Download e-book for kindle: People of the Sea (North America's Forgotten Past, Book 5) by Kathleen O'Neal Gear, W. Michael Gear
By Kathleen O'Neal Gear, W. Michael Gear
ISBN-10: 1466817836
ISBN-13: 9781466817838
Twelve thousand years in the past, the glaciers of the Sierra Nevada have been melting, destroying the habitat of the mastodons and developing the wealthy land that will develop into California. The coastal humans fight to appreciate the altering global round them: their seer Sunchaser has misplaced his method to the Spirit international, and mammoths proceed to disappear.
When a stunning lady arrives, fleeing from her abusive husband, the folks understand what they need to do--for if the Spirits are already taking the animals away, what's going to ensue in the event that they shield a stranger?
Now Sunchaser needs to make a choice--between the lady he loves and the protection of his people's world.
New York Times and USA Today Bestselling authors and award-winning archaeologists W. Michael equipment and Kathleen O'Neal apparatus carry North America's Forgotten prior to magnificent lifestyles in People of the Sea.
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Additional resources for People of the Sea (North America's Forgotten Past, Book 5)
Example text
My family had been as timid as the pigeons, I thought. They had let their necks be wrung. ” I asked. ” As we walked down through the Bottom Hundred the secret quail rose from the grass. I was outraged by my family, and very fierce in my judgment of my father particularly, that he had not drawn a sword and slaughtered his tormentors. My lungs were clogged, my heart was disturbed, but my Latin declensions must still be learned. As the day ended, Bébé and I hic-haec-hoc’d our way through the strange pale grass, up to the old mill on whose steps we rested to eat an apple.
My lungs were clogged, my heart was disturbed, but my Latin declensions must still be learned. As the day ended, Bébé and I hic-haec-hoc’d our way through the strange pale grass, up to the old mill on whose steps we rested to eat an apple. It was not yet dark, but I could see, through the heavy branches, the golden lights of our home. I understood it then, as for the first time, not as a castle of pride and strength, but as a weak place, a soft thing in the coming night. I saw my grandfather and my father sitting unprotesting in their chairs.
The long gallery is a racetrack, paved with marble, and we swish toward that low dark door, the little oratory where Maman often spends her mornings praying. But my mother is not praying, so we must carry our machine to visit her. That anyone would choose oak for such a device beggars belief, but my uncle was clearly an artist of a type. Now on these endless stairs I feel the slow drag of my breath like a rat-tail file inside my throat. This is no fun, sir, but do not be alarmed. I might be a slight boy with sloping shoulders and fine arms, but my blood is cold and strong, and I will swim a river and shoot a bird and carry the célérifère to the second floor where I will present to you the cloaked blindfolded figure on the chaise, my mother, the Comtesse de Garmont.
People of the Sea (North America's Forgotten Past, Book 5) by Kathleen O'Neal Gear, W. Michael Gear
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