First she saw the tracks, clear but beginning to blur as the wind whipped up the powder-dry snow. Wolf tracks. Ahead of her. Then, out of the corner of her eye - a shape, outlined against the tree line. Behind her. Now out to one side, driving her like a sheep dog. Stumbling, panting, she struggled down towards the village and safety. She sensed it closing in, huge and silent. Terrified, she looked around. And saw it rearing up, reaching up at er with its forepaws, lurching and determined.. Not a wolf. A follower. A half-beast, half-human nightmare out of Scandinavian folklore. A creature come not just to kill, but to steal a new shape.