"Windigo. The one with the mineshaft."
"So we drive, right? Will the ice take a truck?"
"You kidding? This time of year, that ice would take a freight train." Delorme jerked a mittened thumb in the direction of Lake Nipissing. "Make sure you dress warm," she said. "That lake wind, it's cold as hell."
Reprinted from Forty Words for Sorrow by Giles Blunt by permission of G.P. Putnam's Sons. Copyright © June 2001, Giles Blunt. All rights reserved. This excerpt, or any parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.
Blood at the Root
"A gripping, timely, and important examination of American racism."
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