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The camp was perched at the edge of the North Maine Woods, its stables and cabins wrapped tightly around the shores of Black Cat Pond like a shawl. The only way in or out was an old, narrow logging road. The Hubbard sisters—Bella and Catherine—had come every summer for the past five years. At camp, they’d learned to ride horses, steer kayaks, braid hair into fishtails, and carve deep Xs into their mosquito bites to drain the pus. The air was different from how it was in the city, damp and mercurial with a new smell and texture every hour.