Chapter 12

I use the term loosely. We’re scavengers. Even in our skins, there’s a lot of fur, claws, fangs, pointed ears, and long snouts. I haven’t shifted yet, so I’m smooth, but I’m an outlier. Most female scavengers have gone into heat and had their first shift by sixteen. I’ll be nineteen in five months.

For a while, the walk along the lake is calming, like a meditation. A pair of herons swoop like they’re practicing take-off and landing, and on the far shore, the water is still stained pink and orange from the sunrise.

But then, as we pass the Narrows, the path becomes level and paved. The...