Chapter Text
"Scully, are you done? We're losing the light."
The quaint downtown of the mountain village was strangely untouched, as if the residents had mostly just left, instead of sticking it out and burning every piece of antique furniture for heat in that first bitter winter; as a result, there were still plenty of books on the library shelves, although the ones near the front were a bit mildewed where the weather had come in through the windows.
Scully eventually emerged from the non-fiction section, her eyebrows signalling a certain amount of satisfaction, and handed him three battered paperbacks; on the weathered binding, he saw the name Foxfire.
"Ah," he said.
[Author's note: The Foxfire Project.