When the Alpha Howls
Like I was shopping for bedtime stories instead of trying to decide whether my life had cracked open into impossibility.
“Thank you,” I murmured.
The folklore section was tucked into a quiet corner near a window that looked out toward the forest. Of course it did. The books there were a strange little army: weathered hardcovers, thin local history pamphlets, glossy paperbacks with titles involving moons and curses and women who looked poorly dressed for weather.
I started with the serious looking ones. Northern Appalachian Folk Beliefs, Predator Myths of the American East, Silver, Salt, and Blood: Ritual Materials in Regional Lore. I pulled them down one by one, making a stack against my che
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