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THE RIVER HADN'T frozen yet. It soon would, when winter really set in and the temperatures never rose above zero for long enough to melt the ice that thickened each day. For now, it was still flowing through Elk Woods, tumbling down from the rugged mountains that shadowed the valley before it carried on to supply Buck Pines with water. The town's small reservoir wasn't much but it was enough to get two hundred residents through the coldest months.

There weren't many fish at this time of year. Most slowed down when the cold hit, sinking to the bottom of the lakes and ponds where the water was warmer. Once November struck, only grayling and rainbow trout stuck around and Adele feasted on the fish when she could catch them. They didn't freeze well but if she ate them within a few days, they made up one of her favourite meals.

But she wasn't having much luck today. After standing on the river bank for an hour, her bucket ready and waiting to be filled, she had only managed to catch a single trout, not even a kilogram. Gutted and filleted, it would hardly provide any flesh. With a sigh, she cast out the fly once more and waited for something to swim along. Any minute now, she told herself. Something would bite if she waited long enough, she was sure of it. Her heart was set on grayling for supper but the longer she waited, her cheeks slowly freezing, the less likely that seemed.

"Adele!"

She whipped around at the sound of her name, snagging her hook on a rock, and she dropped her shoulders when she saw a familiar flash of orange hair blowing across an overenthusiastic grin. The kind of grin that could only be worn by someone unaware of the atrocities in the world around them.

"Hi, Ainslie," she said, reeling in the empty line. Time to give up. "What're you doing here?"

Ainslie stepped across the bracken in a pair of brightly striped wellies, a canvas totes handing off one shoulder. Her jumper was emblazoned with the words PENLARK HIGH SCHOOL 2017, the same school that Adele had been kicked out of seven years ago, the year before Ainslie had joined.

"I went for a walk," Ainslie said with a breezy smile, hardly looking where she stepped as she headed over to Adele. "I ended up here."

Adele stared. "Ainslie, you live five miles away. That's, what, two hours? It's freezing! You walked two hours without a coat?"

There was a tinge of blue to Ainslie's lips, her shoulders shuddering out of her control. She checked her watch, pursing her lips. "Three, I think," she said, her teeth beginning to chatter as she stood still. "I am a bit cold, I won't lie."

"Jesus Christ," Adele muttered. "What've I told you? You'll die if you wander off unprepared. I'm not kidding." She shook her head and grabbed her bucket, trudging across the foliage to her four-wheeler. It was a life saver in the forest, tackling the tricky terrain with ease. "Come on, get on."

"Where're we going?" Ainslie asked. She took the bucket that Adele handed her, peering down at the solitary fish, and she climbed onto the back of the quadbike.

"You need a warm drink and a coat. You're a goddamn liability, Ainslie Fraser," she said, twisting the key in the ignition to bring the engine to life. "Hold on tight."

*

Ainslie was unlike anyone Adele had ever come across. They had met by chance two years ago, a few weeks after Ainslie had finished her last compulsory year of high school. To celebrate her freedom, she had decided to go camping in the woods. Even in July, that was a bad idea; experienced campers tended to avoid the area renowned for its tricky navigate and rough terrain, not to mention the horrors that lurked within.

Ainslie had found that out the hard way. A missing person's report was put out for a redheaded sixteen-year-old girl last seen in Elk Woods and almost immediately, all hope was lost. People who went missing in the forest tended to stay that way. But a week after her mother had begun to fear the worst, Ainslie had turned up on Adele's doorstep, scratched and confused and starving.

All Adele had done was fix her up and feed her and take her into town but since then, Ainslie had clung to her like a limpet.

She seemed to think they were best friends now. Sometimes she turned up unannounced, often on the verge of getting herself killed. It was as though she floated through life on a cloud, unaware of what it was doing to her. Street smarts had eluded her and so, it seemed, had smart smarts. She had enjoyed high school but if her exam results were anything to go by, she couldn't have understood it.

After scraping through four years of secondary school, she had failed all eight subjects she had taken, not remotely close to passing a single one. Even if she had wanted to complete the next two years of school, she wouldn't have been let in. She just didn't have what it took.

