AllFreeNovel
Share Us
CHAPTER ONE
WHEN SHE LEFTMontana at seventeen, Jolie Maxwell knew she would never move back.
It had taken sixteen years, an advertisement, and the death of Wendell Hill to prove her wrong.
Shivering into her down jacket, she drifted idly back and forth on the porch swing of her newly leased cabin and breathed in mountain air so sharp and pure that her lungs ached with it.
Peace. No roar of rush-hour traffic, no arguments coming at her through a condominium wall. Only the occasional sharp whistle of a marmot on the rocky slopes rising above the cabin or the distant bugle of elk broke the silence.
Grinning, she surveyed the clearing carved from twenty fenced acres of dense pine and aspen.
Late-March snow still gleamed in the shadows of the trees like heaps of whipped cream. A breeze rattled through the few remaining aspen leaves from last fall.
It was all too beautiful to be true.
A long, furry neck stretched over the porch railing. Velvety lips flapped. Bright eyes studied her with interest.
The neck and head extended farther, like a horizontal periscope, until those lips wiggled against her nape like a couple of fuzzy fingertips.
“Dolly!” Jolie laughed as she scooted out of range.
The llama hummed in response, its large, liquid black eyes watching Jolie with interest. She lifted her head abruptly and stared at the edge of the clearing.
Leaves rustled. A twig snapped.
Dolly snorted, spun around. Then took off at a gallop toward the sounds with her head high and ears pinned back. Her companion Sadie, a nearly blind ewe, bleated piteously andtrotted several steps in pursuit before pulling to an ungainly halt.
The llama hated dogs and coyotes, and right now some terrified four-footer was probably fleeing through the underbrush at the sight of such a bizarre creature barreling in its direction.
The moment Dolly disappeared into the brush, something—or someone—screamed in fear.
Jolie launched to her feet. The porch swing swung wildly as she took the deck steps two at a time and hit the yard at a dead run. What on earth would a child be doing way up here?
At the edge of the timber, Jolie paused. She heard nothing—no movement, no sound of a llama crashing through the brush. No squeals or snorts or cries of human terror.
And then she heard a faint sound.A whimper.
Shifting direction, she sped through the ghostly pale aspen and prickly spruce fronds, sweeping branches aside with her upraised hands.
She found Dolly beside a tumble of Volkswagen-size boulders near the fence line, her ears pricked forward, her head lowered. She was humming at something hidden in the rocks.
The llama definitely wouldn’t be offering comfort to any four-legged predators. Jolie approached slowly, patted Dolly’s fluffy back in greeting, then moved closer.
Wedged between the boulders, as tightly as he could manage, was a boy—maybe nine or ten—his head tucked down and arms wrapped around his upraised knees. He was clearly expecting to die.
“Hey there, buddy. My friend Dolly is sure happy to see you.”
The boy opened one brown eye, then the other, and looked up at her. Tear tracks glistened through the dirt on his face.
“She’s a llama,” Jolie continued easily, offering him a smile. “Did you hear her humming? She’s worried about you.”
He darted glances between Jolie and Dolly, clearly afraid to trust either one.
“My name’s Jolie. I moved into that cabin over in the clearing two days ago. Who are you?” When he didn’t answer, she studied him for a moment, then cocked her head. “Maybe you’re...one of the woodland fairies who live around here.”
Some color came back into his pale cheeks as he rolled his eyes at her. “Am not!”
“One of the elves?”
