’ ‘White out?’ ‘Yeah. Blizzard,’ I explained. ‘The can’t-see-a-foot-in-front-of-your-face type stuff.’ I cocked my head. ‘Just wher... are you from, anyway?’ A quick grin made his eyes dance. ‘Cher…can’t you tell? I’m just a good ol’ Cajun boy,’ he drawled, sweeping into a low bow. I cursed the butterflies that had taken up residence in my stomach, and busied myself making a nest out of loose hay and dusty cotton. Stretching across the blankets to smooth out the corners, I thought I heard a low. The darkness was really there. He had crossed someone very powerful.On the swampThe voice seem to come at her from every direction."Little missy, be not afraid of me, I be not a hunter of run-a-ways, you're safe, no one shall ever harm you again. This here land be mine and no one dares enter my woods without my leave." The voice was old and crackling sounding."Come child, come to Mama Shargo," it ordered.The boat started to drift toward the land and voice. Then she saw the boat was going. More

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