{"product_id":"the-prophet-of-yonwood-isbn-9780440421245","title":"The Prophet of Yonwood","description":"\u003cb\u003eBefore there was Ember…there was   Yonwood. Discover the prophecy that started it all in this prequel to the \u003ci\u003eThe   City of Ember—\u003c\/i\u003ea modern-day   classic with over 4 MILLION copies sold!\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Nickie will grow up to be one of the first   citizens of the city of Ember. But for now, she is a girl who has just moved   to the town of Yonwood. There, she discovers a place full of suspicion, where   one citizen’s visions of fire and destruction have turned everyone against   each other. Eager to take her mind off her father’s absence as he works on a   mysterious government project, Nickie reads her great-grandfather’s peculiar   journals, spies on a reclusive neighbor who studies the heavens, and meets a   strange boy who is fascinated with snakes— all while keeping an eye out for   trouble. But is it already too late to avoid a devastating war?\u003cbr\u003e \u003cu\u003ePraise   for the City of Ember books:\u003c\/u\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003eNominated to 28 State Award Lists!\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003eAn American Library Association Notable Children’s Book\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003eA New York Public Library 100 Titles for Reading and Sharing Selection\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003eA Kirkus Reviews Editors’ Choice\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003eA Child Magazine Best Children’s Book\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003eA Mark Twain Award Winner\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003eA William Allen White Children’s Book Award Winner\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “A realistic post-apocalyptic world. DuPrau’s book leaves Doon and Lina on   the verge of undiscovered country and readers wanting more.” —\u003ci\u003eUSA Today\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “An electric debut.” —\u003ci\u003ePublishers Weekly,\u003c\/i\u003e Starred\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “While Ember is colorless and dark, the book itself is rich with   description.” —\u003ci\u003eVOYA,\u003c\/i\u003e Starred\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “A harrowing journey into the unknown, and cryptic messages for readers to   decipher.” —\u003ci\u003eKirkus Reviews,\u003c\/i\u003e StarredJEANNE DuPRAU is the \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author of the City of Ember books, which have been translated into multiple languages and are a time-honored staple in elementary school classrooms. She also wrote \u003ci\u003eEscape the Vortex,\u003c\/i\u003e part of the multiplatform sci-fi adventure series Voyagers. Visit her website at jeanneduprau.com.\u003cb\u003eThe Vision\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eOn a warm July afternoon in the town of Yonwood, North Carolina, a woman named Althea Tower went out to her backyard to fill the bird feeder. She opened her sack of sunflower seeds, lifted the bird feeder’s lid–and that was when, without warning, the vision assailed her. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIt was like a waking dream. The trees and grass and birds faded away, and in their place she saw blind­ing flashes of light so searingly bright she staggered backward, dropped her sack of birdseed, and fell to the ground. Billows of fire rose around her, and a hot wind roared. She felt herself flung high into the sky, and from there she looked down on a dreadful scene. The whole earth boiled with flames and black smoke. The noise was terrible–a howling and crashing and crackling–and finally, when the firestorm subsided, there came a silence that was more terrible still. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWhen the vision finally faded, it left Althea stunned. She lay on the ground, unable to move, with her mind all jumbled and birds pecking at the spilled birdseed around her. She might have lain there for hours if Mrs. Brenda Beeson had not happened to come by a few minutes later to bring her a basket of strawberries. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSeeing Althea on the ground, Mrs. Beeson rushed forward. She bent over her friend and spoke to her, but Althea only moaned. So Mrs. Beeson used her cell phone to call for help. Within minutes, four of her best friends–the doctor, the police chief, the town mayor, and the minister of the church–had all arrived. The doctor squatted beside Althea and spoke slowly and loudly. “Can you tell us what’s wrong?” he said. “What is it?” \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAlthea shivered. Her lips twisted as she tried to speak. Everyone leaned in to hear. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“It’s God,” she whispered. “God. I saw...I saw...” She trailed off. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Merciful heavens,” said Brenda Beeson. “She’s had a vision.” \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eOf course they didn’t know at first what her vision had been. They thought maybe she’d seen God. But why would that frighten her so? Why would she be muttering about fire and smoke and disaster? \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eDays went by, and Althea didn’t get better. She lay on her bed hardly moving, staring into the air and mumbling. Then, exactly a week later, a clue to the mystery came. The president of the United States announced that talks with the Phalanx Nations had reached a crisis. Their leaders would not give in on any of their demands, and the leaders of the United States would not give in on theirs. Unless some sort of agree­ment could be reached, the president said, it might be necessary to go to war. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBrenda Beeson made the connection right away: War! That must be what Althea Tower had seen. Mrs. Beeson called her friends, they told their friends, the newspaper wrote it up, and soon the whole town knew: Althea Tower had seen the future, and it was terrible. