a little while. We can both get warm together.” She shivered again as the November wind picked up. The wolf watched her with its serene eyes and then dropped its head to its paws, a sign of welcoming and acceptance. Cordelia curled up next to the large beast, taking care to hide herself behind the animal, and cover up her bag with the hay that was in the crate. The wolf was so warm, it was like snuggling up to a cozy hearth. For some reason, she felt no fear with this animal. As she lay silently next to it, looking up at the stars, the wolf sniffed her hair and then licked the side of her face. She had gotten the seal of approval. The hard part was over. Now she had to wait until the driver came back to take her on the first leg of her trip.
The moon made the wolf’s coat shimmer and the lazy November stars with the sound of the ocean waves nearby made her sleepy again. It wasn’t until she awoke a few hours later that she realized she had left Salem—and Hawthorne—far behind, perhaps forever.
Chapter 8
THE PAGE OF CUPS
A kind, sympathetic dreamer. Imagination. May indicate a time for quiet reflection. A gentle, poetic, quiet, and artistic person gifted with much foresight.
T he sun was just about to rise and she was completely engulfed by the wolf. It had wrapped its body around hers, as if she were a pup, successfully hiding her from the driver or anyone at Wolf Hollow. When she awoke, she realized that the truck was now parked inside a barn. The driver must not have wanted to awaken the wolf to put him back into his pen. Cordelia was thankful for that, because she could easily have been discovered—and the authorities most likely would have been alerted.
“Hey, boy, you took good care of me,” she whispered. The wolf perked its ears up and then lazily rolled aside, allowing her to move to the back of the truck. She grabbed her backpack and patted the wolf’s head.
Cordelia let herself out of the barn and started walking along the country road when several howls floated toward her through the chilly morning air. It sounded as if they were wishing her luck on her journey. Unbeknownst to Cordelia, at that exact moment back in Hawthorne, another howl ripped through the early morning hours as Rebecca, her mother, was taken to Ravenswood; she cried out for the daughter she had lost, and feared she would never see again.
Cordelia walked into the woods surrounding Wolf Hollow, lost in her own thoughts. After learning the truth about her father, her mother, Maddie, everyone, the world seemed changed somehow. Cordelia tried to figure out where to go next. The woods seemed to be closing in. The trees, now half naked, having lost their autumn glory, reached out to her with gnarled fingers. The wind called to her in whispers, beckoning her into its darkened depths.
As the shadows grew long and a chill crept into the air, Cordelia was overcome with an intense desire to leave the dark forest and head back toward the road. She picked her way down a rough and twisting path, not sure where she was headed, but felt a tug in her gut that told her she was going in the right direction. After a little while, she happened upon a tiny house that looked straight out of a fairy tale. A small wooden sign that said THE CROW’S NEST hung from a wrought-iron post. It was just a little house with clapboard shutters and crisscrossed windowpanes—a remnant from the old New England villages, no doubt. The sign had faded, but the large black crow in the center was still freshly painted. A tiny sign on the door frame said FORTUNES READ HERE . For some reason Cordelia felt compelled to enter. Maybe someone could help. Cordelia realized then that she had nowhere else to turn to.
Approaching the bright red door, Cordelia turned the handle and noticed that it was shaped like a claw. Bells tinkled gently as she walked inside. The small room was filled with colors and smells. Candles were burning at every corner of the room, brimming with
The moon made the wolf’s coat shimmer and the lazy November stars with the sound of the ocean waves nearby made her sleepy again. It wasn’t until she awoke a few hours later that she realized she had left Salem—and Hawthorne—far behind, perhaps forever.
Chapter 8
THE PAGE OF CUPS
A kind, sympathetic dreamer. Imagination. May indicate a time for quiet reflection. A gentle, poetic, quiet, and artistic person gifted with much foresight.
T he sun was just about to rise and she was completely engulfed by the wolf. It had wrapped its body around hers, as if she were a pup, successfully hiding her from the driver or anyone at Wolf Hollow. When she awoke, she realized that the truck was now parked inside a barn. The driver must not have wanted to awaken the wolf to put him back into his pen. Cordelia was thankful for that, because she could easily have been discovered—and the authorities most likely would have been alerted.
“Hey, boy, you took good care of me,” she whispered. The wolf perked its ears up and then lazily rolled aside, allowing her to move to the back of the truck. She grabbed her backpack and patted the wolf’s head.
Cordelia let herself out of the barn and started walking along the country road when several howls floated toward her through the chilly morning air. It sounded as if they were wishing her luck on her journey. Unbeknownst to Cordelia, at that exact moment back in Hawthorne, another howl ripped through the early morning hours as Rebecca, her mother, was taken to Ravenswood; she cried out for the daughter she had lost, and feared she would never see again.
Cordelia walked into the woods surrounding Wolf Hollow, lost in her own thoughts. After learning the truth about her father, her mother, Maddie, everyone, the world seemed changed somehow. Cordelia tried to figure out where to go next. The woods seemed to be closing in. The trees, now half naked, having lost their autumn glory, reached out to her with gnarled fingers. The wind called to her in whispers, beckoning her into its darkened depths.
As the shadows grew long and a chill crept into the air, Cordelia was overcome with an intense desire to leave the dark forest and head back toward the road. She picked her way down a rough and twisting path, not sure where she was headed, but felt a tug in her gut that told her she was going in the right direction. After a little while, she happened upon a tiny house that looked straight out of a fairy tale. A small wooden sign that said THE CROW’S NEST hung from a wrought-iron post. It was just a little house with clapboard shutters and crisscrossed windowpanes—a remnant from the old New England villages, no doubt. The sign had faded, but the large black crow in the center was still freshly painted. A tiny sign on the door frame said FORTUNES READ HERE . For some reason Cordelia felt compelled to enter. Maybe someone could help. Cordelia realized then that she had nowhere else to turn to.
Approaching the bright red door, Cordelia turned the handle and noticed that it was shaped like a claw. Bells tinkled gently as she walked inside. The small room was filled with colors and smells. Candles were burning at every corner of the room, brimming with
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