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PROLOGUE

Goldie

W hen I was younger, I wandered off from my parents' cottage. I got lost. I cried. I was five years old, walking the woods at night, hearing animals scurrying past me, seeing ominous creatures slinking around.

I found myself by a brook, collapsing and covering my face as I wept, knowing I’d never get home, never again feel the warmth of my bed or taste the sweet flavor of my mother’s porridge she’d give me when I first woke.

But I hadn't been alone. Not the entire time.

It had found me, this creature I only heard about whispered amongst the villagers.

The bear-beasts were myths, things parents told their children before bed to keep them inside, to make them fearful of what lurked in the dark.

Beasts, monsters… the very offspring of the devil himself.

It had found me crying out for my mother.

The creature had been so much bigger than me. It was covered in fur, his body nothing like a human’s. I knew I should have been terrified. It had paws instead of hands. Claws instead of nails.

But when it crouched in front of me, its boxy head tilted to the side, its rounded ears twitching back and forth as if it were taking in the sounds of the wilderness, I felt nothing but ease and comfort.

I knew it wouldn’t hurt me.

The beast hadn’t said a word. To this day, I didn’t know if it even spoke my language. But no words were needed as it held its paw out, waiting for me to slip my hand into it.

And I had.

It led me through the woods and back to my family’s cottage. It waited at the tree line, hidden amongst the shadows and foliage as I walked away and toward the only protection I’d ever known.

I looked back at the creature before entering, seeing its golden, glowing eyes watching me. And then it lifted that massive paw in what I knew was a farewell gesture. And before I turned back around, I saw two more sets of golden eyes, hidden but glowing amongst the shadowy forest… trained right on me.

I never saw the bear-beast again, but I felt it— them —watching me for years after.