Everyone always said that it was Alice Malosis and her Siberian husky’s fault that forty-seven children had disappeared on that February night.

Still, seventeen-year-old Alice Malosis couldn’t care less. Once the children had disappeared, life practically melted right into her hands. Although it was terrifying to know that all the children had vanished because of small Alice, she had gotten over it peacefully. After all, something like that would never weigh so much on her conscience.

That night, with her grandfather’s wrinkled hand holding hers, Alice drifted into a quiet sleep. Besides, none of these things were her fault.

It was Totomas. That stupid dog had almost gotten her killed that night. No, she thought furiously in her dreams, it’s Toadhead now.

Totomas is now Toadhead to her…