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s e v e n  y e a r s  e a r l i e r

THE SUN HAD already gone. It never seemed to hang around if it bothered to appear at all in the depths of December, dropping off the edge of the world long before night began to fall, and it had taken with it the last scrap of weak heat that had kept the temperature above freezing. The cold had set in thirty minutes ago when mercury had dipped just below zero, though a vicious wind made it even more numbing.

The snow would come soon. In the deepest part of the night, the puddles that slicked the roads would freeze and the rushing snow would hide the deadly ice. It would fall hard and fast, sprinkling the town in a layer of white like a dusting of petals from the lily of the valley: beautiful, but deadly. Once the snow arrived, it had a habit of hanging around: the bleak hamlet of Buck Pines hardly ever saw the sun once winter crept out of the clutches of autumn.

Buck Pines was a drop in the ocean, a tiny smudge on the map that had long since been forgotten by all but those who called it home. Once a thriving community, the thousands had dwindled to a couple of hundred who stubbornly dug their nails into the desolation that would take their last breath. The shadows would steal their souls, another stone appearing in the decrepit cemetery, with no-one to fill the space they left behind.

The dark little town lay nestled deep in the crook of Fallain Valley, a cleave hacked out of the Scottish Highlands like a scar between the mountains, the craggy rocks giving way to pine trees that stretched up in search of light. A narrow road trekked through the town from north to south, curving through the thick forest that enclosed the tiny settlement, and the track that stretched eastwards became a bumpy road that led to the nearest big town of Penlark, thirty miles away.

Three times a day, an ancient bus made the journey there and back, trundling over the potholes until tarmac became gravel and gravel turned to dirt. Each morning, it passed through as the sun rose to carry the last handful of children to school and at lunchtime it ferried pensioners into town. Each afternoon, it brought them back an hour after the last bell of the day had rung.

On that cold Friday, the last day of term before the Christmas break, it came to a stop at the dusty petrol station with a sigh as the doors creaked open. It was only lunchtime, too early for the students who wouldn't arrive home for the next three hours. Except for one.

Adele Shepherd was the only person to tip out into the cold, her feet scuffing the rock-hard dirt. She shoved her hands deep into the pockets of her raincoat, her chin buried in the scarf she had wound three times around her neck, and her heavy hood almost covered her eyes. Her fingers clenched into fists against the cold as she stalked towards the rundown diner that felt like it had jumped straight out of the nineteen fifties.

Elbowing the door open, her hand curled around three loose coins in her pocket as she headed towards the counter. The money was supposed to have been for school lunch but she hadn't had a chance to eat when she had been called into the headmaster's office as soon as she had arrived that morning at half past eight.

Report cards were in. A string of Es had trailed beneath her name, because that's the lowest grade we can give, the head had explained. Every single subject was a failure, and not for the first time. A persistent problem, her form tutor had said: a deeply unsettling attitude towards academics. An attitude problem, the head had agreed, that had permeated every aspect of their decision. In the past fifteen months, she had missed more lessons than she had attended: there was no way she would pass her exams when the work she did was poor and sloppy. She was a stain on their records. They had no choice but to ask her to leave.

Except they weren't asking. They were telling. Every warning letter had gone unheeded, every phone call unanswered. Adele didn't tell them that the number she had given them was her own, that each letter had been intercepted and burnt. They didn't need to know that: the school board had already reached the end of their tether with her. No more second chances. No more lifelines. She was out.

And it was down to her to tell her sister.

Her final show of disrespect had been to storm out of the office without a word, leaving her school ID on the desk, but it was all an act. She struggled to care when she hated school, the stifling environment that smothered her with its focus on tests and papers and grades and everything she knew she didn't need to know; she couldn't bring herself to worry about her future when she knew there was no further education written in her stars.

Adele had no idea what her future held, but she knew what it didn't.

