The ground of the church was almost worse than the snow outside. She felt the cold stone burn into her back the second she regained consciousness. Not even her clothes could help her fight off the nasty climate.

Doris knew one thing, she was right not to trust any of the food they had given her—but still her stomach yearned for more. She wished she had cleared her plate when she had the chance even if it was drugged. She’d sooner die of starvation than whatever else they had in store for her.

Doris opened her eyes to see a delicately carved ceiling that showed a story of wolves running...