Follow Láilá into a vast new world full of fantasy and imagination a place called Aurora. She embarks on an epic adventure to find answers to all the hidden questions surrounding who she is and how she came to be. She is an innocent and selfless in her pursuit for answers and the truth behind her mysterious white hair.
Running with Wolves is the first book of five in the Aurora Chronicles a coming of age fantasy following a twelve year old girl into a journey of self discovery. Though what she learns about herself and where she came from might not have been for the best.
The fantasy world is in peril of being destroyed. The warmth is quickly approaching.
Can one small girl stop the warmth and restore Aurora to being the winter wonderland it once was?
All hope rests on her small shoulders.
Excerpt:
Láilá was woken up by the warm arctic sun rays tingling her face. She lied in bed, completely still, for a few seconds before she finally remembered.
Today is her twelfth birthday!
And she can smell chocolate cake!
She ran down the wooden stairs of the little hut to the bottom floor, which was used both as a kitchen and as a living room. The old woman who stood next to the big stove turned towards Láilá with a smile.
“Happy birthday, little bunny,” she said. “mami, you can really stop calling me little bunny. I’m already twelve.”
The old woman smiled. “You will always be my little bunny, little bunny. My treasure.”
Láilá laughed. “I know the story, mami.”
“We waited for years and years for a child, with no results. We almost lost hope, until-“
“Until the stork came and brought me along and we were happy ever since. Come on, mami. I’m not a kid anymore. I don’t believe in these things.”
“Well, since you are not a kid anymore,” said the old woman with a cunning twinkle in her eyes, “I suppose you also don’t want cake.”
“Oh, I do!” cried Láilá. “I do!”
At half past nine Láilá’s father came back from fishing. The small family lived in the village Nuorgam at the northern part of finnish Lapland, on the bank of Karasjohka river. Axsel, Láilá’s father, was a fisherman. He went fishing in the nearby lakes every morning. The mother Arinví, who taught calculus in the local elementary school, took a day off to celebrate with her daughter.
“There you are,” Aksel kissed his daughter on the forehead as he walked through the door.
“Happy birthday, little girl.”
The family sat down at the wide wooden table. Arinví, the mother, brought the cake out of the oven and decorated it with twelve candles.
“And now, my little bunny, make a wish…”
