Prologue

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Clearwater was the last exit on the highway before you truly entered the Rockies.

The town was nestled in the valley of three jagged peaks with some of the highest tree lines in the region. It meant Grizzlies, wolves, elk, and moose gathered in the expanded territory. It also meant the lumber industry hadn't quite died out yet.

Dad relocated our family of two to this valley town twenty miles up the highway from our previous town of Munkston so he could take the position  of Mountain Ranger for Clearwater and Three Peaks Valley.

That was at the end of August. The valley was a deep, lush green and Clearwater River gushed down from the North-South Pass. The air was warm and the breeze was mountain-fresh and pine scented. Tourists rented canoes and kayaks for one last trip into the bush. School hadn't started quite yet, and everything was a lot like Munkston, where I had grown up.  Everything was normal.

With the coming of winter, it felt like nothing was going to be the same.


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