Ghost Seer, Except, Day 6

The remembrance of the lonely melancholy of the Native American pulled at her, along with Enzo’s big dog eyes and huge expectations. So she nerved herself and returned to the ghost.

His passing took a very short time and was unnerving. He’d spoken oddly in her head with more images than language; she’d had to assure him that no one of his tribe remained for him to protect, that his horse was gone, too. Then he’d walked down the rise, sending a cold wind her way, and vanished.

Enzo had congratulated her, but with less enthusiasm than when she’d helped the little girl.

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