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Jacinda never slept too deeply no matter where she was. Well, maybe if she had too much to drink, but that had happened only a few times. She really didn't like the feeling of being out of control. Which was to say, she really wasn't much of a partier, as things went.
Generally, she was always alert. The sounds of feet in the kitchen, the clink of glasses, the shhhh of water, woke her, but she recognized them for what they were and drifted off again. The couch was comfortable and the heat from the wood stove wasn't stifling. She was cozy, wrapped in her blankets. A nice cocoon. It had been a while since she'd felt this at home.
The drip of the coffee maker was what drew her out of her sleep, though. She sat up, stretched arms and legs and torso, felt that delicious sensation in her back, down deep in her glutes and legs and calves, her shoulders and neck. It was her every day routine, and she relished the sensual experience.
The blinds were closed, but she could see the pink of dawn along the edges of the window panes. The smell of the coffee began to fill the air and she inhaled deeply, feeling her brain shift into gear. She remembered something she'd read not long ago. Don't ever let anyone tell you that fairy tales aren't real. I drink a potion made from magic beans every day, and it brings me back to life. It always made her laugh.
She shifted herself off the couch and stood, stretching again. Hosteen was the one in the kitchen. "You kids,"
he said with a smile. "That couch would kill my back if I slept on it."
He laughed. "Don't get old, girl."
Jacinda laughed. "Ok. I won't, I promise,"
and winked at him. She got sore from a good workout or a strenuous hunt, but that was about it. Getting old was not something she really worried about.
She got a change of clothes and headed to the bathroom. She emerged from the bathroom dressed, though her hair was still damp. She dried it the best she could, combed it out, and put it in a pony tail. When she came out to the kitchen, Jill was seated at the table, her hair in a pony tail too, though she was still in her sleep clothes.
Another woman was there too, older than Jill and her by maybe 10 years. The resemblance was enough, naming her her sister. But where Jill seemed at peace and relaxed, though, a grimace marred this woman's face. Made sense. Her husband dead. Now a single mom. Probably up all night crying. Jacinda gave her a kind smile.
Her voice quiet, she said, "Hi. I'm Jacinda. I'm very sorry for your loss."
For some reason, the woman just looked at her, studying her, eyes narrowed. Jacinda held her gaze, unsure what was going on.
Finally, "Sari."
There was no friendliness in it. Jacinda understood. She was an outsider and this was her time of grief. The accident had probably happened after the call went out for a hunter. Jacinda had been traveling for a couple of days, after all. Still, the woman looked at Jill too, studying her as well, and her face didn't change. If anything, she clenched her jaw. Odd.
Well, family dynamics wasn't something Jacinda really understood. She was never around anyone that long. At least not since Regan. After him, most men just didn't seem very real. She pushed away the memory that came up with his name.
Jill went to a cabinet and got mug, pouring a cup. "Did you sleep well?"
Jacinda was glad for the question.
"Yeah. Very good."
Jacinda was surprised when she handed the mug to her, and her eyebrows raised."Thanks."
Jill smiled. "No problem."
Sari moved her chair back and stood. "I should get to the girls before they wake up."
She gave Hosteen a kiss, her sister a warning look and ignored Jacinda completely as she slipped on her shoes and headed out the door.
That was weird.
The rest of the morning was uneventful. After breakfast, Jill went and got herself ready while Jacinda folded the sheets and blankets and made the living room a living room again.
When Jill came out, she was wearing a pair of tight black jeans and a tucked in green flannel shirt, white shirt underneath. She looked like a hunter, fit and solid. It was a good look on her.
Stepping outside, the cold hit her, but it was refreshing. Mist feathered her breath. Snow had fallen again last night, hiding the churned up mud from the ceremony the day before. The ground was frozen solid too. In the distance, the monuments stood, lit by the newly rising sun, stark white against bright red rocks.
She opened the door of the 4 Runner and started it, got the heat going as well as the defrost.
After throwing her stuff in the back, Jill got one side of the windshield scraped clean of ice while she got the other. The cold had started to seep in by that time, and she was thankful the heater had warmed up the inside when they got in.
"Ok. Where do we go first?"
Jill pulled a paper from her bag- a hand drawn map. The scrawled handwriting was thin and shaky. Probably drawn by Hosteen. Still, it was readable enough. Locations of where the deaths had occurred.
Her slender finger pointed to one. "Here. This is the closest. Shirleen Begaye."
She looked at Jacinda for a moment. "Listen. If we need to talk to someone, let me do it. Navajos are suspicious of outsiders. Especially when it comes to things like this."
Jacinda remembered Jill and Hosteen last night.
She nodded her head. Made sense. Let her do the talking. She didn't have any great skill in that area, after all. She wasn't sure how good Jill was in the actual hunt anyway. How often she and her husband had gone together, she didn't know. She needed to get a feel for this woman and her abilities.
Edited by Jacinda, Jul 16 2018, 08:06 PM.