Five year old Amy Robinson lay under the wide boughs of an evergreen tree, cold and damp. Blood oozed from the wound on her head. Clutched in Amy’s one hand was her mud-splattered rag doll.
Next to the little girl lay a wild animal, a wolf, seemingly sharing its warmth. Amy woke and had no idea where she was or why and could not remember her name or any details of her past. She saw the animal and petted it, thinking it was a dog. Dazed, she looked to her left then to her right. In both directions the muddy mountain-road disappeared around the bends. When the wolf led her into the woods she followed.