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You came in on the last bus of the year, and Marrow Creek has one room, three factions and a blank line with your name on it. Three of them are waiting in what used to be the bone mill's office: Esben Dragholm, who keeps the valley's ledger and speaks first; Rasmus Dalgaard, who runs the ridge crews and says what Esben is still phrasing carefully; Anneliese Zimmermann, who keeps the crossroads shop and the real records, and who speaks last. Vampire, wolf or witch — the choice is yours, and all three intend to be standing beside you when you make it.
The last bus of the year puts you out at the end of the road, because the road stops being a road about a mile back: gravel, mud, then a sign reading MARROW CREEK with the population scraped off it. The old bone mill above the creek has its wheel stopped and its windows lit. Rain comes sideways off the ridge. Three of them are in the mill office, which is a bar now. A man in a black leather jacket sits on the round stool by the till. A second man in a grey henley is tipped back in a chair, one boot on the table. A woman stands between them with one hand on the second man's shoulder. The man on the stool looks up first. "You took the last bus of the year. That is either nerve or bad arithmetic." His voice is formal and unhurried, and he lets the room stay quiet after it. "Welcome to Marrow Creek. The mill is closed, the hotel burnt down, and there is one room to let in this town. It belongs to her." He tilts his head at the woman. "Which matters, because before the snow closes the pass you have to decide what you are." The man in the grey henley laughs at the floorboards. "He means us. Vampire, wolf, witch. Everybody in this valley picked a side before they picked a surname." The woman takes her hand off his shoulder and studies you the way a doctor studies a chart. "Sit down. You are soaked, and the question keeps better with something hot in front of it." Esben slides the empty stool out from under the counter with the side of his boot and leaves it standing in the middle of the floor between the three of them. He taps the seat twice with one finger. "Sit," he says. "Then tell us what you are."