Excerpt — The Year the River Turned Warm Briar Falls, Maine — 1963 Elias Crowe had always thought the Briar River sounded like teeth.Cold teeth.Chattering teeth.The kind that bit your ankles even in July. So when he stepped into the shallows that morning and felt warmth rising around his legs, he froze. The kind of freeze that starts in your bones and works its way up your throat. The river wasn’t warm like summer.It was warm like breath. Fog clung low to the surface, thick enough to hide anything standing waist‑deep. Elias squinted into it, waiting for a bird, a branch, a trick of the light — anything normal. Instead, the fog shifted. A pale oval surfaced just beneath the ripples.Not a full face — just the suggestion of one.Two dark hollows where eyes should be.And a mouth. A mouth that was smiling. Elias stumbled backward, heart punching his ribs, but the smile didn’t move. It just hovered there, patient, as if it had been waiting for him specifically.

Excerpt — The Year the River Turned Warm Briar Falls, Maine — 1963 Elias Crowe had always thought the Briar River sounded like teeth. Cold teeth. Chattering teeth. The kind that bit your ankles even in July. So when he stepped into the shallows that morning and felt warmth rising around his legs, he froze. The kind of freeze that starts in your bones and works its way up your throat. The river wasn’t warm like summer. It was warm like breath. Fog clung low to the surface, thick enough to hide anything standing waist‑deep. Elias squinted into it, waiting for a bird, a branch, a trick of the light — anything normal. Instead, the fog shifted. A pale oval surfaced just beneath the ripples. Not a full face — just the suggestion of one. Two dark hollows where eyes should be. And a mouth. A mouth that was smiling. Elias stumbled backward, heart punching his ribs, but the smile didn’t move. It just hovered there, patient, as if it had been waiting for him specifically.