The diner was empty. That was no surprise at two o'clock on a Friday. Everyone had had their lunch already. She stuck out like a sore thumb when she headed up to the counter with her money in her hand, casting her eye over the board above the coffee machine and tapping her foot on a cracked white tile, surrounded by red squares.

"I'll be right with you, hen," said the middle-aged woman behind the counter, in the middle of changing out the coffee filters. When she turned around, her expression changed from warm greeting to surprise. "Oh, Adele! You're chittering, ya wee bairn! Don't you have a winter coat? That thing will never keep you warm."

"It's fine, I'm not that cold," she said. That was a lie. The two-minute walk from the bus to the diner had been enough for the cold to set into her bones, her thin raincoat offering no protection from the chill. She did have a proper winter coat – she had a couple, a necessity when seventy days of the year saw snow and more than two hundred saw the rain – but one was at home and the other had been left at school in her hurry to leave.

"You look like you could do with a warming up," the woman said. "What can I get you?"

"Just a hot chocolate, please," she said, swallowing a shiver. Her teachers said she had poor manners and a problem with respect but that wasn't true. She just had a problem with them, and that was something she struggled to mask. Respect was a two-way street and she didn't want to be the only car on the road.

"All the trimmings, hen?"

"How much is that?"

"Three fifty. Two eighty without."

Adele pursed her lips at the three pounds in her hand. "Just the normal one, please," she said, passing the coins across the counter. A couple of minutes later, she was handed her twenty pence change and her hot chocolate and she took a seat by the window. The legs scraped on the tiles when she pulled it out, a deafening sound when it was the only one.

She wrapped both hands around the mug. Three hours to go until she was supposed to meet her sister by the statue in the square. No amount of time could prepare her for that, though. There was nowhere to hide, no way to keep her sister from finding out that she had been expelled, and all she could do now was prepare for the onslaught. Tucking her chin against her chest, she let the heat from the hot chocolate warm her cheeks, her shoulders hunched and her knees pressed together.

All she wanted was to be home, to light a fire and watch the flickering flames as they thawed her cold skin, but she would just have to wait. Unlike everyone else in Buck Pines, whose homes stood amongst clusters of abandoned houses in the derelict patch of land, she and her sister lived in a cabin in the woods that encircled the tiny town. It was hard to reach, a treacherous seven-mile slog through the forest that hugged the darkness close: too far too walk, especially when her coat kept out the cold as much as it would keep out fire. It would be quicker to wait, counting down the minutes until Jade came to get her.

For five years, Adele and her sister had lived alone in the cabin that had once belonged to their grandmother, the cabin they had once shared with her. Jade was eight years older, something she held over her little sister as much as she could. She was the grown-up; she made the decisions: since the age of eighteen, she had been in charge and it wasn't quite pride with which she wore that badge, but something closer to duty. Her shoulders bore her responsibility like a burden.

Adele held her mug to her lips and tried not to let the dread set in.

The bell chimed above the door, once when it opened and once when it shut. A gust of freezing air swirled in, sending a shiver through Adele, and she looked up when she caught a waft of familiar perfume. When she locked eyes with her sister, she froze.

Jade headed straight over to her, her eyes almost black beneath heavy eyebrows. Her jaw set, she curled her fingers around the chair opposite her sister but she didn't pull it out. Standing gave her a power play, looming over Adele.

"What're you doing here?" she asked, her voice curt. Before Adele could answer, she continued. "Why aren't you at school? What did you do?"

Adele glanced up at the woman behind the counter, who was trying to be inconspicuous as she listened to the conversation. Jade followed her gaze and pressed her lips tightly together, sucking her cheeks in. Grabbing Adele's elbow, she gave her a sharp tug.

"We're going home," she hissed, "and you're going to explain yourself."

Adele didn't move. She wasn't finished with her drink yet. Digging her elbows into her sides, she tightened her grip on her mug and brought it to her lips, sipping the sweet chocolate.

"Adele. We're going. Now."

"I'm not finished," Adele muttered, her voice short.

