Out on the road with her mother, walking, the two of them holding hands, Leni felt like an astronaut moving through an inhospitable white landscape. Her breathing and their footsteps were all she heard. She tried to convince Mama to stop at either the Walker place or Large Marge’s, but Mama wouldn’t listen. She didn’t want to admit what had happened.

In town, everything was hunkered down. The boardwalk was a strip of snow-covered ice. Icicles hung from the eaves of the buildings and snow coated every surface. The harbor was full of whitecaps that tossed the fishing boats from side to side, yanked at their lines.

The Kicking Moose was already—or still—open. Light bled through the amber windows. A few vehicles were parked out front—trucks, snow machines—but not many.

Leni elbowed Mama, cocked her head at the VW bus parked near the saloon.

Neither of them moved. “He won’t be glad to see us,” Mama said.

An understatement, Leni thought.

“Maybe we should go home,” Mama said, shivering.

Across the street, the door to the General Store opened, and Leni heard the faraway tinkling of the bell.

Tom Walker stepped out of the store, carrying a big box of supplies. He saw them and stopped.

Leni was acutely aware of how she and Mama looked, standing knee-deep in snow, faces pink with cold, tuques white and frozen. No one went walking in weather like this. Mr. Walker put his box of supplies in the back of his truck, shoved it up against the cab. Large Marge came out of the store behind him. Leni saw the two of them look at each other, frown, and then head toward Leni and her mom.

“Hey, Cora,” Mr. Walker said. “You guys are out on a bad day.”

A shudder of cold made Mama shake; her teeth chattered. “Wolves were at our place last night. I d-don’t know how many. They k-killed all the goats and chickens and ruined the pens and c-coop.”

“Did Ernt kill any of them? Do you need help skinning? The pelts are worth—”

“N-no,” Mama said. “It was dark. I’m just here … to put in an order for more chicks.” She glanced at Large Marge. “Next time you go to Homer, Marge. And for more rice and beans, but … we’re out of money. Maybe I can do laundry. Or darning. I’m good with a needle and thread.”

Leni saw the way Large Marge’s face tightened, heard the curse she muttered beneath her breath. “He left you alone, and wolves attacked your place. You could have been killed.”

“We were fine. We didn’t go out,” Mama said.

“Where is he?” Mr. Walker asked quietly.

“W-we don’t know,” Mama lied.

“At the Kicking Moose,” Large Marge said. “There’s the VW.”