To Julie Tollefson, Christie Hall, and Christy Little for the hours upon hours spent huddling with me in the freezing-but-delicious confines of T. Loft. To Marie Hogebrant for pinch-hitting in Old Norse.
To Kellye Garrett, my fictionally murderous sister-in-arms, always one text away. To Randy Shemanski, keeping me sane over email for twelve years and counting. To Whitney Schneider, Nicole Green, Laurie Euler, Coleen Shaw-Voeks, Colinda Warner, and my passel of Trail Hawks for the endless sweaty miles and even sweatier hugs. To Jennifer Gunby and Cory “Cass Anaya” Johnson, who awoke my imagination early and never let me get away with a boring scene.
To Ricki Schultz, Danielle Paige, Zoraida Córdova, Dhonielle Clayton, Brenda Drake, the Sarahs—Lemon, Cannon, Jae-Jones, Smarsh, Blair, Fox—and everyone else in my life, for their various cameos during this journey over the hill and through the woods. In ways big and small you kept my sanity with humor, love, and light.
To my parents, Craig and Mary Warren, for being the best dream enablers out there. You kept me in construction paper when my “books” were stapled-together crayon drawings, and never let up when actual words found their way to the page. I’d be nowhere without you. To Nate, Amalia, and Emmie, and the stories you’re unfurling before our eyes. To Meagan, our missing piece. So it goes.
And, finally, to Justin. My IT department, my chocolate pretzel supplier, my kid-wrangler. My heart. Without you, literally none of this would be possible. I’m so glad you’re here with me on this journey. I couldn’t imagine setting sail with anyone else.