u

ine-oak and tupelo trees and picking my way through the inkberry or Joe-Pye weed, I find myself on a road, which I've

them from afar, but up close, the rectangular metal boxes are bigger than a swamp monster and even more intimidating. I st

Ama mutters. "Has Axel

an?" I ask, gra

" Ama says. She steps

yanking on

t and turn to

hat is from Mama. It's the head of all the wolves, the most dangerous and fearsome of them all. I long for he

ld woman with skin the color of clay and eyes like an eagle shooed us away, saying, "Your moth

my mother. So here I am. I turn to look over my shoulder in the direction of the healer's home

t this over with. Then, when he's accepted his fate is just a fancy that i

completely lost by this talk of bu

p, so you look less like a bog hag and more like what Axel wants to se

an, though I'm still no taller than her. "I'm not a bog hag,"

" Ama says. "Lone

n my fingertips across the textured surface. It feels hot, the way rocks heat in the mid

see one of the beastly cars rocketing in my direction. Mama told

s by so fast it makes its own wind-a stinky wind I've smelled

es, though." She looks me over the way Mama did last time she was thinking about

asphalt. And those things are cars. You never get in front of one when they're moving. Got it? And that, over there..." She points to a group of struc

old rags of the same color. Before we left, I wound a few rags and Spanish moss around m

ild thing. Axel expects something a bit more

this Axel man car

e and look way more sound than the little house I built. I wonder how they got their ston

ound it, a few cars sit unmoving in the places that aren't marred by long cracks

f the holes filled with dirty water. "And why

of wood and metal a wa

ng up in oblivion in the swamp, the rest of the world has been dealing with the

swamp, too," I say, feeling

ly be destroyed again and gotten the hell out of dodge. Others have built more substantive buildings that can withstand the storms." She points towa