Adele was fascinated by her. At first, Ainslie had irritated her beyond belief – and sometimes she still did, when she popped up without warning while Adele was hunting and almost got herself shot – but over time, she had grown on her. She was harmless. Clueless and harmless, and a sweetie at heart, and Adele felt the urge to protect the girl, as though she was responsible for her now. At the very least, she knew how guilty she'd feel if anything happened to her.

*

It took ten minutes to get home on the quad. Usually it took five but Adele was aware of Ainslie's arms around her, her cold grip weak. The last thing she wanted was to go over a bump and have her fly off the back. She took it easy for two miles before she reached the cabin, where she had left a fire crackling in the hearth, and she helped Ainslie inside.

"I can't feel my fingers," Ainslie said, shivering as she dropped down onto the armchair that Adele led her to.

"Because you're an idiot. What have I told you about wearing gloves?"

"That I should do it." Her teeth were chattering. "Sorry. I forgot. I didn't mean to be out long."

Adele threw a couple more logs on the fire and flicked on the kettle, throwing a blanket over Ainslie. "Where's your mother?"

"At work." She snuggled under the blanket, wrapping it around herself. For eighteen years, she and her mother had lived alone when her father had left before the turn of the century, before she'd had a chance to learn his face.

"Well, she'll be done now," Adele said, checking her watch. It was almost five. "Does she even know you came out?"

Ainslie shook her head. Adele scowled at her.

"She'll be worried sick, Ainslie. I'm going to take you back as soon as you're warmer. What if you hadn't found me, huh? You'd have got lost again and in this weather, I don't know if you'd make the night."

"Sorry," Ainslie said, holding the blanket over her nose to warm her face. Sometimes she seemed just like a child and Adele struggled to believe she was eighteen. Small and baby-faced, she could easily pass for five years younger.

Adele sighed. She squeezed half a lemon into a mug and added a dash of honey. She had yet to put together her own hive but a couple in town were keen beekeepers, and happy to exchange fresh honey for dry firewood.

"It's ok. Look, just drink this," she said, topping up the mug with boiling water.

"What is it?"

"Honey and lemon. It'll help." She passed the mug to Ainslie, who wrapped her cold hands around it, slowly warming her palms. "Drink up and I'll take you home in a few minutes. Text your mum. Tell her where you are."

"I can't," Ainslie said. "My phone died."

"Oh my God, Ainslie! How're you still alive?" she cried out. The girl exasperated her.

"Nothing's killed me yet."

Adele glanced at her before she dropped her eyes to her own phone, scrolling through her contacts. There weren't many but after a few too many instances involving Ainslie, her mother's number had found its way into Adele's list. She tutted, rolling her eyes at Ainslie as she dialled the number, standing in the spot in the kitchen that got the best signal.

"Are you calling my mum?" Ainslie asked. Adele nodded. "Don't tell her I got lost."

Adele raised her eyebrows. "So you were lost, huh? You got lucky, Ainslie."

Her mother picked up after a solitary ring, her words quick and breathy. "Adele, oh my goodness, have you seen my Ainslie anywhere? I was just about to ring you, I can't get hold of her at all."

"Hi, Morag," Adele said, her eyes on Ainslie as she spoke. "She's with me, don't worry. Her phone died. We're just having a drink and I'll drive her back."

"Oh, thank the lord. Thank you, Adele. You're a good egg, hen."

"See you soon," Adele said before bidding farewell and hanging up, and she glared at Ainslie and pointed a finger at her. "Stop worrying your mother."

"Sorry," Ainslie said again. She really didn't mean any harm or distress: she had no intention of worrying her mother, no desire to run away without warning, but she couldn't help getting herself into the wrong situations. "Thank you, Adele."

"No problem," Adele said with a sigh, poking the fire. "You'll be the death of me."

"You sound old when you say that," Ainslie said.

"You make me feel old."

"Because I'm younger than you?"

"Because you stress me out!" Adele shook her head and used the last couple of inches of hot water to make herself a small coffee, topping up her energy before she headed into town. She didn't spend a ton of time in Buck Pines, preferring to keep herself to herself, and she needed the boost in case she got caught by someone who wanted to talk.

