As they regrouped, Lisa’s phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out with little expectation. A notification blinked—a comment on her original post. Someone had found a cluster of eagle feathers near the abandoned orchard on the far side of town.
She opened the attached photo. Her breath caught. The feathers were unmistakable—broad, brown and white, lying in a circle as if something had landed heavily. Lisa’s fingers flew. She showed the image to David. “It’s her,” she whispered. “She might be there.”