trees　on

the　mountain　to　survive；

like　Noah　and　the　ark。〃　He　smiled　then；　to　show　me　how　little　stock　he　put　in

the　histories。

〃Another　legend　claims　that　we　descended　from　wolves—and　that　the　wolves　are

our　brothers

still。　It's　against　tribal　law　to　kill　them。

〃Then　there　are　the　stories　about　the　cold　ones。〃　His　voice　dropped　a　little

lower。

〃The　cold　ones？〃

〃Yes。　There　are　stories　of　the　cold　ones　as　old　as　the　wolf　legends；　and　some

much　more　recent。

According　to　legend；　my　own　great…grandfather　knew　some　of　them。　He　was　the

one　who　made

the　treaty　that　kept　them　off　our　land。〃　Jacob　rolled　his　eyes。

〃　Your　great…grandfather？〃

〃He　was　a　tribal　elder；　like　my　father。　You　see；　the　cold　ones　are　the　natural

enemies　of　the　wolf—

well；　not　the　wolf　really；　but　the　wolves　that　turn　into　men；　like　our

ancestors。　You　would　call

them　werewolves。〃

〃Werewolves　have　enemies？〃

〃Only　one。〃

There　was　something　stuck　in　my　throat；　choking　me。　I　tried　to　swallow　it

down；　but　it　was　lodged　there；

un…moving。　I　tried　to　spit　it　out。

〃Werewolf；〃　I　gasped。

Yes；　that　was　the　word　that　I　was　choking　on。

The　whole　world　lurched；　tilting　the　wrong　way　on　its　axis。

What　kind　of　a　place　was　this？　Could　a　world　really　exist　where　ancient

legends　went　wandering　around

the　borders　of　tiny；　insignificant　towns；　facing　down　mythical　monsters？　Did

this　mean　every　impossible

fairy　tale　was　grounded　somewhere　in　absolute　truth？　Was　there　anything　sane

or　normal　at　all；　or　was

everything　just　magic　and　ghost　stories？

I　clutched　my　head　in　my　hands；　trying