[BOOK ONE] When hunter-gatherer Adele Shepherd comes across an injured werewolf in the woods, it's up to her to take him in and save his life: in a remote town dedicated to killing the creatures, she's the only one left who wants to help no matter t...
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THE RIVER HADN'T frozen yet. It soon would, when winter really set in and the temperatures never rose above zero for long enough to melt the ice that thickened each day. For now, it was still flowing through Elk Woods, tumbling down from the rugged mountains that shadowed the valley before it carried on to supply Buck Pines with water. The town's small reservoir wasn't much but it was enough to get two hundred residents through the coldest months.
There weren't many fish at this time of year. Most slowed down when the cold hit, sinking to the bottom of the lakes and ponds where the water was warmer. Once November struck, only grayling and rainbow trout stuck around and Adele feasted on the fish when she could catch them. They didn't freeze well but if she ate them within a few days, they made up one of her favourite meals.
But she wasn't having much luck today. After standing on the river bank for an hour, her bucket ready and waiting to be filled, she had only managed to catch a single trout, not even a kilogram. Gutted and filleted, it would hardly provide any flesh. With a sigh, she cast out the fly once more and waited for something to swim along. Any minute now, she told herself. Something would bite if she waited long enough, she was sure of it. Her heart was set on grayling for supper but the longer she waited, her cheeks slowly freezing, the less likely that seemed.
"Adele!"
She whipped around at the sound of her name, snagging her hook on a rock, and she dropped her shoulders when she saw a familiar flash of orange hair blowing across an overenthusiastic grin. The kind of grin that could only be worn by someone unaware of the atrocities in the world around them.
"Hi, Ainslie," she said, reeling in the empty line. Time to give up. "What're you doing here?"
Ainslie stepped across the bracken in a pair of brightly striped wellies, a canvas totes handing off one shoulder. Her jumper was emblazoned with the words PENLARK HIGH SCHOOL 2017, the same school that Adele had been kicked out of seven years ago, the year before Ainslie had joined.
