[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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TWO DAYS PASSED in a timeless blur, the clock ticking down the minutes and hours that rolled together in the weight darkness pressing down on the cabin, until the weekend dragged its wear body over the corpse of the week with a bleak sunrise. Pale orange infused the wispy clouds that streaked across a white sky: combined with the fog that lingered amongst the trees, it felt as though the sky was falling, dropping into the forest piece by piece.
As soon as the sun had risen the colours of its glory faded, the day fell into its pattern of grey. The clouds were paint swatches over the world, showing off every shade of misery that hovered too close, but the ashes of the storm couldn't dampen Adele's spirits any more than they had already been crushed when she refused to acknowledge the weather, holed up in the bunker with Ainslie and Caleb.
A mountain of blankets and a carefully controlled fire turned the bleak bunker into a slightly more homely room. Adele strung up a deer hide to block the gap, shutting themselves into the notebook nook, and a couple more of the skins lined the concrete floor for a little extra heat. Ainslie sat in the corner with a duvet wrapped around her shoulders, the fire warming her feet as she pored over yet another notebook from 1994 in search of answers.
Adele rested on a bed of cushions and blankets, the hard floor too unforgiving when she was still suffering from the side effects of her fall, and Caleb lay across her lap. For three days now, he had been a silent companion, providing nothing but his company and his warmth as he took a little time for himself. Shifts were painful and tiring, and after spending so little of his twenty-two years as a human amongst humans, it was a relief for him to be able to take a couple of days of rest.
He was better than a blanket when it came to heat, his heavy body a welcome load over Adele's legs. His heart was a steady beat against her thigh, his muzzle pressed against her stomach as she slouched in a semi-sitting position, resting her wrists on the back of his neck to hold the notebook at arm's length to read it.
