Bonnie Leon

Ashberry Lane

© 2015 by Bonnie Leon

Published by Ashberry Lane

P.O. Box 665, Gaston, OR 97119

www.ashberrylane.com

Also available in print

Smashwords Edition

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 without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in

printed reviews.

All characters and some locations appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or

dead, or places is purely coincidental.

Published in association with Wendy Lawton of Books & Such Literary Agency.

ISBN 978-1-941720-01-1

Library of Congress Control Number: 2015946444

Cover design by Miller Media Solutions

Photos from www.istockphoto.com

Scripture quotations are taken from the Holy Bible, New Living Translation, © 1996, 2004, 2007 by Tyndale House

Foundation. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Carol Stream, Illinois 60188. All rights

reserved.

FICTION / Women’s Fiction / Christian Romance

About the Book

Twenty-two-year-old Claire Murray has suffered from a mysterious disease for years. Her social

circle has shrunk to a small support group for people with chronic illness and disability. But what

if life could be about more than doctors, pain, and medications?

Claire and three others—old grouch Tom, hippy-holdout Willow, and moody Taylor—hatch

plans for a cross-country trip to swim with the dolphins in Florida. Only a day into the trip, they

unexpectedly need help. And who happens to be hitchhiking along the highway but a young,

good-looking loner named Sean Sullivan? However, the last thing he wants is to be harnessed to

a bunch of ailing travelers.

Though the journey proves difficult, following God’s plan might be even harder. Will they find

the courage to follow their dreams and dare to live again?

Sign up at www.ashberrylane.com to hear about more Heartfelt Tales of Faith!

In Memory

of

My sister Leslie

Dedicated to my courageous daughter Sarah

CHAPTER ONE

Claire Murray headed for the barn, a burst of cold air lifting her long blonde hair and tossing it into her

face. Pulling it back into a ponytail, she glanced at a darkening sky, her cane propped against her leg.

Hopefully a powerful spring storm would soon rumble through the rolling countryside of Southern

Oregon.

She opened the door and stepped inside. The smell of hay and horse swept out to meet her like a

wave of comfort. Drawing the door closed, she hitched it up a notch to make sure it fell into place and

couldn’t swing open.

In the peak of the rafters, a shadow of an owl moved. A sparrow darted to a place beneath the eaves

where a nest was tucked out of sight. Soon there would be chirping fledglings courageously making their

first flight.

Claire breathed in the familiar. Did she have the courage to venture out from the place that had been

her refuge for the last twenty-two years?

A soft nicker came from the nearest stall.

Cinnamon.

Claire made her way to the horse, grabbing a handful of grain from a bucket as she passed. “Here

you go, girl.” She slipped her hand through the gate.

The big red horse snuffled the grain out of her palm.

“How are you this morning? Ready for a run, I’ll bet.” If only she could be the one riding her. “We

had some good times, didn’t we?” She stroked the horse’s heavy neck, the sound of pounding hoof beats

resonating in her mind. “I’m going to miss you.” Setting her cane against the wall, Claire opened the gate

and stepped into the stall. She stood directly in front of the big horse and placed her hands on both sides

of the animal’s face, drawing in the animal’s steadiness.

Like fresh rain, it quieted her nerves.

She ran a hand down the white blaze on the bridge of the horse’s nose, then pressed her brow against

Cinnamon’s forehead. “I’m sorry I haven’t been out to see you. It’s been a bad week.” She patted

Cinnamon’s neck and then combed out her mane with her fingers. “I’m going to be gone for a while. But

I’ll be back. I promise.”

The horse nudged her as if trying to let Claire know she understood and that it was all right for her to

go.

Claire looked into the horse’s dark brown eyes. “I hope one day we can go riding again. Maybe

things will be better when I get back.” She could almost feel the wind in her face and the movement of

Cinnamon under her as they galloped across the rolling hills of her parents’ ranch.

The sound of a car engine cut into Claire’s reverie, and a shiver of apprehension coursed through her.

Maybe she should stay.

The barn door grated as someone opened it.

Time to go.

Footsteps crunched on the barn floor and the gate creaked.

She looked around and saw her mother leaning on it. Claire gave the horse another pat. “I’m going to

miss her.”

“She’ll miss you too.” Her mom’s gaze went to the horse then back to Claire. “It’s time to go. Unless

you’ve changed your mind.”

Claire swallowed past the lump in her throat. “No. My things are ready.” She ran a hand down

Cinnamon’s face and across the velvet soft nose, then pressed a kiss to her white blaze. “I guess I have to

go now. See you soon.”

Sunlight heated the interior of her mother’s Suburban, but Claire was cold. Maybe her parents were right.

Maybe it was foolish of her to take off across the country with a band of disabled friends. She breathed

deeply, hoping to calm her nerves.

It’s going to be a real adventure.

But doubts pummeled her. So many things could go wrong.

Swimming with dolphins? Where had that idea come from? Willow. It had been Willow. Of course it

had been her. She was the dreamer in the group. Although the ideals of the ’60s had passed, she’d refused

to put aside the lifestyle and dreams of her generation.

Maybe we’re all just dreamers. Claire clenched and unclenched her hands. This was a chance of a

lifetime. If her illness got worse, it might be her only opportunity to do anything special … ever.

Claire’s mother glanced at her, knuckles whitening as she tightened her steely grip on the steering

wheel.

Should she listen to her parents? They were right—stress always worsened her symptoms. So did

fatigue. Would hours on the road drain what little energy she had? She could end up in the hospital.

But the trip could make her stronger. And wasn’t it time she faced life on her own? Twenty-two and

still living at home?

Her mother and father had spent the last several weeks trying to convince her to stay.

A month ago, her father had paced the gray carpet in the family’s front room. “It’s too risky.” A

week ago, he’d nearly walked off the roughness of the patio stones. “You’re being foolish.” And

yesterday, he’d kicked up hay dust in the barn. “What will you do if you get sick?”

Her mom remained stoically silent. But the fear in her eyes and tight set of her lips revealed her

anxiety.

Her older sister, Autumn, had understood. “It’s a great idea. Don’t give in to Mom and Dad. Do what

you want. This is your life. Not theirs.”

While Claire packed, she’d tried to shut out the negative voices. But each item she added to her

suitcase was accompanied by a reason she should stay home.

Her mother shook her head. “Why must you do something so drastic? Why not begin with something

easier? Closer to home. Maybe a trip to the coast.” Tears welled up. “I’ve already lost one daughter.” She

sucked in a breath.

