Finn laid his head on the cement of the cellar floor, closing his eyes in gratitude. Four days over ninety degrees, and the basement was the only bearable place in the whole house. He couldn't imagine what it would be like that night, when the moon rose. Fur. So much damned fur. Lila said she'd never met such a hairy 'wolf.
Rolling on his back, he tried to visualize snow. A wide, white field, with fluffy, fat flakes drifting down out of a gray sky. Maybe a little creek running through the middle, crusted over with ice. A girl in a red cloak, walking through knee-deep drifts...
Hrm. It was no use; every time he tried to forget about her, the