Eliza Morningstar — Point of View
The Red Rock Flats Clinic always smelled faintly of antiseptic and sage — a mix of modern medicine and old ways that somehow worked together. Eliza walked down the hallway with her badge clipped to her belt, her mind already racing through the jurisdictional fallout she’d have to manage.
County deputies were circling like vultures. The Tribal Council wanted answers. Samantha was on her way with something she wouldn’t say over the phone. And Aiyana Red Elk — a girl who should have been safe — was lying in a hospital bed with only two words to offer.
Blue house.
NorthStar.
Eliza reached the waiting area outside Aiyana’s room and found Elijah Greyhawk standing there, arms crossed, posture rigid. He looked like he hadn’t moved since the ambulance arrived.
“Elijah,” she said.
He nodded once. “Eliza.”
They weren’t friends. They weren’t enemies. A girl’s survival of something neither of them fully understood forced these two people into the same orbit.
Eliza gestured toward the hallway. “Walk with me.”
Elijah followed.
###
Elijah Greyhawk — Point of View
He didn’t like hospitals. Too bright. The atmosphere is too quiet. Too many memories of people he couldn’t save. But Aiyana Red Elk was alive, and that was enough to keep him steady.
Eliza led him into a small consultation room and shut the door behind them. She didn’t sit. Neither did he. “What did she say exactly?” Eliza asked.
Elijah rubbed the back of his neck. “First thing was her name. Then ‘blue house.’ In the ambulance.”
“And at the clinic?”
“‘NorthStar.’”
Eliza exhaled slowly. “Samantha found something. She’s on her way.”
Elijah frowned. “Found what?”
“A match,” Eliza said. “In her database.”
Elijah didn’t know Samantha well, but he knew her work. If she said something matched, it meant something was wrong.
“Tell me what you saw,” Eliza said.
Elijah hesitated. “You will not like it.”
“Try me.”
He met her eyes. “The place in which I found her. It wasn’t random. Someone dropped her there. Someone who was familiar with the land."
Eliza’s jaw tightened. “And the blue house?”
“I know the one she meant,” Elijah said. “But it’s not on Black Rock land.”
Eliza’s eyes narrowed. “Boundary Ridge.”
“Yeah.”
Eliza paced once, thinking. “Evan’s territory.”
“He’s already checking it,” Elijah said. “I called him.”
Eliza stopped pacing. “Good.”
Elijah raised an eyebrow. “You trust him?”
“I trust his instincts,” Eliza said. “And I trust he knows his land better than anyone.”
Elijah nodded. “He’ll find something.”
Eliza crossed her arms. “And what about you? What did you notice you haven’t said yet?”
Elijah hesitated again — not because he didn’t want to tell her, but because he didn’t want to say it out loud.
“Elijah,” Eliza said, voice firm. “Tell me.”
He met her eyes. “Aiyana wasn’t running. Someone positioned her. Someone carried her. The tracks were too clean.”
Eliza’s breath caught. “Carried?”
“Yeah,” Elijah said. “And whoever did it knew exactly where the jurisdictional line was.”
Eliza closed her eyes for a moment, absorbing that.
When she opened them, her voice was steady. “This wasn’t an escape.”
“No,” Elijah said. “It was a message.”
###
Eliza Morningstar — Point of View
A message. The word settled in her chest like a stone. She thought of Aiyana’s cracked lips, her trembling voice, the way she clung to consciousness long enough to say two words that meant everything and nothing.
Blue house.
NorthStar.
“Elijah,” she said quietly, “we’re not dealing with a one‑off.”
“I know.”
"They have arranged this," Eliza stated.
“I know.”
“This is bigger than any one reservation.”
“I know that, too.”
Eliza looked at him — really looked at him — and saw the same thing she felt. Fear. Determination. And the weight of responsibility.
She took a breath. “We need to work together.”
Elijah nodded. “Yeah. We do.”
A knock sounded on the door. Samantha Wolf‑Iverson stepped inside, laptop under her arm, eyes wide with urgency.
“We have a problem,” she said.
Eliza and Elijah turned toward her. Samantha opened her laptop. “And I think I know what NorthStar is.”