“You didn’t lose Melissa. She just moved away.” And Claire had to admit she’d been glad to see her

go. Melissa’s bipolar highs and lows were hard to take and painful to watch.

“I haven’t heard a word from her since she left.”

“She’s never been good at communicating. And I’m not Melissa.”

“I know that. But you’re not well. And you barely know these people.”

“That’s not true. I’ve been meeting with them for months. I probably know them better than anyone

else, except for you and Dad and Autumn. A support group shares things with each other that they don’t

tell anyone else.”

Her mother didn’t respond. She compressed her lips and stared straight ahead.

“And while we’ve planned out this trip I’ve gotten to know them even better.” Claire folded her arms

over her chest. “I can’t let them down. It wouldn’t be right.”

Her mother’s chin quivered. “I feel like I’m losing you. Maybe you won’t come back either.”

“I’ll be back.”

A hawk circled high above a gully that fell between two hillsides.

She loved it here. This was home. She would return. “Maybe you should go out to Grand Junction

and see Melissa.”

“You know she’d hate that. She’d say I’m interfering in her life.”

A desolate silence grew inside the car. Her mother slowed as they approached town. Finally she said,

“I just never imagined you’d take off like this. Your doctor is here. What if you need medical help?” She

pressed fingertips to trembling lips. “Every single one of you is handicapped. How will you manage?”

“Willow used to be a nurse. She’ll know what to do. And we’re not handicapped. We have

challenges, but the point of the trip is to do this on our own. We need to. Every one of us is in a rut.

Maybe the trip will help us find a better life. Even Colleen, our group counselor, believes in us. She

thinks we can do it.” Claire’s own words helped bolster her confidence. “If I have a flare-up, there are

other doctors, other hospitals.” Even though she said the words with assurance, the idea of trusting

anyone other than Dr. Reynolds made her insides quake.

And what about Tom? What if he suddenly became ill, or Willow had a flare-up of her fibromyalgia

or her back gave out?

And Taylor was a mental pinball machine.

“This isn’t reasonable.” Her mother swiped at a runaway tear. “We won’t even know where you

are.”

Claire hated to see her mother anguish over this trip, but it was too important. “Mom, I’m not

moving across the galaxy. I have a cell phone and my tablet. I’ll keep you up to date on Facebook. I’ll

post lots of photos so you and Dad can see what I’m up to. And you can send me mail if you want. We’ll

have postal pickups along the way. I’ll let you know in advance where to send things.”

Her mother put on her stoic face and stared at the road. “What if something happens when you’re out

in the middle of nowhere? You’ll be on your own.”

“We’ll handle things like anyone else. We’ll call for help.” She offered what she hoped was a

heartening smile.

“It’s not funny. I’ve watched you when your dysautonomia flares up. You faint without warning and

can’t keep anything down. Every muscle aches, and your heart—”

“Mom. I know how I feel. You don’t have to remind me.” Claire turned so she faced her mother.

“Please be happy for me. The last nine years have been about being sick. I feel like I’m drowning in my

illness. This is a chance to make my life about something else.”

No response.

Perfectly groomed lawns flew by.

“You talk about faith, Mom. This will be a chance to trust God with me. I know it’s been hard for

you all these years.”

“I do trust him. But trusting doesn’t mean being foolish. He doesn’t want us to be careless with the

life he’s given us.” She tugged a Kleenex tissue from the box on the console.

“What if this is all about living out my faith?”

Her mother nodded and gently blew into the tissue. “Okay. But don’t tempt God by doing something

imprudent and then expecting him to rescue you.”

“I’ll be careful. I promise.

CHAPTER TWO

They approached Tom Cantrell’s house, and her mom pulled to the curb across the street from a large

cream-and-gray motor home with dark gray waves rolling along the sides from front to back.

Butterflies took flight in Claire’s stomach. It was really happening.

Her mother reached out and caressed Claire’s hair. “You’re so beautiful … inside and out. I don’t

know what I’d do if something happened to you.”

Claire rested a hand on her mother’s arm. “Nothing is going to happen. I’m going to be fine.”

Tears rose in her mother’s eyes, but her lips edged up in a smile. “Promise me you won’t pick up any

hitchhikers. You can’t trust anyone these days.”

“I promise.”

Tom Cantrell stood beside the coach. He wasn’t an especially tall man, maybe five foot eleven with a

slight paunch, but today he looked bigger than usual, and his deeply lined face was tanned and

untroubled. His expression was uncharacteristically pleasant. Hopefully everything he’d said about his

health and his ability to drive had been true. MS was unpredictable.

Her mom moved to the back of the Suburban and began unloading Claire’s things.

Her knees stiff and aching, she tried to hurry out of the vehicle and around to the back so she could

help. “I can get that.” She set her suitcase upright and slipped on her backpack.

“I hope you brought enough.” Her mom lifted out Claire’s walker.

“Tom said to pack light.” She eyed the wheelchair. “I don’t need the chair.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

“I’d feel better if you had it … just in case.”

Tom walked toward them, no sign of weakness in his stride. “You look pretty as a daisy,” he told

Claire with a smile.

Hmm. Tom was rarely, if ever, sweet. “Thank you. You’re looking pretty good yourself.”

“That’s what an adventure will do for you.” He turned to her mom. “Good to see you, Mrs. Murray.

I’ll get the suitcase.” He hefted it in a way that contradicted his age and physical health.

“Good morning, Tom. Can you talk some sense into this girl? She really should take her

wheelchair.”

Tom turned to Claire. “Do you need it?” Deep furrows lined his brow.

“Almost never, just on especially bad days.”

“It’s up to you.”

Claire studied the chair dubiously. “I don’t want to take it.” She chewed on her lip. “But all right.

Just in case.”

“Okay then.” Tom set the suitcase down and lifted the chair out of the back of the Suburban.

“I can push it.” Claire opened the chair and dropped her pack on the seat. She draped her cane over

the back.

Her mother carried the walker.

Tom stowed the chair in one of the massive compartments beneath the vehicle. He lifted his glasses

off his nose and glanced down the road. “We’re all set, just waiting for Willow. Taylor’s on board—and

manic if you ask me. She has her nose in that computer of hers, charting our route or something. Says she

has our route all mapped out. I’m about ready to put a stop to that.” He wore a determined grin as he

climbed up the steps, dragging Claire’s large bag behind him.

“Don’t you have GPS?” her mother asked, voice sounding slightly shrill.

“Yeah, but it’s on the fritz. I meant to get it fixed.”

