, chatting contentedly with gestures and the occasional sigh. Water dripped from their thawing bodies, soaking into the thirsty ground, as the remaining ice and snow on their pelts and in their hair melted away.
Xhosa and Wind sat apart from the others, on a log long ago softened by rot. She uprooted handfuls of grass and wiped the sweat from Wind’s body, as he did hers. The soft scratch felt good and the earthy fragrance reminded her of times long gone. When he finished, she harvested chunks of green moss from the log’s decaying bark and stuffed them into her neck sack. All the People wore one of these around their necks. Even the wolves did when they were migrating.
Finished, she leaned against Wind and closed her eyes. In a group of Others, her pairmate stood out. A Big Head, the People’s traditional enemy, the ones who drove Xhosa and her tribe from their long-established home, Wind had earned Xhosa’s trust by saving her life more than once and then, as a member of her People, sharing Big Head spear tricks and warrior skills with her Leads. Before long, each of them individually told her that thanks to Wind they could now defeat an attack which they couldn’t have done in the past. Whatever distrust her People harbored toward him faded away.
“Xhosa!” Dust panted up to her. “I found a cave. And we found trace of a herd. Ngili is tracking it.”
By the time Sun settled into its night nest, the People were ensconced in the cave Dust found. They had to squeeze together to fit but all were thrilled to sleep without waking to frozen toes and numb fingers. Stone and Zvi—the burliest of the People—lugged rocks in and Siri built a fire that quickly warmed the interior. The subadults gathered kindling to feed it and arranged who would be responsible throughout the night for keeping it lit.
Usually, the wolves slept scattered among the People but with Black Wolf close to delivering her pups, she dug out an opening in the back and claimed it as her den. Then she settled to her belly, one leg forward, the other bent back, eyebrows twitching.
Xhosa strode toward the nest she would share with Wind but stopped at the sight of Seeker, weight on his bottom, legs crossed in front of his body in the uncomfortable position he preferred. His pairmate Lyta curled next to him with their best friend, Zvi.
Xhosa approached Seeker. “You are not outside.”
Every night as long as Xhosa could remember, the enigmatic male lay on his back, gaze fixed steadily on the star-dotted sky, spouting what to Xhosa sounded like gibberish to whoever listened. Intermittently, he leapt to his feet and spun dizzying circles or bounced from one foot to the other, huffing and chirping. Lyta and Zvi would either join him or watch. He once explained to Xhosa that this was how he studied the changes in the night sky—the appearance and disappearance of particular stars or their movement in relation to each other—so he could guide the People accurately. This nightly process was how they had moved from the distant start of Endless Pond to this cave where Endless Pond seemed to end.
He didn’t respond to her statement, didn’t even acknowledge her. That worried Xhosa. She hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that danger lurked around them, somewhere. Seeker’s anxious look didn’t help.
She squatted at his side and added a question to her declaration. “The stars aren’t talking to you?”
To the side, Lyta wriggled, not comfortable in the seated position Seeker preferred but determined to try because Seeker liked it so much. Zvi crouched on the balls of her feet, the more traditional pose. She’d tried to sit on her bottom, legs crossed in front, but kept falling backward. Besides, it took her too long to rise from that position which meant if Lyta needed help, she couldn’t respond quickly. Squatting, for her, made more sense. Seeker didn’t care. He expected all to do what worked for them. Both his best friend and his future pairmate were long accustomed to his eccentricities.
Finally, Seeker offered Xhosa only a confused frown.
That’s not a “Yes they are,” and that raised the hair on her neck. Before she could ask more, Ngili scrambled through the thistle barrier the youngsters had placed around the cave’s mouth to prevent the entrance of intruders and hurried toward Xhosa.
He motioned, “I lost the herd’s trace in the dark. I’ll try again tomorrow,” and then raced toward where the hunters had gathered. They were all tired. Some would mate before sleeping but not Ngili. He hadn’t given up hope that his pairmate, Hecate, would come back.
After a final glance at Seeker, Xhosa joined Wind in their nest. She squatted behind him and teased the dirt and debris from his long head hair, occasionally focusing on a difficult tangle until her fingers could move easily through his hair. When she finished, he did the same for her.
As he groomed, he said, “I’ll join Ngili tomorrow. If there are herds, we will find them.”
“Pan-do and I will continue with the People.”
They said nothing more, both enjoying the calming feel of nails scratching on their skin and the intimacy of someone they trusted implicitly. Done, both fell asleep.
The first rays of daylight filtered into the cave. Black Wolf was already outside, padding back and forth restlessly, huffing uncomfortably. Wind left with Ngili and a handful of scouts, knowing Xhosa would leave a trail to wherever they settled when Sun’s light ran out. Though Spirit usually went with the hunters, today he stayed with Black Wolf.
Xhosa and Pan-do led. Dust copied their pace and direction but a distance away. With Ngili and Wind searching for meat, Xhosa focused on finding a cave large enough for the People. They strode onward, gaze sweeping the landscape, everyone grazing on berries, roots, and worms as they walked. Sporadically, Xhosa heard a faraway squawk or glimpsed a covey of birds as they exploded into flight, fleeing an unknown threat. It was the direction Ngili and Wind had gone, and told her how far they’d gotten.
The People rested by a waterhole. They searched its shoreline for prints but found none. Wherever the herds lived, they didn’t drink here so the People moved on, through copses of young saplings and around a bed of haphazardly-strewn boulders. The air tasted of flowers, warm earth, and the mild tang of salt, but the dung they found was hard and old.
Xhosa touched Pan-do’s hand and both stopped, eyes forward. “Do you smell that? It reminds me of Endless Pond.”
He pointed to his strong side and the direction they were walking. “From there and there. How can it be on two sides?”
Xhosa tingled. One of her People—Rainbow—had abandoned them long ago, taking many males and females with him. Others she and her People ran into while migrating here told her Rainbow traveled the same route she did but along the opposite shore of Endless Pond. For him, as for her, this was as far as he could go without folding back on himself.
If they got this far. If any survived.
She pushed aside those thoughts. Before searching for whatever remnants remained of Rainbow’s group, the People must find a homebase. All they suffered to get here—the interminable walking, the loss of Hawk, the death of groupmembers, Nightshade’s treachery—was for naught if they didn’t establish a home.
Spirit bumped her leg. Black Wolf panted at her mate’s side, her belly almost touching the ground.
Xhosa motioned, “Your mate’s pups won’t wait much longer. We will find a den for her.”
Spirit took off, his movements graceful and fluid with Black Wolf lumbering after him.
Not much later, Pan-do squinted ahead. “I think Spirit found a cave.”
Xhosa leaned forward, narrowing her gaze, and finally saw where Spirit stopped. He sat on his haunches at the base of a cliff, facing her, nose twitching, tail swishing the dirt behind him.
It took the rest of the day to cross over the craggy scrubland, up and down the deep ravines, and around the occasional spot of slippery ice. The cave proved too small for the People but not for Black Wolf’s needs. With much scuffling and panting, she created a nest for her pups and disappeared into the cool dark hole. The People settled outside, under an overhang that would protect them from rain and predators, and far enough away to not bother the new mother. As soon as Ngili and Wind arrived, shaking their heads that they hadn’t found a herd, they left again to search for signs of a trail left by former inhabitants of this cave.
Xhosa’s chest squeezed and her stomach knotted. Spirit padded up to her side, hackles puffed, nostrils flaring. He agreed. Something about this area made her tingle but for now, until Black Wolf finished, they must stay.
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