“A chilly gusty wind came whipping along, kicking up all the leaves. You could smell woodsmoke in the air, and something else. Cheryl couldn't quite place what it was. Something cold, something sharp, it reminded her of winter. Winter was on the way. The almost-bare limbs of the hickory tree showed black against the full yellow moon and then disappeared and came back as the moon popped in and out of the pufly dark clouds that ran across it.”