CHAPTER 12
The stand of white Birch stood out sharply against the dark backdrop of the forest. They melded at the base with the snow cover, and seemed to flow upward from it, shining like a beacon among the blackness to any watching eyes in the winter night. There were no eyes, but had there been, they would have noticed the squat form of Pierre Twofeathers standing motionless among the white barked trees. His human shape stood out plainly, framed by the stark, leafless white trunks around him. He was not concerned about being seem, for he knew that there was no one within miles of the old house.