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAll over Yonwood, people gathered in frightened clusters to talk. Could it be true? The more they thought about it, the more it seemed it could be. Althea had always been a quiet, sensible person, not the sort to make things up. And these were strange times, what with conflicts and terrorists and talk of the end of the world–just the kind of times when visions and miracles were likely to happen. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBrenda Beeson formed a committee to take care of Althea and pay attention to anything else she might say. People wrote letters to the newspaper about her and left flowers and ribbons and handwritten notes in front of her house. The minister spoke of her in church. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAfter a few weeks, nearly everyone was calling her the Prophet. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003eChapter 1: The Inheritance\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eNickie Randolph’s first sight of the town of Yonwood was a white steeple rising out of the pine forest that covered the mountainside. She leaned forward, gazing through the windshield of the car. “Is that it?” \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHer aunt Crystal, who was driving, put one hand up to shield her eyes from the rays of the setting sun. “That’s it,” she said. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“My new home,” said Nickie. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“You have to get that notion out of your mind,” said Crystal. “It’s not going to happen.” \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI’m going to \u003ci\u003emake \u003c\/i\u003eit happen, thought Nickie, though she didn’t say it out loud. Crystal’s mood was already bad enough. “How long till we get there?” she asked. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“We’ll be there in twenty minutes, if nothing else gets in our way.” \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eA lot had gotten in their way so far. The Streakline train was closed down because of the Crisis, so they’d had to drive. They’d been on the road for seven hours, though the trip from Philadelphia should have taken no more than five. But long lines at gas stations, detours around pot-holed or snow-covered stretches of highway, and military roadblocks had slowed them down. Crystal didn’t like delays. She was a fast-moving, efficient person, and when her way was blocked, she became very tense and spoke with her lips in two hard lines. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThey came to the Yonwood exit, and Crystal turned off the highway onto a road that wound uphill. Here the trees grew thick on either side, and so tall that their bare branches met overhead, making a canopy of sticks. Drops of rain began to spatter the car’s wind­shield. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAfter a while, they came to a sign that said, “Yonwood. Pop. 2,460.” The trees thinned out, and the rain fell harder. They passed a few storage sheds, a collapsing barn, and a lumberyard. After that, hous­es began to appear on the side of the road–small, tired-looking wooden houses, their roofs dripping. Many of them had rockers or couches on the front porch, where people would no doubt be sitting if it weren’t the dead of winter. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eFrom a small brick shelter at the side of the road, a policeman stepped out holding a red stop sign. He held it up and waved it at them. Crystal slowed down, stopped, and opened her window. The policeman bent down. He had on a rain jacket with the hood up, and rain dripped off the hood and onto his nose. “Hello, ma’am,” he said. “Are you a resident?” \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“No,” said Crystal. “Is that a problem?” \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Just doing a routine entry check, ma’am,” the man said. “Part of our safety program. Had some evi­dence lately of possible terrorist activity in the woods. Your purpose here?” \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“My grandfather has died,” Crystal said. “My sister and I have inherited his house. I’ve come to fix the house up and sell it.” \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe man glanced at Nickie. “This is your sister?” \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“This is my niece,” said Crystal. “My sister’s daughter.” \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“And your grandfather’s name?” said the man. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Arthur Green,” said Crystal. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Ah, yes,” the policeman said. “A fine gentleman.” He smiled. “You be careful while you’re here, now. We’ve had reports indicating there may be agents of the Phalanx Nations traveling alone or in small groups in parts of the area. Have you been spoken to by any suspicious strangers?” \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“No,” said Crystal. “Just you. You seem very suspicious.” \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Ha ha,” said the man, not really laughing. “All right, ma’am,” he went on. “You may go. Sorry for the delay, but as you know there’s a crisis. We’re taking every precaution.” \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe stepped away, and they drove on. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Terrorists even \u003ci\u003ehere\u003c\/i\u003e?” Nickie said. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“It’s nonsense,” said Crystal. “Why would a ter­rorist be wandering around in the woods? Pay no attention.”","brand":"Yearling","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46300483158245,"sku":"NP9780440421245","price":8.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780440421245.jpg?v=1767741098","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/es\/products\/the-prophet-of-yonwood-isbn-9780440421245","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}