From Sharon Ledwith 

If you had the ability to talk to your pet, wouldyou? Most people would probably jump on board and say YES! Some maybe not so onboard. It all depends on the person and their relationship with animals. In Lost and Found, the first book of myteen psychic mystery series, Mysterious Tales from Fairy Falls, I introduceMeagan Walsh, a fifteen-year-old rebel without a cause. She has the ability tocommunicate with animals telepathically. However, she’d buried this psychic giftafter her mother died tragically in an auto accident and was only stirred touse it when confronted with a crusty shelter cat named Whiskey.

Fairy Fallswas bores-ville from the get-go. Then the animals started talking.

The Fairy Falls Animal Shelter is in trouble. Money trouble. It’s up to an old calicocat named Whiskey—a sheltercat who has mastered the skill of observation—to find a new human pack leader so that their home willbe saved. With the help of Nobel, the leader of the shelter dogs, the animalsset out to use the ancient skill of telepathy to contact any human who bothersto listen to them. Unfortunately for fifteen-year-old Meagan Walsh, she hearsthem, loud and clear.

Forced to live with her Aunt Izzy in the safe and quiet town ofFairy Falls, Meagan is caught stealing and is sentenced to do community hoursat the animal shelter where her aunt works. Realizing Meagan can hear her,Whiskey realizes that Meagan just might have the pack leader qualitiesnecessary to save the animals. Avoiding Whiskey and the rest of shelter animalsbecomes impossible for Meagan, so she finally gives in and promises to helpthem. Meagan, along with her newfound friends, Reid Robertson and NatalieKnight, discover that someone in Fairy Falls is not only out to destroy theshelter, but the animals as well. Can Meagan convince her aunt and co-workersthat the animals are in danger? If she fails, then all the animals’ voices willbe silenced forever.

Excerpt:

Beep, beep, the front door sounded again. Sighing, Whiskey lifted aback leg in the middle of the hallway and proceeded to groom herself. She hearda familiar voice. The Kind One is here. Good. I’ll get my litter box donefirst. She stopped grooming and instantly regretted the extra mess she’dmade. Then Whiskey heard another voice. This one belonged to a human who wasyounger and female, yet there was a rough edge to her voice, like she had justswallowed a handful of litter. Curious, Whiskey sauntered over to the receptionarea, jumped on the grey chair that waited there for her, and proceeded to dowhat she did best—observe.

“Stop whiningabout it, Meagan, or suck it up, as you would say. You’re doing these hours andthere’s no getting out of it.”

“Isn’t there achild labour law on this?” the younger human asked.

“You’re notbeing paid.”

“Okay, isn’tthis considered some kind of abuse, then?”

The Kind Onesmiled. “Only if I feed you to Mary Jane.”

“Mary…who?”

Whiskey snortedin laughter, but to a human, it would sound more like a strangled meow. TheKind One jumped and turned around. She giggled, and then moved to scratchWhiskey under the chin. “Good morning, Whiskey-girl. I hope you didn’t leavetoo much of a mess for me this morning.”

The girl’s facetwitched. “That cat is named after booze? Nice.”

“She was foundnear the liquor store,” the Kind One said, smiling. “It seemed appropriate.”

Whiskeysneezed, causing her collar bells to jingle, and purred to appease the KindOne. She was Whiskey’s favourite human and she didn’t like it when the felinesof the shelter made more of a mess than usual for her to clean up. However,last night, a full moon had graced the skies. Tempers were higher at this timeof the month, so it wasn’t unusual to find upturned litter boxes, vomit in thecages, or clumps of fur all over the floor. The pull and power the moon hadover animals was out of their control, so when it waned, things got calmer, andtheir home was kept cleaner.

“Mary Jane isour pit bull,” the Kind One was saying. “She’s the last one left in the sheltersince the government banned the breed. I wish we could find her a suitablehome. I think she’s going a bit bonkers being in the shelter twenty-fourseven.”

