Ellen Cooney - August 5, 2014
Houghton Mifflin Harcourt
"It was dusk on a winter day, and from high on the mountain came barking, drifting down above the snow peals of a bell, one, two, three, four, more, just to say the light was leaving, but that was all right: here I am, I'm a dog and all is well.
At the inn on the flat of the lowland, Mrs. Auberchon made her way upstairs, grumbling to herself. But she paused out of habit to listen. She was a large-frame woman of fifty, with the outer crust of anyone who used to be tender. Her name was Lucille, but no one used it. She was Mrs. Auberchon only: dependable, competent, solitary Mrs. Auberchon, always there, always far away, even if you were standing right in front of her."
What do you think? Would you keep reading?
Feel free to join us by linking your First Chapter post below