The busted-up blue Mustang groaned in the wind, its plastic-covered windows fluttering like weak lungs. Leora sat in the back seat, a stick braced against her knee, blade scraping it down to a sharp point. Shavings collected around her boots, the only snow she’d see inside the car tonight.

She hummed under her breath — an old tune she didn’t remember the words to — until a soft snore broke her rhythm. Carno, the husky pup, was curled against her ankle, his head warm and heavy. Leora glanced down at him, lips twitching in the faintest smile.

“You need a bath, kid,” she murmured. “You stink.”

Her fingers ached from the cold, but she went back to sharpening. Arrows didn’t make themselves, and winter didn’t care.