Thornghost (26 page)

T
o the most awesome Torbjørn Øverland Amundsen, who read every draft and never got tired. Not even at five a.m.
on deadline nights. Not even when I had to be lured across the finish line with candy. (It was caramel, too, because he's that kind of guy.)

To my wonderful editor, Lauri Hornik, for her heart, wisdom, and navigating skills. To Dana Chidiac, for invaluable edits and for paying attention to every little detail. To Kali Ciesemeyer and Jennifer Thermes, for the gorgeous illustrations. To my copy editor Regina Castillo. And to
everyone
at Dial Books for Young Readers who does such a marvelous job of turning stories into stunning, well-published books.

To my agent and dear friend Jane Putch, for being brilliant and a living life vest.

To the luminous Laini Taylor, for inspiration, friendship, advice, and hope. Wells and ropes, forever.

To my fantastic brother, Eivind Almhjell, for Erika's Song and the broken realm. To my beloved sister, Line Almhjell, for the tandem hearts. And to both for the auxiliary brain power.

To my talented friends and colleagues Siri Pettersen, Torbjørn Øverland Amundsen, and Tonje Tornes, for the twenty-four-hour helpline.

To Shanti Irene Gylseth, for lynx advice. To Ina Vassbotten Steinman, for small seeds sown. To Peter Brown, for support and friendship. To Kjeld Hendrik Helland-Hansen and Thomas Ingebrigtsen-Lem, my favorite oddballs.

To everyone who went on a trip with Lin and Rufus and didn't want it to end. To librarians, booksellers, teachers, publishers, bloggers, and everyone who puts books into the hands of readers.

To my fierce little wolf pack, Magnus and Martine, for sharing me with Niklas. To my mother, Unni Ohrvik Almhjell, always. To Madeleine Ryan and Viral Shah, for belonging.

To everyone whose roots stick into the ground below the elm tree on my grandmother's farm. Especially Laila Almhjell, animal whisperer and hero, and Erik and Ivar Almhjell, rascal princes both.

To the beautiful Stine Galtung, whose clever fingers inspired Castine. We'll keep dancing.

To the ferrets of Wild Rumpus in Minneapolis, who absolutely don't know how to sneak.

And last but not least, to Pims, Balthasar, Puskas, Mario, Sputnik, Melinda, Ella, and all you other cats in my life. If I could see you now, I'd squint and look away.

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