TITLE: Rose Winter, Wolf Spring
GENRE: Paranormal Romance
Rose stared resolutely out the bar's single, tiny window, and tried not to think about how thin the roll of bills in her hip pocket had become in only a week and a half. One upon a time, abut ten days ago, coming north had seemed like the best idea in the world. The north was cold, and people wore gloves all the time, and wrapped up tight, so no one noticed a girl who never uncovered her hands. The north, under all it's snow and ice, had seemed safe.
Now, every day, she realized that she would never be safe again.
At first she was surprised they let a seventeen-year-old into bars up here. But as the succession of truckers carried her further and further north, she noticed that the definition of "town" seemed to be the space outside a bar, and there was no place else for people to get together. She was getting used to bars.
This trucker -- she couldn't remember his name -- had come in to do something with his logbook, and buy food. Whatever he was doing took forever, and a hamburger cost seven dollars in this lousy place. Rose sat, staring at her hands.
The gloves helped. They were fashionable brown spandex, and they kept her from touching anybody. Touching was the worst nightmare of all. For a long time she kept hoping she would blink, or wake up, and things would be normal again. Things were not going to be normal.