Beneath a Winter Moon
Page 52
Jack suddenly growled. There was no mistaking the intent behind the menacing sound. "He is a lovely dog...though you might want to keep him locked up. Doesn’t seem to like folks.”
The man grinned…and Thomas wanted to wipe the grin off of his face.
“Would that be Jack? The same dog from your stories?” Jack growled again, and stood up, his tail curled.
He’s already read the book, Thomas thought.
“Just a second,” Thomas said as he took Jack to the front counter, maneuvering as far around the man as he could. He handed Jack’s leash to the young cashier who said she would be happy to hold him for a few minutes.
Thomas came back to the table, but didn’t bother to use it to separate himself and the man. By now, he had the silver dagger easily accessible and was prepared to use it. Thomas knew it might be crazy to think what he was thinking—but the way Jack acted, the man’s accent, and his likely familiarity with Alastair bolstered his belief that the stranger was more than what he seemed and definitely dangerous.
“So, I’ll take just the one copy, then, please,” the man said, still smiling like a Cheshire cat.
The woman looked bored as she came to stand beside the man, tugging on his arm.
“Sure, to whom?” Thomas asked, remaining wary of the strange man and wanting to get this over as soon as possible.
The man smiled and leaned forward just a bit, moving closer to Thomas…though he new this man would not understand the relevance. “The name is Camran, Mr. Devereaux. Camran Shaw.”
THE END
Author’s Notes
The cities and/or townships, mountains, parks, lakes used in this novel do not exist. When searching for mountain ranges remote enough or large enough, with wild weather patterns and without adequate satellite coverage and yet still close to civilization, I found that the search was too daunting. Even if I did get it right, I would likely get everything else wrong trying to fit the story within those confines. So, I did what fiction writers do...I made it all up. Just as the story is fiction, so are the locations and the situations. About the only correct locations mentioned are North America and Canada.
I did take some time to try to get some of the aircraft right, and the call signs, but as far as the authorities, air rescue units or their vehicles and aircraft, or government...don’t even try to compare them with any real entities. You will be sorely disappointed.
Another purposeful exemption from my story are the use of snowshoes. If I am lucky, the first time those widely used yet cumbersome items have come to mind is right now...as you are reading this. I hate snowshoes. While they work, they are slow and painful and would have irritated me throughout the writing of this novel. So, I omitted them. My imagination allows me to realize snow-capped mountains that can be navigated without snowshoes...after all, it happens every day.
I have also completely made up some folklore in this novel including Daniel’s story about that Native American Trickster. While Tricksters and shape shifters are a real part of Native American folklore, Daniel’s (my) stories within this novel are fictitious.
Lastly, I introduced some of my own beliefs about werewolves, such as their semi-immortality and their inability to age. I like the idea of lycanthropy in perpetuity, so I ran with it. I hope that the truly hardcore werewolf fans don’t mind my own interpretations.
Shawson M Hebert