“You meant to?”

“Don’t get your panties in a wad.”

Susan’s cheeks flamed, and the disapproving set of her lips left no doubt about how she felt about

Tom’s comment.

“We’ve got real maps and we can always use Google.”

Claire turned to her mother. “I guess I’d better go. I’ll see you in a few months.” Now that it was

time to say goodbye, it was harder than Claire had imagined.

Eyes shimmering, her mother pulled Claire into her arms. After pressing a kiss to Claire’s cheek, she

stepped back. “I’m scared … but I’m proud of you.”

“You are?”

She gave Claire’s arm a squeeze. “So is your dad. You are so brave.”

Why couldn’t they have said that earlier? “Tell Dad I love him too.”

“I will.” Her chin trembled. “He knows. And he’s sorry he couldn’t be here this morning. He had a

meeting he couldn’t get out of.”

“I understand.”

She took an envelope out of her purse and pressed it into Claire’s hands. “Just a little extra, in case

you need it.”

Claire looked in the envelope. Hundreds of dollars in twenties? “No. I’m fine, really. I have my

own.”

“Well, it’s never enough … believe me.” Her mom gave her another kiss. “See you soon.” She

turned, crossed the street, and climbed into the Suburban. As she pulled away, she waved at Claire.

Claire watched, suddenly swamped with uncertainty. What was she doing?

“Good morning.”

Claire startled and turned to see a middle-aged man with a big friendly face. “Oh. I didn’t see you.”

“I’m Frank. Just out enjoying the morning air.” He glanced at the RV. “Tom’s had that rig parked

since his wife, Doris, died. About time he took it out of mothballs.”

“Should be fun.”

“Morning, Frank.” Tom turned to Claire. “Do you need the walker often?”

“No. The cane is usually enough.”

“Okay. We’ll stow it. You have your meds handy?”

“They’re in my pack.”

Tom glanced down the road, then at his watch. He frowned. “Willow ought to be here. Told her we’d

be pulling out at eight o’clock sharp.” His bright mood faded. He walked around to the other side of the

coach.

“Have a great time,” Frank said, then strolled down the sidewalk.

Tom stood at the bottom of the steps and motioned for Claire to board. He moved aside and then

followed her up the stairs.

Claire stepped into the front room and rested a hand on a dark brown leather recliner that sat just to

the right of the entrance. It matched a small sofa in the living space.

Taylor sat at the dining table, her long dark hair falling into her face as she concentrated on her

computer screen. She barely glanced up. “Hey,” is all she said before turning her attention back to the

computer.

Thirty-one and acting like a teenager. Claire forced a smile. “Hi.”

Tom squeezed past and walked through the kitchen.

Claire followed him toward the back, past a bathroom and a closet. A bedroom with a walk-around

bed and cabinets on one wall looked snug but comfortable. Her suitcase sat on the bed.

“You and Willow can share the bed,” Tom said. “I’ll sleep on the sofa, and Taylor will have the

dining room fold-out bed. She said she doesn’t mind sharing the room with an old man.” He nodded at a

small built-in dresser. “Those cabinets are for you two. When your stuff is put away, I’ll give you a hand

with this mattress. There’s a storage compartment under it—good place for your suitcase.” He moved

toward the front of the RV.

Claire unpacked her suitcase, placing her clothing in the small bureau. She’d brought just necessities,

knowing the coach had limited space. After she finished, she made her way to the front and eased her

aching body onto the bench seat, across the table from Taylor and her computer.

Taylor didn’t look up.

“What are you working on?”

“Mapping out our trip. I have it worked out. We’ll take Highway 138 over the Cascades and then use

Highway 70 to cross the Rockies and move out over the Midwest. I’d like to make it to Loretta Lynn’s

place in Kentucky before May. Willow said something about Savannah, Georgia, so we can head straight

there after Kentucky, spend a couple of days, and get moving to Florida and the dolphins.” She stopped to

take a breath. “Do you have some place you want to go?”

“I’d like to see my sister in Grand Junction, Colorado.”

“I’m pretty sure Highway 70 passes through there.” She squinted at the computer.

Tom pushed down the screen, closing the computer. “No itinerary. We’re taking this one day at a

time.”

“Hey!” Taylor glared at him. “I’ve been working on that since two o’clock this morning.”

“I don’t remember anyone voting you in as tour guide.” Tom stared at her, his heavy brows bumping

into each other. “You take your meds?”

She cast her gaze away from his. “I always take them.” She picked up her guitar, which was leaning

against the window. “Okay. So we don’t have to use my plan. But we need a plan. I can stay connected

most of the time.” She tapped a small modem on the side of her computer before strumming a few chords.

“I have the computer wired with satellite.”

“I’m impressed,” Tom said, his voice laced with sarcasm. “But why do we need an itinerary?”

Claire nearly groaned. This might be a longer trip than she’d imagined.

A taxi pulled to the curb and the driver unloaded two bags and set them on the sidewalk. The

passenger door opened and Willow stepped out. She looked like she did most days—graying hair wavy

and free, falling to her shoulders. She wore a colorful ankle-length dress and sandals. Willow hauled two

bags out of the backseat. Next, she reached into the car and led out a brown and white boxer.

Tom tromped out of the RV and strode across the street.

Taylor and Claire followed but hung back, making sure to stay out of what promised to be a stormy

encounter.

Willow turned and faced Tom, her orange-and-yellow shift billowing in the breeze.

Tom glowered at Willow. “You’re late.”

“I had a few last minute stops to make.”

“And what’s that?” He aimed a sharp nod at the dog.

“That is Daisy. My boxer. I couldn’t possibly leave her alone for months.”

“No dogs.”

“You’ll love her. She’s sweet and intelligent.”

“Does she bite?” asked Taylor.

“Oh, no. She’s very even-tempered.” Willow stroked the dog’s short, glossy coat.

Taylor edged toward Daisy.

The dog’s stub of a tail beat back and forth like a metronome at high speed.

Taylor rested a hand on the boxer’s head, and Daisy looked up at her with a sad expression. “She

should go with us,” Taylor said, throwing an accusatory look at Tom.

Tom studied the boxer, then turned a determined gaze on Willow. “I said no dogs.”

Claire joined Taylor and Willow, and gave Daisy a pat. “I love boxers.”

Daisy leaned against Claire’s leg.

“Tom, we can’t leave her.”

Tom blew out a loud breath. “How are we supposed to take care of a dog? She’s too big. We’ll have

to pack food for her—”

“I already did that when we were preparing the RV yesterday. It’s all put away—food and bowls.”

