The Forest of Lost Souls

by Dean Koontz

She has long been of the land. She’s been formed by the truths of the wilderness, by the wonder and the myths that nature inspires, by hard experience, by love and loss, by the prophecy of a traveling seer in a white robe and yellow sneakers.

Hope is armor against despair, and as her uncle taught her, patience is a polish that keeps that armor bright.

Vida is inconsolable. As she circles through the small house obsessively, every item inspires memories, and though all of them are good, they don’t assuage her grief.

Sherlock, Whimsey, and Marple—

Book names. Doyle, Sayers & Christie

Sam Crockett likes a few people, despises a few, and isn’t sure what he thinks about most of them—but he loves all dogs.

The dogs are not affronted by being offered the woman’s panties instead of a blouse or a scarf, and though Sam is offended on their behalf, he doesn’t give voice to his irritation. The dogs possess more dignity than these four men. Sam knows that to be true, even though Vector and his companions don’t, and knowing it is enough for him to accept the insult in silence. The dogs know it, too.

she breathes through her mouth; the piney fragrance is so strong that it isn’t merely a scent, but also a pungent flavor—now medicinal, now janitorial—