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