Willow smiled.

“She’ll be nothing but trouble.”

“If she doesn’t go, I don’t go.” Willow’s blue eyes locked with Tom’s.

He looked at the dog and rubbed his clean-shaven chin.

“She’s a good traveler.” Willow glanced at Claire and Taylor. “A watch dog will come in handy.”

“Oh yeah, she’ll protect us all right. I can see she’s vicious.” Tom smirked. “I said no dogs, and I

meant it.”

Willow’s gaze took command. “Then I’ll just have to go home.”

No one responded.

Finally, Tom threw up his hands. “Fine. She can come. But you’re completely responsible for her.

I’m not feeding her or taking her out to … well, I’m not cleaning up after her. And I’m not doctoring her

or making sure she stays out of traffic either.”

Wearing a triumphant smile, Willow gave Daisy a pat. “Come on, girl.” She moved toward the

coach.

Tom picked up the bags she’d left behind and followed. “Let’s hit the road. I know a great place for

breakfast.”

Will they find the courage to follow their dreams and dare to live again?

If you’d like to continue to road trip, you can get the ebook of To Dance with Dolphins for a special sale price of $2.99. Sale price good until January 30, 2017. Available at these retailers: Amazon Barnes and Noble Smashwords iTunes Kobo

Take the survey after The Journey of Eleven Moons sample below.

Bonnie Leon

Ashberry Lane

© 2013 by Bonnie Leon

Smashwords Edition

20th

Anniversary Revised Edition

Published by Ashberry Lane

P.O. Box 665, Gaston, OR 97119

www.ashberrylane.com

This book is available in print at most online retailers.

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 without the prior written permission of the publisher.

The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

Published in association with Wendy Lawton of Books & Such Literary Agency.

ISBN 978-0-9893967-5-2

Cover design by Miller Media Solutions

Cover models: Maria Aguillon, Liliana Tarabochia

Cover images by Ashlee Murr Photography and iStock.com

Scripture used in this book, whether quoted or paraphrased by the characters, is taken from the

King James Version of the Bible.

About the Book

A successful walrus hunt means Anna and her beloved Kinauquak will soon be joined in

marriage. But before they can seal their promise to one another, a tsunami wipes their village

from the rugged shore … everyone except Anna and her little sister, Iya, who are left alone to

face the Alaskan wilderness.

A stranger, a Civil War veteran with golden hair and blue eyes, wanders the untamed

Aleutian Islands. He offers help, but can Anna trust him or his God? And if she doesn’t, how will

she and Iya survive?

Dedicated to

my mother,

who knows what it is to be

native and Alaskan.

Chapter One

Alaskan Territory

1868

Anna’s hands stopped their rhythmic work of basket weaving and lay still in her lap as she gazed

out at the frigid Bering Sea. Kinauquak had gone with the men, and this time he would be

allowed to make a kill. Unable to concentrate, she looked around the circle of women.

Alulak met her gaze.

Under the old woman’s scrutiny, Anna lowered her eyes.

Alulak laughed and her eyes became half-moons, nearly disappearing into the folds of

wrinkled, brown skin toughened from years of cold and wind. With a toothless grin, she boasted,

“My grandson Kinauquak will return with a great walrus. Of this I am certain.” Eyes bright with

anticipation, she said, “Tonight we will feast.”

The other Aleut women grinned and nodded, hands never ceasing to weave the unyielding

Aleutian grasses. Each occasionally looked up from her work to scan the empty sea. As always,

they waited, anxious for the men’s return, not knowing if her loved one had perished or would

come back a successful hunter.

Yet this hunt was special. Custom dictated that when Kinauquak made his first kill, he

would be counted among the men and ready to take a wife. Anna and Kinauquak had been

promised to each other while still children. Once they had played together, but that time was

past. Now, as was customary and acceptable, they loved each other as adults.

Still, Anna could not dwell in Kinauquak’s hut. Not until he came for her. Anna looked at

her mother, Luba. “The men will come soon?”

Luba smiled softly. “Yes. Soon.”

Were there bobbing splotches of brown on the horizon? Anna stared at the vast ocean. None.

She released a deep sigh.

Mind preoccupied, she ran the sharp edge of a blade of grass across her finger. “Ouch.”

Blood oozed from a small cut. A droplet fell upon the partially finished basket.

Anna put her finger to her mouth to stop the flow. This basket, now marked with a dark

stain, would be the first she would bring into her new home. How fitting that it should contain

her lifeblood.

Sixteen summers had passed since her birth, and she was ready to take her place as mate and

mother. To have been chosen as Kinauquak’s partner was an honor. He was a brave and noble

man. Her heart swelled with pride as she thought of him and how his eyes lit up when he looked

at her. She only hoped she would be worthy of such a man.

Anna had worked hard to learn the skill of fleshing and softening hides, and her baskets

were admired by even the old ones. She laid her hand across her abdomen and prayed the gods

would favor her and Kinauquak with many children. Already she carried his child. At the time of

their joining, she would tell him. Until then, she delighted in the certainty of his joy when he

heard of it.

Iya and Inoki, her younger sister and brother, raced through the circle of women. Iya

squealed with delight as Inoki sprinted behind her. Although the younger of the two, Iya was

swifter and more agile and easily avoided her brother’s pursuit.

Alulak, the eldest of the women, stood. Stretching her four-foot, eleven-inch frame as tall as

possible, she planted her hands on her hips. “You children go and play where you are not a

nuisance.” She held her arms away from her body and scanned the sand around her. “Look what

you have done. You have thrown sand over all our work.”

With no more than a glance, the children scurried off.

The women shook their heads, clucking their tongues, their irritation always more show than

true annoyance. They tolerated childish behavior because, all too soon, the children would

shoulder the burden of survival.

Anna’s gaze darted across the vast expanse of water as she twisted a strand of grass

absentmindedly. When will they come?

The other women giggled knowingly.

Anna glanced about the circle as she felt blood rush to her face. She quickly looked down at

her work. Has he killed a walrus yet? Would she have to wait much longer? Or would she be his

wife today?

The bay remained empty except for the ever-present kelp floating aimlessly in the currents

and the birds who squalled as they fought over tidbits in the surf. In the small cove, the sun

reflected off quiet water, but beyond the bay, wind-whipped whitecaps danced across the tops of

untamed waves.

Anna closed her eyes and lifted her chin toward the precious sun, delighting in its warmth.

