THE late afternoon sun slanted through the blinds, striping the walls with long golden lines. Thalia paced restlessly across her bedroom floor, the creak of aging wood under her feet marking her every step like a ticking clock. Her arms were folded tightly against her chest, her lips pursed, and her thoughts tangled in a web of worry.

It had been weeks.

Weeks since Xaniyah left Boston for the Black Fur Pack, a place which to her, sounded more like a ghost town than a home. It has been weeks ...