hddjdfkjdf9

No,
something was after her, or so it appeared from the bizarre markings
left by footprints, paw prints, or whatever in the winter snow. Terror
slowly mounted. The woman was trapped, hunted, doomed. As Chapter Seven
ended and Eight began, she hatched her escape plan against seemingly
insurmountable odds. Then, complicating an already desperate situation,
came the blizzard. Gale force winds, blinding snows, chilling
temperatures conspired to keep her at the mercy of the wild beast that
stalked her.
With a thud, Anne put the book facedown onto her lap, heart pounding in
vicarious fright. Mystery, my foot, she mused with regret, this book is
sheer horror! It wouldn't have been so bad if she'd picked it up last
night or last week in New York. Here, though, she was alone, isolated
from the familiar, a good three miles from a shred of civilization.
Spooked, it took her a minute to realize that what she'd assumed to be
the thundering of her pulse was the thunder outside. Lightning followed
quickly, brightening the dark side of the room for a shocking instant,
its blue-white gleam icy in comparison to the warm orange glow of the
fire.
Hastily she added several more logs, desperately needing to put the book
down, desperately needing to read on, knowing that she wouldn't be able
to sleep until the last page had been turned and the mystery solved. She
raised the book again to another deafening clap of thunder. It vibrated
through the house along with tongued bolts of lightening.
Anne's nerves prickled then, because, in the thunder's wake came another
noise. This one was more human and threatening. A car was approaching,
coming nearer, loud enough to be heard above the storm. It reached her
front door and stopped.
Huddled in the chair, she held her breath. It was twelve thirty-five,
well past normal calling hours even in the city. Perhaps one of the
villagers wanted to warn her about the storm. Perhaps someone was lost.
Perhaps ... perhaps ... A furious pounding came at the