The Hunter's Moon (The Secret Warrior Series) Read Online Free Page A

above the bill resembling a nose, and black eyes like slits in a flat mask were startling. Not to mention the unnerving cry that shot through her aching head. He didn’t appear particularly pleased by her presence, either. Likely, wanted her out of this room.
    Should she take cover?
    Before she rolled under the coffee table, Miriam shushed the ruffled bird, then offered her a reassuring smile.
    “Miyathwe will not harm you. He is a tame owl, our neeakah , friend.”
    Maybe toward the family . Morgan wished she had a helmet for protection if the crazed owl started dive-bombing her.
    He unfluffed his puffed-up feathers and settled back down on his talons, but stared unblinkingly at Morgan. The owls in Harry Potter had seemed friendlier. But this was real life.
    She shifted her focus to Miriam who lightly sponged her sore hands and face with a cloth dipped in the fragrant liquid.
    The scent was pleasing and the water soothing. “Smells good.”
    “Yes. This is an infusion of monarda, or bee balm, as you may know it,” Miriam explained.
    Morgan didn’t.
    “It’s a medicinal herb, also used for tea.” The healer dabbed sweet-smelling ointment on her bruised forehead and the scratches crisscrossing her palms. “The salve is made from yarrow root, plantain leaves, violets, and petals of the bramble rose. I have a room at the back of the lodge where I dry herbs and prepare them. Use more of this whenever you need.”
    Miriam set the small brown crock of ointment on the whopping coffee table created from the inner circle of a giant tree trunk. The growth rings rippled out to tell its age—old. And it was riddled with marks and squiggles, giving it a rustic look.
    She gestured at the table. “Made of chestnut. Blight wiped out the trees long ago, but left defects in the wood now considered desirable, making the lumber of value. In every bad thing, there is something to cherish. Remember that, Morgan.”
    Disquiet stirred in her at the somber reminder. The words seemed spoken especially for her. “All right.”
    What else could she reply?
    Uncertain what Miriam meant, and not sure she wanted to find out, she ran her gaze over more of the room. It reminded her of a hunting lodge, minus the animal heads she’d expect to find mounted on the walls. Thankful there weren’t any.
    Nothing went to waste with the Wapicoli. Everything was crafted from nature. Woven baskets were filled with silvery dried herbs, seed heads, red berries, golden-brown nuts, and balls of yarn in many hues.
    Did they raise sheep and shear them for wool? She wouldn’t be surprised. They seemed quite self-sufficient.
    Sections of tree trunks with the tops sanded and the gnarled wood polished served as smaller tables and stands. Two of these stood on either side of the handcrafted leather couch that could comfortably seat eight. Here and there, chairs made of vines and bent twigs appeared solid enough to bear the weight of a sizable man.
    Deft fingers had been at work everywhere she looked, even with the lighting. All was handmade. Smaller sections of lichen encrusted trunks and shortened limbs acted as candleholders. White wax poured into the holes bored in the center held wicks. Tapered candles also rose from the prongs of antlers fashioned into holders. The candles glowed and flickered in the slight breeze escaping the hearth.
    If the lodge was off the grid, did it lack electricity? Maybe the Wapicoli simply preferred this earthy way of life, like a living history museum.
    They read, judging from the leather-bound books lining the shelves against the log wall. The classics , she guessed. Nothing published in this century, maybe not even the one before that. Probably the works of Dickens and the like.
    A large ancient volume caught her eye. Instead of being lodged alongside the others so that only the spine was visible, this book commanded more space and held a place of honor on the wide shelf. Why was it singled out?
    Some kind of spell book, maybe. The