Jade's eyes darkened. "Yes, you are."

"No, I'm not."

"I said, you are. You're not even supposed to be here."

She planted her hand on Adele's shoulder, her fingers digging in through her thin coat, and she pulled her out of her seat, marching her out of the diner. Adele kept her lips sealed, her expression blank, until they were out in the cold and she squirmed away from Jade's hand.

"Get off me," she said, rubbing her shoulder.

Jade came to a stop when they reached her car. "What the hell is going on, Adele? Why aren't you at school right now? None of the other kids are back."

"I'm not a kid."

"I hate to break it to you, but you're still a child. You're fifteen, so stop trying to act like an adult," Jade snapped, yanking open the driver's door. "You know what? Save it until we get back."

*

It took thirty-two minutes to drive the seven miles to the heart of Elk Woods. Every single minute was silent as Adele sat with her arms tightly crossed, staring out of the window, and Jade drove carefully with both hands fixed on the wheel as though glued to the leather.

The second they arrived at the cabin, Adele tipped out of the car and headed straight to the kitchen, itching to light a fire in the hearth for a little warmth. There was no heat in the ancient wood cabin, built almost a hundred years ago, so she had become an expert fire-builder from a young age. She was handy with an axe, too: her grandmother had shown her how to fell a tree, how to chop the wood without hurting herself.

Jade raced in after her and slamming the front door shut. The crash reverberated around the whole house. "What the hell is wrong with you? Are you going to explain yourself or am I going to have to ring your school and ask why you're skipping out?"

"I was expelled," Adele said. The blunt words seemed to hit Jade right in the chest, her jaw dropping.

"What?"

"You heard me."

"Yes, I heard you. But I don't understand. How were you expelled? The school didn't call me. They didn't warn me. They can't do that. What did you even do?"

"I failed everything," Adele said. There was no point beating around the bush. There was going to be a blow-up and she just wanted to get it over and done with. "I don't actually remember the last time I didn't fail something. And all my teachers hate me. I hate them too."

"What the ... they can't just expel you out of the blue, Adele. They can't just kick you out without telling me. I'm your guardian, for crying out loud. They didn't even try to get in touch."

"They did, actually," she said. "I hid the letters."

Jade covered her face with her hands. "Oh my God," she muttered. "I can't believe this. I can't believe you, Adele. What the hell do you think you're playing at, getting yourself expelled? What good is that going to do?"

Adele took a breath to stop herself from launching into an angry tirade. "I hate it and I suck at it. There's no point me even going. I don't learn anything. Nothing useful."

Jade spluttered, on the verge of laughing in the face of the shock. "What, so you just stopped going?"

Adele said nothing. Her silence spoke volumes.

"God, I can't believe you. I can't deal with you Adele," Jade said, shaking her head. Her voice grew louder as she began to yell. "You're throwing your life away and you ruin every single opportunity you get. What do you expect me to do with you now? You think you can just laze around the house while I work? You think you'll ever get a job without an education?"

"I don't need school," Adele said. "It does nothing for me. I don't need it and I don't need a babysitter. I can get by just fine on my own."

Jade laughed, a sharp burst that seemed to echo around the kitchen, mocking Adele. "Are you crazy? You couldn't make it a week on your own. You've never been on your own. I do everything."

Adele narrowed her eyes. "I can hunt; I can fish. I know how to kill a deer and I know which berries are poisonous. I can build a fire. I could live alone."

Jade shook her head, laughing at her sister. "You can't even use the oven," she spat, her hands clenched on her hips.

"You hate this place. You hate living here. You're always complaining about it; I know you'd rather live in Buck Pines. Why don't you just leave if you want to so badly?"

"Because I made a promise." A reluctant promise. "I promised our grandmother that I would look after you until you were old enough to look after yourself. You can't even keep yourself in school. What makes you think you could make something of yourself?"