"Right," she said when Ainslie finished her drink and she downed the rest of her coffee in one bitter swallow. She had learnt to enjoy black coffee when milk was one thing she couldn't get from the woods. "Let's go."

*

It was beginning to get dark when they set off; by the time they reached Ainslie's house, the sun had fallen and night had drawn its curtains, stitching the sky with stars. The moon hung heavy like a puppeteer orchestrating the twinkle of the night and the depth of the dark, reflected in the shimmer of the water that rippled in the breeze.

Ainslie's house was the last on the left, soft light illuminating the porch. Her mother stepped out into the cold as soon as Adele's car pulled up in the driveway, her hands clasped together like a prayer. When Ainslie tipped out of the car, Morag pulled her into a hug before she hurried around to Adele's window.

"Thank you so much, Adele," she said, her worry lines deeper in the dark. She wasn't old by a long shot, not yet forty, but eighteen years as Ainslie's mother were enough to give anyone wrinkles. Her red hair was fading, the odd wisp of grey laced in with orange.

"No problem, Morag," Adele said with a smile. Morag was one of few people in the town she could tolerate; she and Ainslie were virtually the only residents who weren't a part of the Honour Guard. They kept themselves to themselves, inoffensive and well-meaning.

"You do so much for my Ainslie, coming all the way out here and all," she said, her soft voice catching as she looked down at her pockets, searching through the detritus in her jacket. "Let me give you something for your trouble."

"You really don't need to do that," Adele said. "Ainslie's my friend."

Ainslie's face lit up, her lips not so blue when she smiled.

"Here," Morag said, holding out a ten pound note, ignoring Adele's protestations. "For petrol, if nothing else. Take it."

She did, reluctantly. As much as the money was appreciated, she hated to take it from Morag, she the woman was determined and stubborn. "Thanks, Morag. Have a great night. See you, Ainslie." She waved as she pulled out of the driveway, letting out a sigh of relief that she could head back to her cabin for a night alone, basking in nobody's company but her own. Just one stop first, armed with her newly acquired cash.

With a six-pack under her arm, Adele left the little town store minutes before it closed at seven. It wasn't often she treated herself to a drink at home, saving almost every penny she earnt, but she felt the need for a cool beer in front of the fire. In half an hour, she could do just that. As she drove, carefully navigating the tracks at night, she salivated at the thought of putting her feet up and roasting her fish over the fire.

The light of the stars and the moon disappeared when the trees crowded overhead, pulling her into the woods like a siren's song. She slowed right down, rattling over the terrain she knew so well. Part of her was tempted to even out the ground; a bigger part didn't want to make it any easier for people to reach her.

A hazy fog began to settle, hovering amongst the trees until she could only see as far as a few feet in front of her. Her headlights struggled to pierce the mist, less than half a mile from home. Squinting, she drove at a snail's pace until the lights caught a flash and she jammed on her breaks, her pulse suddenly racing. The tree had eyes. That's what it had looked like, the glimpse of an iris, until her vision settled and she realised what she was staring at.

The body of a wolf slumped against the tree, half covered by the bracken. Its eyes were barely open, its back hardly rising with each laboured breath. White fur was matted with blood and dirt, limbs limp, and it struggled to lift its head. It was big, a thick scruff around its neck and a broad jaw.

Adele flew out of the truck, scratching her hands on a thorny bush that she tore through to reach the wolf.

"Shit," she muttered. "Shit, shit, shit."

The wolf looked up at her with dark and soulful eyes, and he let out a whine.

"I'm not going to hurt you," she said, crouching down next to him. "I'm not a hunter. Not like that, anyway. I won't hurt you." She gingerly touched the bloodied fur, her own hand beginning to trickle from a gash the thorns had ripped in her skin. "You're going to be ok."

He lifted his head, sniffing her hand before he gently licked the blood. She scratched his head between his ears, trying to figure out a way to move him. He was probably as heavy as her, if not more.

"I need to move you," she said, running her hand down his back. His spine felt ok. One leg was broken but the others, though bloody, looked alright. "This will hurt, but I need to help you, ok? I'll be right back."

