Deep in the back country of Mica Commonwealth, where the land itself seems to breathe with diseased lungs, and in the rotting hollow of a town they call Windy Mountain, something has been busy.
The inhabitants know. They have always known, in that cold, wordless place beneath reason where instinct curls up and weeps.
The outsiders who wandered in did not know, not yet. And the threat that crept in from beyond the hills? It believed itself the hunter.