Adele's cheeks burned with rage at how little faith her sister had in her, digging her nails into her palms to stop herself from lashing out. She would never get her own way if Jade felt threatened, which would only make her raise her hackles.

"I am old enough, Jade," she said, her voice measured. "I can look after myself. Nana taught me everything. I don't need you to hold my hand anymore." She ran both hands through her hair, her pulse racing in her ears. "You don't want to be here. Can you honestly say you want to live here?"

"I can't leave you here," Jade said. "It's dangerous out here. You know what's out there, Adele. You of all people."

She was teetering on the cusp of agreement. Adele could feel it; she could taste freedom.

"Give it a chance. You want to be in town; I want to be here. We fight every single day." She gritted her jaw. "It's exhausting. I can't take it."

Jade just stared, her eyes glassing over as she weighed up the options.

"We can't live together for much longer," Adele said. "We'll just end up killing each other."

"You'll get killed living out here on your own. It's not safe," she said, more likely to clear the words off her conscience that because she actually cared, Adele thought.

"I've made it fifteen years. I can handle myself. You know I can – I'm a better hunter than you and I know these woods inside out. I know every way out; I know where to avoid. I'm not stupid, Jade." She faltered and added, "Yes, I failed my classes, but I'm not stupid. I can make it on my own."

"And what if you can't?"

"Then I'll call you," she said, taking her phone out of her pocket. It was an old model from almost a decade ago, good for nothing but the odd text or call, but it got the job done. It had been her grandmother's before it had been hers and she was reluctant to let go of it.

"I think this is a bad idea."

"You won't know unless you give it a go."

"What if you get yourself killed?"

Adele shrugged. "Then you've got one less burden to worry about."

Jade narrowed her eyes.

Adele sighed. "I can't remember the last day we didn't fall out. There's no point pretending this is fun for either of us. You're my sister, and I do love you, but I can't live with you."

"You're a child."

"I'm not, Jade. I know what I'm doing. Nana always said so." She crouched down to the hearth and continued to build the fire she had started, constructing kindling around a ball of newspaper like a game of jenga inferno. She packed the paper tight to force the sticks around it to take on the flames, and she placed logs around the sides. Jade watched her every move, her arms crossed.

Adele watched the flames grow, the flickering light reflected in her eyes. Unzipping her damp coat, she laid it out to dry and held out her hands to warm her chilly skin, and she looked up at Jade. Sometimes she didn't feel as though they were related at all, as though the world had thrown them together and told them to play happy families. They had never been able to do that, and Adele wondered where it had all gone wrong. A glance at their history threw up plenty of answers.

To look at, though, it was obvious that they were sisters: they shared dark eyes and strong brows, their father's voice and their mother's skin. James was the last in a long line of Shepherd men born and raised in the Scottish Highlands while Fiona was a first-generation citizen, born to a Nigerian mother and an Indigenous Australian father.

Adele didn't remember them. All she had were Jade's memories and her grandmother's legacy. Neither were enough; both were fading.

"Give me a chance," she said, her voice growing as the fire did. She shrugged. "If it works, we both get what we want."

Jade dropped down into the worn armchair. She picked at a loose strand of thread on the arm, her eyes cast down at the floor. With a sigh, she lifted her head to meet Adele's eye, and she rolled her lips between her teeth before she took a deep breath. Lifting her hand up, she let it drop back onto the cushion with a soft thump.

"Ok."

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and there we have it

i'm so excited to start a new genre and to all of you reading this, thank you so much for taking a chance on this book! i can't wait to share it with you guys and i really hope you enjoy it. please let me know what you think - your comments mean the world to me. this prologue is set seven years ago: the remainder of the story will be set in the current day (november - december 2017). 

i love to chat to you guys so feel free to find me on snapchat (hennwick), instagram (hennwick), twitter (hennwick), pinterest (hennwick), ask.fm (dipthewick) and as this is a nanowrimo novel, you can follow my progress on there - my username is dipthewick