Description: Prologue The South Wood The air was eerily silent as a wolf cut a silky path through the thick summertime growth of the woods. She moved as if on a mission, sweeping her gaze across old oak trees and silver maples, eyes and ears alert. A rabbit froze beneath a coil of honeysuckle vines. Its small body went still as the wolf came near. The wolf felt its little muscles tense. But she passed the rabbit without a second glance, senses trained on what lay just ahead. Something was wrong, something was very wrong, but the wolf didn''t know what. It was a feeling in her chest, drawing her forward like magic. But she knew magic, and she did not know this feeling. The wolf should have been the most dangerous thing in the woods that day. But she wasn''t. In the distance, she could sense the other four members of her prime pack. They were spread out through the South Wood, their minds linked just enough to sense one another as they searched for anything that shouldn''t be there. That tugging sensation pulled again, this time strong enough to make the wolf stumble into a quiet grove surrounded by thorny honey locust trees. It was a place she had never seen before. In the center of the grove stood a large stone. It was stormy gray, much darker than the flinty stones peppered throughout the Kansas prairie, and it glittered in the sunlight as though webbed with crystals. It was old and heavy, but completely unfamiliar to the wolf, which in itself was cause for alarm. The pack had lived on these lands for generations. How could something like this go unnoticed for so long? The wolf tipped her head to consider the stone. Then she came forward slowly. The fur along her spine roseand her snout tickled in the way it always did when danger was near. She sniffed at the air, but there was no sign of hunters or witches. At least, none that she recognized. She crept closer, but before she reached the stone, she paused. She lowered her head and closed her eyes, drawing a deep breath into her lungs. A shiver moved from the crown of her head all the way down to her toes. She followed the feeling, reaching her forelegs out in front and pushing her hips up high as the transformation rippled through her body. Her paws stretched into long fingers, her snout shortened into a nose that bent slightly to the left, her fur faded against her skin, until it wasn''t a wolf standing in the clearing anymore. It was a woman. Loose pants hung from her hips, and the green shirt she wore was battered along the hem. She pressed one hand against her chest, rubbing over the place where she still felt that strange, uncomfortable tugging. Then she stepped toward the stone on bare feet. In all her years patrolling the South Wood, she had never seen anything like this stone. It radiated energy, sending out magical probes like fishing hooks. Like the one lodged in her chest. And it had hooked her when she was nearly a quarter mile away. She decided to push back, just a little, to see what it would do. Squaring her shoulders, she began to howl. She chose a note that would push gently at the stone''s exterior, the same note she''d use to nudge the refrigerator door shut when someone in her house inevitably left it open. A small test, so she was surprised when her howl snapped back toward her as though it had encountered something electric. Whatever this stone was, it was powerful. It was wolf magic. She should leave and return with her prime pack. She could still feel them. All four were close enough that she could reach them quickly. Crow was the closest, paused along the southern bend of Blood Creek. But the hook in her chest tugged a little harder, drew her a few steps nearer. Before she knew what she was doing, the woman had raised a hand and pressed it flat against the stone. She could not resist. She felt the rough warmth of it against her palm. And suddenly, she had the sense that she had made a grave mistake. She tried to pull her hand back, but it was stuck. It was as if her skin had fused with the stone. She pulled again but with no luck. On her third tug, the stone pulled back and her hand began sinking inside it, fingers disappearing under the surface, becoming heavy and still as they vanished inside the rock. Panic shot through her lungs. "Help!" she called. Then, thinking of her pack, she began to howl. Crow was near enough to help. She only had to reach him. But the sound was cut off, muffled and muted by the magic encasing the stone. She cried out again, but her voice faded as she heard a growl like the lowest rumble of thunder. It was a warning from a stranger, and it sent a shiver of fear down her spine. "Your wolf is mine," the thunderous voice said. She spun around, as best she could with her arm sinking into the rock, but saw no one. No wolf. No movement. She couldn''t even