THIRTY-EIGHT
The sound of Hagen growling woke Rosa. Hagen never growled, unless there was another cat outside. Probably sniffing at the door, wanting to come in out of the cold. She didn't blame it. Even with Chase spooned up close behind her, she could feel the chill air. Almost as though the fire had gone out, or she'd left a window open. But the shutters had been closed for weeks, and she wouldn't have left...
The door was opening. Swinging out wider, until she could see the moonlit clearing outside.
Hagen had puffed up, until he looked more like a thundercloud than a cat, complete with ominous rumbling. Yet even he backed away from the door, retreating into the shadows beside the fire.
Rosa crept out of bed, reaching for the nearest weapon – the poker. She held it before her like