Dashing back to the truck, she rifled through the junk on the back seat and yanked at a muddy sheet caught beneath a few logs. They tumbled off the seat, freeing the sheet. Grabbing a couple of lengths of rope, she dimmed her headlights and fought her way back to the wolf. He was in a bad way and she grimaced at the thought of how much it would hurt to move him, but she couldn't leave him to die.

Laying down the sheet, she crouched beside him and, narrating what she was doing, she eased him onto the sheet. He whimpered with each movement as she shifted him inch by inch, gritting her teeth until he was on the sheet and she folded it over him, bunching up the material in her fists to pull him over to the truck.

"I'm sorry," she said as she planted her feet and tugged the sheet, dragging him across the rocky ground. He yelped when his body rolled over sharp stones and thorns, the unforgiving frozen ground that led to the back of the truck. Breathing hard, she let go for a moment and straightened her back, looking from the wolf to her truck.

"Bear with me a minute," she said, her hands on her hips as she judged what to do. She couldn't lift him into the back; it was too high and he was too heavy, a dead weight. Climbing into the back of the truck, she kicked aside wood and tools and a crinkling tarp to find a stack of planks and a coil of relief unfurled.

She lined up four of the planks like an unsteady ramp and hopped out of the truck, tying the two pieces of rope around the wolf. Planting herself in the truck bed, she took a deep breath and twisted the ropes around her wrists a few times before she pulled him up the makeshift ramp. It wobbled a little, one of the planks threatening to fall. It did, but not before it had fulfilled its duty.

For a moment, Adele crouched down to catch her breath and stroke the wolf's head.

"You're going to be ok," she whispered. "I won't let them hurt you."

*

Backing right up to the garage door, she threw down blankets on the cold floor before helping the wolf out of the truck, untying the sheet and lying him on the soft pile she had made him. In the light of her garage, shutting out the cold, it was easier to see what she needed to do.

With a bowl of warm water, a sponge, and a first aid kit, Adele sat cross-legged on the floor. She squeezed the sponge in the water and dabbed at the cuts, cleaning out the dirt and grit. He lay patient and calm while she did so, his eyes on her the whole time. Even when she threaded up a needle, warning him before she pierced his skin to stitch up a gaping wound in his side, he kept his gaze locked onto her.

"You got it pretty bad," she murmured, wrapping his broken leg in a tight cloth. "You came to the right place, though. You're lucky you found me."

He let out a slow whine. She met his eye.

"You agree, huh?" She gave him a funny look. "You're awfully trusting for a wolf, you know. Especially around here," she said quietly, running her eyes over his damaged body and each of the wounds she had sewn up, the cuts she had cleaned. Letting out a sigh, she met his gaze and stroked his soft fur. "If you were a regular old wolf, I don't think you'd have survived whatever attacked you."

His ears twitched. She had a feeling she knew what had attacked him. Or rather, who.

"You're safe with me," she said as she stood. "You just have to be quiet. You can stay here while you heal. I won't hurt you."

He let out a whimper, watching as she sorted through shelves of storage and brought down a heater, crouching down to plug it in. It started up with an orange glow, a slow hum as it began to warm the room that absorbed the cold.

Refilling the bowl with fresh water, she set it down close to the blankets and from the freezer, she took out a bag of entrails from the last deer she had gutted. She kept every part, even the bits she couldn't eat: those went in the freezer, waiting until the woods froze over and she thawed out the rejected meat to throw out for the wolves. Jade had caught her doing that once; she had yelled at her for feeding the wild animals.

Adele still did it. Even more since then.

Tipping the frozen guts into a bowl, she left it close to the heater to slowly thaw and she crouched down again to scratch the wolf's head, making sure he was comfortable. He rested his head back on a cushion she had lain down and let out a heavy sigh, his eyes still on her as she left, turning out the light. He wouldn't let her out of his sight. 

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and now it all kicks off . . . i'm so excited for this story, especially now that we've met our friendly neighbourhood werewolf! i hope you enjoyed this chapter and below i have added a picspam i made for ainslie, whom you'll see a lot throughout the story. if you like these kinds of aesthetics, let me know and i'll sprinkle them through my author's notes!