Young Lara is being groomed in the family tradition to take over as Count Voronstov's next kennel steward, breeding borzoi dogs worthy of the Tsar. But then Lara's baby brother is born and she finds herself supplanted as her father decides to make her brother the next kennel steward. Going against her father's wishes and becoming increasingly sure of her special gift of understanding these incredible dogs, Lara risks everything when she reveals the truth about her visions. Now she must save Zar, her favorite borzoi and the one she raised from birth, from a hungry pack of wolves. Only then can she find her own, extraordinary destiny. . . . Starred Review, School Library Journal , September 2013: "Compelling historical fiction, this is also a powerful story about the bond between dogs and humans, fathers and daughters.” Starred Review, Kirkus Reviews , May 15, 2013: "Engrossing and powerful." Booklist , August 1, 2013: "Dog lovers especially will pick up this trail right away and eagerly track the appealing heroine’s adventures." ANNEMARIE O'BRIEN has an MFA in Writing for Children & Young Adults from Vermont College of Fine Arts. She teaches writing courses at UC Berkeley and Stanford. Before that, she worked for many years in Russia, where she got her first borzoi dog. Annemarie lives in Northern California with her two daughters and two borzoi dogs. Chapter One The Hunting Horn Four Years Later Russia, 1914 Like the moon, far from my reach, Papa's hunting horn hung high up on the tack wall in the stable, just above the birch-bark scroll inscribed with the Eight Golden Rules for breeding borzoi. Still, I could imagine holding the horn in my hands with its decorative gold pieces along the side. My favorite image was one of a borzoi running. It reminded me of Zar. I could also imagine putting the horn to my lips, taking a deep breath, and blowing through it to signal the start of a hunt. Just as Papa always did, right before the hunters set off into the woods and open fields, led by Kyrgyz stallions dragging long, open sledges filled with dogs and hunters. More than anything, Papa cherished his hunting horn and forbade anyone to touch it--including me, for it wasn't just any horn. It had been in our family for generations--passed down from one kennel steward to the next. "One day that horn will be mine," I said to Zar, patting him on the head. "Not if our prayers are answered." Papa stepped into the tack room, with the Count's Gold Medal team of borzoi--Borei, Bistri, and Sila--prancing at his heels. The Woronzova trio were the strongest and swiftest hunting dogs on the estate. "But you've been grooming me to take over." Papa twisted the long, dark hairs of his beard. "It's clear you love the dogs. And it's true I've been grooming you to become the next kennel steward. All of that will have to change, if your mama gives birth to a boy. Trust me, Lara, I'm thinking of your future." Up until now, I had never thought Papa would really take away my dream. He turned away from me to dote on his favorite dog. While he checked Borei's paws for cracks, I tried to muster up my most respectful voice. Instead, frustration poured out. "Everything I've learned will be wasted." Papa gave me a look--the one that said I'd better watch myself. "Nothing is ever wasted. Your training will come to good use--as nursemaid--when your mama gives birth." I glanced down at Zar in horror and mouthed, Nursemaid! Zar nudged my hand and leaned his long, thin body against me. His touch usually brought me comfort, but my rattled nerves spread, like weeds in an untended garden. "What if Mama doesn't give you a son?" I shouldn't have said such a thing aloud. In Mama's mind, just uttering the mere words could summon the evil house spirits, and take the baby away. Papa quickly stood up and folded his arms across his chest. "Is that what you want?" "Son or not--my place is with you and the dogs," I said. "To one day support Alexander when he becomes Count." "Your place is with a husband," Papa snapped. "How will I ever find you a good one smelling like a pack of dogs, even noble borzoi worthy of the Tsar?" Papa's words bit me like a rabid dog. He might have been thinking about my future. All I could think about was what a huge disappointment I must have been when I was born. No wonder Mama prayed at home and in the chapel as much as she did. She had failed Papa at her duty of bearing him a son. "I know more about raising borzoi than I do about being a nursemaid." My voice quavered, but I wouldn't let myself quit. "I've cared for the dogs through distemper, tended to their wounds, administered their worming treatments, fed them proper diets, exercised them, whelped litters, and managed their mating, as well as anyone, even Alexander." I paused and caught my breath. Like me, Alexander adored the dogs. So much so, he deemed no kennel chore--not even shoveling dog dung--beneath his noble title. "And most of all," I added, "the dogs listen to