The girl’smouth fell open. “I don’t do dogs.”

The Kind Oneshrugged. “Fine. There are over seventy cats that need attention and care. I’msure you won’t be bored.”

The girlfrowned. “I don’t do cats, either. I’m...I’m allergic.”

“Oh, haven’tyou heard, my dear? There are pills for that,” the Kind One said, laughing. “Gointo my car’s glove compartment and grab a couple of allergy pills, and thenget your lily-white butt back here so you can help me start cleaning.”

The girlmoaned. She pulled at the oversized pink scrub top she wore as if protestingthe Kind One’s orders, and then opened the door to go outside. Beep, beep.

“Well, Whiskey,shall we get this party started?”

Whiskey meowed,and then stretched before getting down off the chair. She ran straight to thedoor and let out a long-winded meow. She wanted out so she could roll on thedriveway to loosen any fur the Loud One had not purged from her. Two beepsaccompanied her departure. Whiskey heard a car door slam and looked across thelot. The young girl had a white stick stuck in her mouth and was heading forthe side of the building, near to the dog runs. Whiskey watched as she snuckbehind the lone shed and sat down.

Interesting,she thought. I wonder if the Kind One trusts her?

Whiskey decidedto observe this young human. Carefully, she skulked over to the tall grass thatwas never cut and pushed her way through it. Closer, closer, closer she got,until she was about a stone’s throw away. The dogs were barking like thelunatics they were. Louis was in the run closest to the forest that backed ontothe building, while a new dog, a Lab mix, she guessed, was in the middle. Therun next to the driveway had always been reserved for Mary Jane. Whiskeyglanced back at the girl who was sucking on her white glowing stick. Whiskeysniffed, and then sneezed. Her bells tinkled. Poison, she thought,pawing her face to dissipate the stench.

“Who’s that?”the girl asked, quickly removing the white stick from her mouth.

Whiskey sneezedagain, sounding off her bells as she jumped out of the long grass. She gave theyoung human a long look of disdain, like one a cat might make while having thesquirts in a litter box.

“Oh, it’s justyou,” the girl mumbled, and then resumed sucking on her white glowing stick.

Silly,stupid human, Whiskey thought. She turned to saunter away.

“I’m not silly,and I’m certainly not stupid,” the girl responded nastily.

Whiskey frozeand then sat down. She turned her head around to watch the girl blow smoke outof her mouth. Her long legs were stretched out in front of her and she seemedrelatively relaxed. Whiskey shook her head. Had she imagined it? Did this girlreally pick up her thoughts? This was a real conundrum. No human had ever comeas close as this one to understanding her; to actually communicating with her.The exception, of course, had been the Kind One’s instinct to know when a catwas ill and take care of the matter, but instinct was instinct and this wassomething more.

“What’s the matter, Whiskey?” the girlasked, sucking on the white stick once more before rubbing it into the ground.She blew out ringlets of smoke. “Cat got your tongue?”

Lost & Found, Book One Buy Links:

PANDAMONIUMPUBLISHING HOUSE ׀ AMAZON ׀ BARNES& NOBLE׀

SharonLedwith is the author of the middle-grade/young adult time travel adventureseries, THE LAST TIMEKEEPERS, and the award-winning teen psychic mysteryseries, MYSTERIOUS TALES FROM FAIRY FALLS. When not writing, reading,researching, or revising, she enjoys anything arcane, ancient mysteries, andsingle malt scotch. Sharon lives a serene, yet busy life in a southern touristregion of Ontario, Canada, with her spoiled hubby, and two shiny red e-bikes.

Learn moreabout Sharon Ledwith on her WEBSITE and BLOG. Look up her AMAZONAUTHORpage for a list of current books. Stay connected on FACEBOOK, TWITTER, PINTEREST, LINKEDIN, INSTAGRAM, and GOODREADS.

BONUS: Download the free PDF short story TheTerrible, Mighty Crystal HERE