The sun’s rare appearance made it something of great value. Wind and rain were often relentless.

Frequently Anna complained about the lack of sunshine. If only the weather were brighter and

warmer.

Luba would gently correct her. “Life does not always give us what we want. We must

cherish each day, no matter what it brings.”

Anna tried to do as her mother said, but some days were just too bleak.

She breathed in the briny odor of the sea and returned to her work. Finally the women

accepted her, although she sometimes felt like a child looking in from the outside. Still, her mind

was too full of Kinauquak to take in much of the women’s conversation.

Her mother watched her.

Anna smiled, and Luba returned the gesture, but her smile did not touch her eyes. “Is all

well?” Anna asked.

Luba didn’t answer at first. Her chocolate-colored eyes settled squarely on Anna. “Life is

good. The sea provides and our family is well.”

The women quieted.

“But ... I feel your absence from our home even before you have gone. Soon, you will share

the barabara of your husband.”

Tears pricked Anna’s eyes, and she managed a weak smile. When her mother learned of the

baby, she would forget her sorrow. But life would not be the same after Anna left her family’s

hut.

Luba had named her eldest daughter after a great Russian princess, telling Anna, “Your

name will be a symbol of your heritage. You will always be special among our people.”

Her father, a visiting Russian sailor, had come and gone before knowing of her existence.

Instead of the usual straight, coal-black hair of Aleutian women, she had dark brown waves. Her

eyes, though almond in shape, were a vibrant gold rather than a dark brown. Her disposition,

more than any other characteristic, set her apart. She was bold and determined, sometimes even

argumentative—a trait considered unattractive among her people. The elders often chastised her

for her stubbornness. Anna tried to follow the dictates of the village leaders but frequently failed.

Still, she was accepted as one of them and deeply loved.

Anna held up her basket and studied her work. The grass she had twisted marred the design.

Should she remove it? No, perfection was not always best.

“The hunters are coming!” Inoki yelled.

Dropping her basket, Anna turned to look for the approaching boats.

The other women set their work aside and rushed to the water’s edge. They shaded their

eyes as they gazed out over the sea at the boats bobbing in the distance.

Anna trembled as she pushed to her feet. She stood, unable to move, heart hammering

beneath her ribs. She held her breath as the baidarkas sliced through the water.

What if Kinauquak had failed? It was too awful to imagine. He would be disgraced.

I pray to you, god of the sea, do not let him be dishonored.

The villagers crowded about the boats as they came ashore. As the sealskin vessels scraped

against the sand, men leapt into the shallows and, with the help of eager observers, dragged their

crafts up the rocky beach.

Anna stood at a distance, hands clasped tightly together as she searched for Kinauquak.

Then she saw him.

He smiled broadly as he emerged from his baidarka. He stood erect, spear in hand, and

searched the landscape. As his eyes met Anna’s, he held his spear high in the air, a look of pride

confirming his success.

With a small cheer, Anna ran toward him, but as she approached shyness slowed her pace.

Eyes lowered, she quietly stopped next to him.

Kinauquak, with a shout of triumph, placed his hands around her small waist and lifted her

into the air and spun about.

Unrestrained energy flowed from Kinauquak to Anna and all she knew was laughter and joy.

Trembling with excitement, she wrapped her arms about his neck, looked into his eyes and, with

voice shaking, said, “It is our time.”

Kinauquak answered by embracing her even more tightly.

Anna threw her head back and laughed.

Alulak shuffled through the loose sand and embraced the couple. When she stepped back

she turned to Kinauquak and with a voice full of pride, said, “As your mother would have done,

if her spirit had not departed this world, I will do. I will prepare a feast and we will celebrate.”

With a wide, toothless smile, she added jubilantly, “Come, there is to be a joining.”

With the help of the other hunters, Kinauquak hauled the great walrus onto the shore. Like a

strutting cock, he walked about the bloated animal, chanting a tune of triumph. He stopped,

placed his spear squarely upon it, and pierced it once more before allowing the men to drag it to

Alulak’s hut.

Anna turned to follow Alulak when an ominous rumbling emanated from deep within the

earth.

The ground trembled.

She moved toward Kinauquak, but the earth’s violent pitching threw her to the ground. As

she fought to regain her footing, the land rose beneath her, making it impossible to stand.

Helplessly sprawled on the writhing sand, she screamed, “Kinauquak!”

He battled the quaking ground as he tried to run to her.

A hut of mud and rocks collapsed, nearly burying him.

Others fell, helpless against the powerful, convulsing beach. Cries for loved ones pierced the

air. The earth swallowed bushes and scrub trees, then spewed them out as though they were bitter

to the taste.

Anna tried again to stand, but the ground continued to heave and she could only watch as the

village crumbled.

A rack, draped with drying salmon, toppled, sending fish sprawling across the vibrating

sand. A kayak tumbled from its stand. Alulak picked up a crying child, then stumbled.

Anna’s heart raced and she gulped for air. Although the ground had trembled many times

before, she had never felt it move with such power. She couldn’t fight the undulating motion any

longer. She sat, clasped her hands tightly about her legs, and pulled herself into a ball with her

head tucked close into her knees. All she could do was wait and pray the earth would stop its

violent pitching.

Kinauquak tried to get to Anna, but was thrown to the ground again and again.

The roar from inside the earth grew louder.

Anna covered her ears. How long could it last? She closed her eyes and squeezed them

tightly shut, blocking out the nightmarish scene.

It could not be banished.

As quickly as it had started, the rumbling ceased, and the land ended its distorted dance. All

was silent.

Heart still pounding, Anna lifted her head and looked about, afraid of what she would find.

The village was all askew. Rocks, mud, and grass were mounded where homes had stood

minutes before. Huts tipped at odd angles. Trees and bushes no longer stood erect; some still

swayed.

Whimpering came from some of the villagers. Others stood mute and stunned.

Anna tried to stand, but her legs would not hold her. She remained huddled on the ground.

She wanted to weep, needed to weep, but there was no time for that now. She blinked back tears

and dredged up practicality.

Kinauquak suddenly appeared beside her, grabbing her hands. “Are you all right?”

She looked down at herself. Everything seemed fine. She nodded, still feeling dazed.

Kinauquak pulled her to her feet.

“It is so still,” she whispered. “Even the birds have stopped complaining.”

Blood fell from Kinauquak’s arm, trickled down his wrist, and dripped from his hand.

“You are hurt!”

Kinauquak glanced at his wound. “It is nothing.” He brushed at the blood.

