Biting the Moon Read Online Free PDF

Koya, a Zuni Indian who had taken care of Mary ever since they’d been in New Mexico, and even more so after her sister, Angela, had died. Mary’s parents were dead too; the Hopes had been killed when their Cessna went down over the Rockies. Rosella, of course, asked Andi a lot of questions, though not unfriendly ones. The questions were not really answered and yet gave the impression of having been. Mary saw that Andi was even more adept at this than she herself. At any rate, Rosella was happy that Mary had found herself “a little friend.”
    â€œGood. It’s good you have a little friend.”
    When Rosella turned away, Mary and Andi exchanged a look. A little friend.
    In her bedroom, Mary shook her head. “Can you believe it? You’d think we were dolls, or maybe kittens. Here’s some pj’s. The bathroom’s right down there.” Mary pointed down the hall.
    Andi went to the bathroom; Mary got undressed and stood looking out of the window. She had turned off the light because she wanted to see as far as she could out there. She was looking for Sunny. He’d gone off before, sometimes for weeks, but he always came back, so she wasn’t terribly worried. The moonlight was a bright lake across the desert. She was glad they lived in Tesuque instead of in the city. Out here she felt less crowded by the unreasonable demands of adults.
    She thought about Andi. She had decided that Andi had run away from home; she was pretty sure of it. Of course, she was curious, but she would not ask.
    As she was standing before the window, thinking about this, Andi came back from the bathroom. She kept smoothing down the pajamas, looking at herself, as delighted as if she were wearing coronation robes. “I haven’t had pajamas on in such a long time. Or it seems like a long time.”
    Mary didn’t ask her what she’d been sleeping in. Probably her underwear.
    They got into the queen-sized bed, big enough for both of them without crowding. Contentedly, Mary sighed. The room was faintly lighted by the moon.
    Andi said, “It never really gets dark. It’s amazing. Dead of night sometimes is almost like dusk. It’s sure not like that in . . .” She frowned into the dusky light. In where? She cleared her throat. What license plate was on that Camaro? Idaho. “. . . in Boise.”
    Oh, sure, thought Mary, Boise. That sure rang no bells. “I’ve never been in any states between here and New York.”
    â€œYou’re not missing anything.” Andi yawned.
    â€œDo you know where you’re going after you leave here? I don’t mean you’ve got to leave, but you do seem to be traveling.” Mary tried to state this in a way that wouldn’t seem pushy, pressing for an explanation.
    For some time there was a silence, heavy, as if weighted with unspoken conflicts. Andi said, “I am. I’m looking for someone.”
    Mary’s head turned on the pillow. That surprised her. “You are? Who?”
    Again, there was silence, into which Andi dropped the answer. “I don’t know his name.”
    Mary waited for more. But there wasn’t any more. She rolled over on her side but didn’t close her eyes.
    Andi lay on her back, staring at the pattern of leaves the moon had printed on the ceiling. After a long silence, she said, “You know that question you asked about the coyotes snarling and lunging?” When Mary nodded, she went on: “That’s what’s really terrible. They’re in this terrible pain, agonizing, but they just . . . well . . . look at you, sort of hopeful that maybe you’ll help them. They hardly make a sound. It’s as if they know they’re going to die. They just accept it.”
    Both of them were silent for a few moments, both looking up at the ceiling.
    â€œI’ve got a kind of mixed-breed dog and coyote. Sunny. But he’s off