sense her pack anymore. She was completely cut off. Completely alone. She tugged again. This time, she braced a foot against the stone and pulled as hard as she could, hard enough that she thought she might tear her own skin. But it was no use. No matter how hard she fought, the stone kept pulling. And pulling. Until the woman could move only her eyes, her mouth, and nothing else. She was surrounded by stone, sinking inside it as though it were an ocean and she were nothing more than a shell. "Please--" she gasped as the stone filled her mouth. There were tears in her eyes now. She blinked them away, still fighting, still furious and afraid. Someone would find her. Someone would come looking for her when she didn''t return. Her pack, her family would come for her. As the stone closed over her face and eyes, she caught a final glimpse of the world beyond. Someone was there. Standing in front of the stone. Looking at her with a smile on their familiar face, and she realized with a cold kind of certainty that just as the stone had drawn her inside, it had let someone else out. My friends, We don''t know each other, but if this diary has found you, then the unthinkable has happened and he has returned. I have enspelled this diary to reveal itself only to you. It is the only way I know to help. I wish I could do more. Be vigilant. Be strong. And most of all, stay together. You will need each other more than you can imagine. With greatest love, Grace Barley 1 Rock, Paper, Squishers All her life, Riley Callahan had been looking forward to becoming a real wolf. Both of her moms were werewolves, and that meant that sometime between the ages of nine and twelve, on the night of the first full moon of summer, Riley would also become one. And she''d been counting down the days, nights, and in-between times for years. Her older sister, Darcy, had turned when she was ten. She''d been a werewolf six whole years already, running with her prime pack out at Wax & Wayne, the hills and valleys and forests just outside Lawrence, Kansas, where wolves could run safely. Riley had hoped she would also turn when she was ten, but it hadn''t happened. It also hadn''t happened last year when her best friend, Stacey, turned at age eleven. Riley had been so sure they would turn together. They did everything else together--it only made sense that they would become wolves at the same time. But Stacey had turned and Riley had not, which officially made Riley the last one of their small group of friends who was still trapped in her bipedal form. But that was about to change, because this year she was twelve years old, and tonight was the first full moon of summer. In a few torturously long hours, she would finally, finally become a werewolf. In the meantime, she was in the backyard with her little brother, Milo, trying to hide grapes inside of rocks. It required a combination of two of the three forms of wolf magic: alchemy, or the magic of transformation, and lithomancy, the magic of stones. It also required practice. "Is this really the kind of stuff they teach at Tenderfoot Camp?" Milo asked as another grape made a small popping noise before disintegrating in his hands. He groaned, letting the pulp slip off his fingers into an already-gushy pile of mashed fruit. "I thought we''d be doing cool stuff like playing hide-and-call or learning how to turn sticks into fire or something. Why would I ever need to put grapes inside rocks?" Riley glared at the mess before her. Instead of a mountainous, gloopy mush, like Milo, Riley had a sticky pile of rocks. No matter what she did, the stones kept crushing the grapes. "You don''t turn sticks into fire, you ignite them with alchemy. And they don''t teach this exactly," Riley explained. Having attended Tenderfoot Camp for the past three summers, she knew the curriculum inside and out. "This is just extra practice." The real reason was that magic like this, blending one kind with another, was advanced. It was hard to master, and Riley wanted to be very good at doing difficultmagic. Like her mom, Cecelia Callahan. Mama C had started blending magic before her first transformation, and the way Mama N told it, the entire pack had been impressed. They knew from that moment on that Cecelia Callahan was destined to become a pack alpha. Riley loved that story. She loved the way Mama N''s face lit up when she told it and the way Mama C blushed. It was part of what made her special. Riley wanted people to talk about her that way one day. She wanted to make her moms proud of her and become an alpha. She wanted to be so important to her pack that they would never think about leaving her. But Milo didn''t need to know all that. "Just think, if you get good at it, then you can hide better things inside th

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