Anna ignored his indifference, led him to the surf, and knelt in the water, pulling Kinauquak

down beside her. She washed a deep gash on his arm, then waded a little farther out into the surf

and fished out a piece of seaweed. “Here, this will help.” She wrapped the seaweed about his

wound. When it was in place, she patted it gently.

Anna’s mother wailed. “Iya! I can’t find Iya!”

Anna scanned the beach, but there was no sign of her sister.

“Help me!” Luba pleaded, voice on the edge of hysteria.

The people of the village quickly set out to search for the missing girl.

Anna ran to her mother. “Where was she before the ground shook?”

Luba looked about frantically. “I do not know.”

“We will find her,” Anna said with a confidence she didn’t feel. As she scanned the village,

her gaze fell upon the family’s partially destroyed home. Iya might be inside. She sprinted across

the sand toward the tilted structure, fighting the impulse to rush inside. Instead, she peered

through the door, then patted the walls.

Sturdy enough to stand.

She stepped inside. As her eyes adjusted to the half-light, she gasped. The hut was in

shambles, nearly unrecognizable. Everything had fallen from the walls and lay scattered about

the dirt floor. Their table was tipped on its side, and the furs looked as if someone had tossed

them about. A seal-oil lamp had landed on the floor, its light extinguished. The morning fire still

smoldered beneath the debris.

No movement.

Anna turned to leave.

Soft sobs came from beneath a pile of skins.

She hurried across the room, searched through the hides, and found Iya hiding from an

unseen foe at the bottom of the heap.

Eyes shut tightly and face streaked with tears, she trembled convulsively.

Anna gently lifted the little girl and held her close. “Iya, all is well. The earth has stopped

moving. You do not need to be afraid.” She kissed the little girl’s cheek, stroked her straight

black hair, and carried the frightened child out of the hut.

“Oh, my sweet Iya. Here you are.” Anna’s mother gathered her into her arms and cradled

her.

Oovie Dunnak, Anna’s stepfather, assembled the family outside the damaged hut. The

stocky, powerfully built man quickly took command, barking orders at Anna and her brothers.

He instructed the two older boys to rebuild the fish rack and told a younger brother to clean the

partially dried fish and rehang them. The oldest son joined his father, and the two began repairs

on the wounded hut.

Anna worked inside with her mother, and Iya was told to stay out of trouble.

Shaking dust from the seal pelts used for bedding, Anna put them back in place while her

mother removed the debris from the fire pit.

Luba hummed an ancient chant of good fortune as they worked inside the dark, musty

house.

Anna’s sweet, clear voice blended with her mother’s.

They smiled at each other. Singing always brought them comfort.

Her tiny mother tried to lift the driftwood table, but faltered. “Anna, could you help me?”

Anna quickly grabbed the other side of the table and together they managed to lift it and set

it against the back wall.

The promised joining … A sharp pang of disappointment seized Anna’s stomach. There

would be no celebration tonight. She swallowed her grief, chiding herself for such selfish

thoughts. Now was not the time to think of her needs. There would be plenty of time for

Kinauquak and her. They had a lifetime.

Luba surveyed the room, which looked much as it had before the quake except for the

partially crumbled wall. She placed her arm about Anna’s shoulders and pulled her close. “That

is better.” She stopped and faced her oldest child. “You have always been a faithful daughter,

bringing me great joy.” She reached out and took a strand of Anna’s silky brown hair between

her fingers then tenderly smoothed it back. She leveled tear-filled eyes on Anna and her voice

quavered. “I will miss you.”

Anna lay her hand over her mother’s, unable to keep the regret out of her words. “There will

be no joining today.”

“No. But tomorrow, or the next. Your time is soon.”

“I know I will be Kinauquak’s wife, but I had hoped it would be today.”

Luba’s expression turned soft, understanding passing between the two.

“What more can I do to help?” Anna asked. It was time to leave regrets behind.

Luba thought for a moment before a smile brightened her face. “There are blueberries

ripening on the bluff. Your father enjoys them very much. Would you take Iya and pick some to

celebrate our good fortune?”

Anna’s eyes widened. “Good fortune? Everything has fallen down around us.”

Luba cupped Anna’s face between her hands. “The ground shook in a way I have never

known, yet we live.” She looked toward the heavens and whispered with passion, “God has

protected us. Tomorrow will come.”

Anna said nothing. She had never trusted the God the Russian priest, Father Ermelov, spoke

of. She believed in the ancient gods of her people—the creator god, god of the sea, and god of

the moon. She turned away. “There are not many berries ripe yet, but I think there are enough for

one meal.”

Luba said nothing more about God, but reminded Anna, “Do not forget Iya.”

She would rather go by herself and spend time on the high bluffs that overlooked the beach.

It was the perfect place to be alone. But she smiled and said, “I will not forget. We will bring

back many berries.” She slipped a leather pouch over her shoulder, picked up two baskets, and

went to look for her sister.

Iya’s chatter gave away her location before Anna rounded the house. The little girl sat on a

rock, watching her father and brothers work. “It was dark inside the hut. I heard a great roar and

the world tipped from side to side. Is that how it always is when the earth shakes? Will it come

again?”

There would be more quaking. It could go on for many days. She cut into the little girl’s

prattle. “No, Iya, it has gone. Would you like to come pick berries?”

Iya jumped to her feet. “Yes.” She raced across the sand toward her sister.

Anna’s father stopped his labor to look at his two daughters. “Berries will taste good. Thank

you, Anna.”

“We will return soon,” Anna said, taking Iya’s hand. She led her sister to the trail that led up

the steep cliffs above the beach. After helping Iya over the large rocks at the bottom of the

winding path, Anna stopped and looked out over the village.

A cloud moved across the sun, casting a shadow on the beach.

A vague sense of unease fell over Anna. Unable to explain the feeling, she shrugged it off

and followed Iya up the cliffs.

Chapter Two

Once Anna and Iya reached the top of the cliff trail, they stopped to catch their breath. The land

opened before them, reaching out to the base of a volcanic peak, which stood like a sentinel

wearing a helmet of white. Fields of tough Aleutian grasses and berry bushes merged with

masses of delicate pink and lavender flowers that danced across the bluffs.

Anna gazed at the stunning tapestry of color and texture that crowned her island. The

contrast between this place and her beach home never failed to inspire her. She soaked in the

artistry, memorizing every detail so she could take it back to the beach with her.

Iya fidgeted and tugged on Anna’s hand.

