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Despite the general appearance of a dirty,  wandering hobo, he looked rather young under the grime and exuded a nervous energy.

Ina stood quickly out of her rocking chair, the half-knit wool scarf she had been working on tumbling to the wood plank porch along with the needles she'd gotten from Switzerland for her last birthday.

And then, despite his desperate demeanor, he smiled.    Awkwardly, but sincerely. What made it most memorable for Ina was the fact that his two canine teeth were nearly an inch long and tapered to perfect points.

Fangs. Like the wolves. Like snakes she'd seen in the   Tennessee bogs. Like the bats she found roosting in the rafters of the family's little sheep barn.

"You must come with me, girl," the man said, in a th...

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