Excerpt from Whispers Through Time
As she stood there, drinking in the splendid isolation, Sierra realized that she wasn’t isolated at all. Instead, she stood in the middle of an Indian camp that was deathly silent. Even though it was freezing cold, there were no fires flickering within warm tipis. These tipis were ragged and torn. Scarecrow-thin people walked by her, so close she could have touched them, so close that she could smell the odors of sickness and filthy clothing, but no one looked her way. Somewhere in the distance but at the edges of the camp came the long, haunting wail of a woman. A woman tortured, heartbroken…
“Sierra, are you all right?”
Hunter’s concerned voice shattered the stillness and Sierra was overwhelmed by an aching sadness as the camp dissipated into a dark and murky fog. As soon as the sunlight returned, she took a ragged breath and reached for his hand.
Hunter intertwined his fingers with hers. “Come on, Sierra, talk to me. What’s going on?”
Sierra fought tears. She had never felt so alone in her life. There was a time when it would never have occurred to her to keep so powerful a secret from him—she had once told him everything. There was a time when his touch would have opened the floodgates to her emotions and she would have blanketed herself in his arms, seeking reassurance and refuge. But not now. She couldn’t trust him now.
