Chapter three
TessaWhen a snarling bear speaks, no man listens long enough to know if its words are true.
Powwaw Speak: Shamanic Wisdom of the Irrakish, Theodore Black, PhD
Tessa skipped along the sandy path that wound between the houses in Little Sardinia. The sun glinted off the aluminum pan she carried, and a warm cloud of cinnamon and apple scent spiced the air. A guilty desire nagged at her, to abandon this visit to her new neighbor and keep the pie for herself. After all, she had yet to see any evidence of his existence.
Except for the chimney smoke. A thin, grey flag that said someone was home, someone who might like to meet their landlady and eat some apple pie.
The shack stood on the edge of the settlement — even more dilapidated than the Brigg’s place next door, which had be
