The Visitant: Book I Of The Anasazi Mysteries - Plot & Excerpts
A soft sizzling filled her chamber. A few Evening People gleamed through the gaps in the clouds, sparkling against the indigo blanket of night. Catkin stretched. The rich scents of ritual cooking filled her nostrils. For the past two days women had cooked rabbits, band-tailed pigeons, deer, and a variety of corn flour breads. They’d roasted gourds, pine nuts, sunflower and pumpkin seeds, boiled enormous pots of beans, and made a delicious jam by boiling dried yucca fruits and chokecherries until they became a paste. All of those scents clung to the village. Her stomach growled. Catkin sat up and tossed a few twigs into the bowl. The wood crackled and spat, and flames licked up around the tinder. She rose in the soft yellow gleam and walked to the big red pot across the chamber. On this, the shortest day, and longest night of the sun cycle, she had sacred duties to perform. As she pulled her tan sleep shirt over her head, she Sang: My breath-heart is calling to you Father Sun, Hear me calling, I am coming, I am coming, Dark purple rises in the east, I am coming, Begging you to awaken, and light the world, I am coming, Father Sun.
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