Excerpt: The Moon Like Blood

"How you are called?" he asked, shaking her this time. His Spanish was better than his English, but not by much.

Abby drew herself up, raised her chin and sucked in a deep breath. "Miss. Chase." She spat the words as she glared back at him with what she hoped was equal malice.

"Miss. Chase?" The man gripping her arms parroted her statement and her attitude with remarkable precision.

Standing at her tormentor’s shoulder, Red-and-White Disc said something in harsh, vulgar syllables Abby didn’t understand. The women and children laughed. Abby felt blood rush to her cheeks, but she would not cower. Her father never retreated, and neither would she.

The hard lines of the savage’s face, only inches from hers, shifted into a half-grin he tried to hide. Mischief glinted in the eyes that burned into hers for what seemed like an eternity. He was toying with her. She’d seen the same expression of feral delight on cats’ faces as they played with captive mice or baby opossums.

Her eyes widened a bit with the realization. She struggled to maintain a fierce challenge in her gaze, even as her heart began to beat so hard she feared it would explode. Her knees trembled beneath the petticoats that peeked out from what remained of the traveling dress, and her head threatened to float off her shoulders.

Stand your ground. She fought rising fear with desperate resolve, determined the troops would not desert her. Don’t you dare faint.

The warrior saw through the façade, and his expression changed. Abby thought she saw pity flash across his dark features before disgust replaced the amusement in narrowed obsidian eyes and a contemptuous sneer twisted the hard lines of a cruel mouth. When he spoke, his voice was cold and even in a terrifying new way.

“I am called Natseed Yik'edandiihí. In your tongue, Killer of Enemies.” The words became a hissed snarl. “Not ‘killer of women’.” He flung her away from him, and she landed hard on her backside in the dirt.