Anna ignored her and took a long, deep breath, inhaling the fresh scent of grass that mingled

with the sweet fragrance of blueberries and wildflowers. “This is where I want to live.”

“Me, too,” Iya said. “Why do we not?”

Anna looked at her younger sister’s sweet face and gently brushed a strand of black hair out

of her eyes. “It is beautiful now, but when the storms come there is no protection from the

pounding rains and wind. And we would always be climbing down the cliffs to hunt and gather

food. And our wood comes from the beach.” She shook her head. “To visit will have to be

enough.” Her gaze roamed over the meadows and warmed her insides.

“I like our visits.”

A sudden urge to romp swept over Anna and she dashed across the open ground. “Catch me

if you can,” she called over her shoulder.

Iya charged after her sister, feet dashing over the brush and digging into patches of sand.

Anna darted back and forth through the bushes, avoiding her sister’s grasp.

Though Anna was older, Iya was a fleet-footed five-year-old, and she soon threw her arms

about Anna’s waist, capturing her. The two of them tumbled to the ground, giggling their delight.

Breathlessly, Anna conceded. “You have won.” She rolled to her back, looked up at the

brilliant blue sky, and ruffled her sister’s hair. “You are too fast for me.”

Iya grinned impishly. “You are getting too old and—” A look of fear overtook her smile.

Peering at something beyond Anna, she raised up on her arms as if ready to flee.

Pushing to her feet, Anna turned to look and drew in a sharp breath.

On the ridge behind them stood a man, an outsider. Where had he come from? She hadn’t

seen anyone from the outside for a long while and had heard nothing from the people in the

village about such a visitor.

The man was tall with a full beard and wavy blond hair that blew wildly in the wind. He

held his slender frame stiff and straight, legs slightly parted. A rifle was slung casually over one

shoulder. Silently he watched them, but he made no threats.

Anna placed herself between Iya and the stranger and slowly backed away. “Say nothing

and stay close to me,” she whispered.

Outsiders had traveled to the village many times before and rarely brought anything of value

with them. On the contrary, they were often cruel and treated Anna’s people with less respect

than they would an animal.

First the Russians came, ruthless in their desire for furs and riches. They enslaved her

people, using them to hunt the sea otter and great whales. Those who resisted were killed. Men

were forced to leave their households and serve the fur-greedy Russians. Without hunters, entire

villages perished.

The intruders also brought diseases and many Aleuts died. Anna had heard stories of a time

when there were many thousands of her people, but now only small bands lived on the islands

that stood between the Pacific Ocean and the Bering Sea.

Others brought strange ways and new religions. Anna shunned their God. The intruders

acted like devils; therefore, their God must be evil.

As she studied the man, her mouth went dry and her heart leapt inside her chest. The urge to

flee overpowered her resolve to hold her ground. She took Iya’s hand and bolted through the

brush as though pursued by demons. She glanced over her shoulder. Did he follow them?

He had turned and moved the other way.

Anna stopped and pulled Iya close as the stranger disappeared behind a small rise. “He is not

interested in us,” Anna said, gasping for breath. “Good.” She waited a few minutes longer to

assure he would not sneak back and seize them. When he didn’t return, Anna dropped to the soft

earth. She patted the ground next to her and motioned for Iya to join her.

The bushes had scratched their unprotected calves and ankles. Anna doctored Iya’s legs with

leaves and dirt, wiping away blood that trickled down her ankles, then she did the same for her

own damaged limbs.

She leaned back on her elbows, closed her eyes, and tilted her head, allowing the breeze and

warm sun to calm her anxiety. “We can rest for a while before we pick berries.”

Iya glanced nervously in the direction the stranger had gone. “What about the man?”

“He is no danger to us.”

Iya’s face held uncertainty and she shivered in the cool breeze as she snuggled close to

Anna.

She stared at the sky. “We cannot trust those from the outside. They care only about

themselves and bring nothing but pain and suffering to us.”

“Father Ermelov is not from here, and he is always kind,” Iya said, coming to the defense of

the Russian priest who often visited their village.

“He is different. I do not believe in his God, but he is kind. I think he hates evil and

mistrusts the outsiders just as we do.”

“Where did he come from?”

“Father Ermelov? He is from Unalaska. He has a meeting house there.”

“No. The stranger.”

“I do not know. He comes from a place I have not seen.” Anna shrugged. “There are many

lands far from here.” She smiled at Iya. “But it is too beautiful a day to worry about that man. He

is gone.” She rolled to her side, closed her eyes, and rested her head in the crook of her arm.

Iya leaned against Anna’s back, and the two lay in the summer sun a little longer. The cliffs

muffled the rhythmic pounding of the sea, and the cry of irritable seabirds seemed far away.

The sound of the wind rustling through the grasses quieted Anna’s spirit. Even the pungent

odor of the nearby ocean seemed less potent. Anna’s eyelids drooped and she was tempted to

stretch out on the soft earth to nap in the afternoon sun. Instead, she stretched her arms above her

head and yawned, then forced herself to her feet. The breeze blew her hair into a soft tangle. She

brushed at it with her hands, trying to keep the wispy strands out of her eyes, but no matter how

hard she tried, they eluded her efforts. She finally gave up and allowed it to do as it wanted.

Iya squinted up at Anna. “Can’t we sleep?”

“I wish we could lie here all day, but Mother’s expecting berries. Come on, they’re waiting

to be picked.” She handed a basket to Iya. Still feeling drowsy, she strolled across the field to the

berry bushes.

The season for picking had only just begun, and there was very little ripe fruit. The baskets

filled slowly.

Iya looked into hers. “It will take forever to fill this basket. I wish I’d made a smaller one.”

“If more berries went into your basket instead of your mouth, it would not take so long.”

Anna grinned. “And if you had made a smaller one, you would need to carry two.”

Iya held up her basket, proudly displaying her work. “It is beautiful, is it not?”

“Yes, you did well. It is very pretty. When you are grown, you will make fine baskets like

our mother’s.”

Iya examined her work, a pout replacing her smile. “Do you think it is crooked? Inoki said it

is, and he said I would never be a good weaver—that no one would marry someone who made

crooked baskets.”

That Inoki, always teasing. Anna knelt in front of Iya and looked squarely into her eyes.

“You’re a good weaver. Your basket is only a little crooked. This is your first and you can be

proud of your work. When Inoki teases, you must not listen.”

Iya nodded and her smile returned.

They went back to work, and the berries mounded. Anna glanced at Iya just as she was

about to drop another berry into her mouth. “Iya, no more.” She did her best to look stern, though

she wasn’t really angry.

