That wasn’t surprising, considering what he’d been through over the past few days.

“Then get some rest.”

Noble was quiet for the longest time, then said, “Do you think they’ll find her?”

“Of course they will,” Phyllis said, as if surprised that Noble would even ask such a silly question.

Just then the front door opened up.

“Who’s there?” Phyllis shouted.

“It’s me, Harlan,” came the reply. Then, “Where’s Argus’s sweater?”

“Which one?” said Phyllis, still in the bedroom.

“The big wool one. The one that you wish he’d throw out.”

Phyllis knew exactly which sweater Harlan meant. It was gray and brown and two sizes too big—for anyone. It was full of holes and loose threads and it was a miracle the thing was still in one piece, let alone kept him warm. “It’s in the trunk by the door, buried at the bottom.”

No sound for several seconds, then, “Got it!”

Phyllis waited with Noble for Harlan to appear at the bedroom door. When it was obvious he wasn’t going to show, she shouted, “So! Did you find the girl?”

“Yeah,” Harlan replied.

“Where is she?”

“Headed to the hospital.”

“Is she all right?”

“Gotta go!”

His words were punctuated by the front door opening and slamming shut.

Phyllis turned to Noble, a wide smile on her face. “See?” she said. “I told you they’d find her.”

* * *

By the time they reached the hospital the sun was threatening to rise up over the mountains to the east. Redstone Memorial Hospital was a small, two-story building on the south side of town that had been built in the late 1950s with donations from three area logging companies that needed someplace to take lumberjacks when they got cut by axes and chainsaws, or crushed by falling trees.

Tora had led the way through the forest, and they hadn’t run into anyone since crossing paths with the hermit, Jackrabbit Morse. Now her attention was focused on finding Harlan and getting the clothes from home.

But Harlan was nowhere in sight.

“Where is he?” Argus wanted to know, his voice low and gruff in his werewolf form.

Tora shook her head and changed form slightly to make speaking easier. “He knew to meet us here,” she said. “And if anyone can find us, it’s Harlan.” She finished off with a shrug. After all, what more was there to say?

And then, movement in the forest.

Someone was approaching through the trees, most likely Harlan.

“Here he is now,” Tora sighed in relief.

They waited for their brother to arrive.

But the person who stepped out from behind a bush wasn’t Harlan but—

“Maria?”

Tora felt the blood drain from her face—her werewolf face. Her knees went weak beneath her, and if it weren’t for Argus’s strong hand around her arm, she would have fallen to the ground in a heap.