Iya quickly rerouted the fruit and dropped it into her basket.

Anna was tempted by the juicy fruit as well, and a while later she sneaked a berry to her lips.

Iya glanced up just at the right moment. “Anna, do not eat any berries. They go into your

basket.” She tried to sound firm, but her little-girl voice only seemed more charming.

They laughed and each popped a small tangy berry into her mouth.

After Anna filled her basket, she helped Iya finish hers. She held a large berry up to the

sunlight. “Beautiful.”

Iya nodded and stuffed another into her mouth. “They taste even better.”

“I think we have enough.” Their father would bestow much praise upon them when they

returned with their precious offering. Mother also would be pleased and reward them each with

an extra portion. “Our father will be happy to have so many.”

Without warning, a low rumble came from beneath their feet, and the ground shook for a

moment. A small aftershock, but a reminder they might be needed at home.

Iya gripped Anna’s arm. “Is it going to happen again?”

“No. Only like this—small. It is normal after the earth moves. The ground will shake but not

so bad as before.”

Iya looked at her with suspicion, but didn’t argue.

High spirits deflated, Anna said, “Time to go.” She turned back toward the bluffs.

When they reached the trail that led to the beach Iya said, “We hurried so fast I’m tired. Can

I rest?”

Anna nodded. “We will rest here, but only for a few minutes.” They sat in the deep grass

and Anna set her basket on the ground beside her.

They watched the activity on the beach below. People fixed their homes and assessed other

damaged possessions. Many huts were beyond repair and would have to be rebuilt, but they

would not be homeless. Other natives would welcome people without shelter into their homes.

“Look, there.” Anna pointed at Inoki as he dashed across the sand.

One of his favorite games was to tease the waves. He tramped carefully toward the breaking

surf as the sea washed up the beach, then raced ahead of the water, just out of reach of the white

foam. The object was to remain dry, although he rarely did. Inoki enjoyed the surf and often gave

into the temptation to dive into the frothy breakers.

Abruptly, he stopped and stared down at the sand. He bent to pick up something. He’d found

a large shell, and after examining it carefully, called to their mother. From the way he raised his

prize above his head, it was clear he was proud of his find.

Luba looked up from her work and, wearing a smile, waved at her son.

“We’d better get back.” Anna stood and brushed sand from her skirt.

Iya pushed up off the ground and, with her basket of berries tucked under one arm, started

down the path.

Anna scanned the beach once more. Something was wrong. The cove looked odd. Trying to

clear her vision, she blinked her eyes.

The water in the small bay rushed out to sea. Fish flopped on the wet sand, large, ugly

mouths gasping for air. Long-submerged rocks and boats covered with barnacles and other

crustaceans were suddenly exposed to the air.

Anna felt horror in the pit of her stomach. “The sea withdraws from the land!”

Iya edged back toward Anna, eyes trained on the beach. She fumbled for her sister’s hand

and grasped it.

Inoki, who only moments earlier had frolicked in the surf, fled toward the village, fear

etched across his boyish features. In his haste, he fell and peered over his shoulder at the

apparition.

Anna willed Inoki back to his feet. “Run!” she screamed. There was nothing she could do.

The villagers wailed. The old ones cried an alarm, urging everyone to flee to the cliffs. They

knew what was coming. Terror was written upon their faces.

The bay emptied, as if the god of the sea had gulped down the waters.

Anna couldn’t believe what her eyes told her. She squeezed Iya’s hand hard and pulled her

close. Her mind screamed that she must help, but she could do nothing more than stand and

watch.

A thunderous sound came from the ocean as a monstrous swell converged with the receding

water. With terrifying speed and power, it approached the beach, growing larger as it advanced.

The merciless mountain of water viciously bore down on the small village.

Panicked villagers screamed and scrambled for safety, but the wave was too swift. Mothers

picked up crying infants and dragged older children behind, while the old hobbled toward

promised safety.

Alulak didn’t run but stood facing the coming water.

“Kinauquak! Where is Kinauquak?” Anna cried as she searched the beach. Then she saw

him.

He had turned back to his grandmother and now tugged on her arm, but she wouldn’t take

her eyes from the sea. Finally he fled, leaving the old woman to face the ocean’s wrath.

No one could escape its fury. As it hit the beach, the wall of water grew taller. It scooped up

Inoki, tossed him effortlessly into the air, then pulled the helpless young boy into the seething

flood. Next the umiaks and baidarkas on the beach vanished in the tide. Relentlessly, the

churning mass of seawater, sand, and vegetation moved up the beach. It slammed into the

village. Alulak never moved, disappearing under the roar of water, meeting her death honorably.

Anna watched in horror as the water engulfed her home and swooped down upon her family.

A scream wrenched itself from her throat as her mother vanished beneath the rogue wave. She

couldn’t bear to watch but was unable to look away.

The slayer moved inland and, unbelievably, grew in size and intensity as it advanced,

destroying everything in its path. Villagers scrambling for the rocks, trying to escape the giant

wall of water, disappeared one by one into the foaming, muddy flood.

Kinauquak, clinging to the cliff, tried to pull himself out of reach of the killer, but was

plucked from the rocks.

The wave rammed into the sheer rock face and threatened to reach beyond the cliffs, to

snatch Anna and Iya from their perch. Paralyzed, she watched in revulsion as the mountain of

water smashed against the cliffs with a thunderous roar, hungering for more victims.

Another wave followed the first, and another, but finally, its energy spent, the water receded

and slowly retreated to the sea. It left quietly, as though it had never visited, but its spoils could

not be ignored. It had come, devouring their home, their people, their life.

Anna’s legs crumpled beneath her, and she slumped to the ground.

Iya mutely climbed into her arms. Once safely tucked within her sister’s embrace, she

whimpered quietly.

Anna clung to Iya, comforting and seeking comfort. Eyes unseeing, she rocked the little girl

and chanted a mournful tune.

There were no tears as dusk settled over the island. The two orphans silently held each other

and finally slept. But even in sleep, Anna could not escape the nightmare of the giant waves.

Distorted images and pictures of death filled her dreams. There would be no one else to bring

comfort; they had only each other.

He offers help, but can Anna trust him or his God? And if she doesn't, how will she and Iya survive?

Continue the adventure today. You can get the ebook of The Journey of Eleven Moons for a special sale price of $2.99. Sale price good until January 30, 2017. Available at these retailers: Amazon Barnes and Noble Smashwords iTunes Kobo

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