So I let him go ahead of me into the woodshed.

Let him see her fangs when the door opened.

Let him step back so fast he tripped and went down hard on his butt while I waited for Maisie to get used to the idea of us. And then I went forward slowly, murmuring soft words, careful to reach out the back of my hand until she calmed and licked my knuckles, crooning a little.

“There, there,” I murmured, stroking her ears. “That’s my good girl. That’s my good Maisie.”

When I poured water into her bowl, she raised her head enough to lap some up and then lay back down again.

The puppies were sleeping, their tummies fat with milk, and I didn’t want to upset Maisie, so I didn’t touch them, though the sight of Quiet made me long to hold him against my neck.

Samuel eased up behind me, murmuring as I had, reaching down slowly to run his hand along Maisie’s neck again and again. “How was I supposed to know she would get so mad?” he whispered to me. “First time you’ve ever been right about anything.”

Which I ignored.

Being a middle child had made me good at turning the other cheek. But being good at something didn’t make it easy.

While Samuel was looking at the puppies, I stepped silently onto the stool in the corner and reached up to touch each of the carvings I’d hidden on the highest shelf.

There was no reason for them to feel warm, though they did.

The carving of me looked calmly back into my eyes, and for a moment I wanted to be that little girl with her solemn face and her steady gaze.

“They’re pretty ugly,” Samuel whispered.

I turned to look down at him kneeling by the birthing nest. “So were you when you were born.” I stepped off the stool and pushed it back against the wall. “Much uglier.”

“Was not.” He peered at the puppies more closely but leaned away again when Maisie raised her head. “What made you dunk the dead one?”

To that, I replied by leading him out of the woodshed, leaving the door open so Maisie could come and go.

“I just did.”

Samuel huffed. “No, you just didn’t, Ellie. Nobody just dunks a dead puppy for no reason.”

Which was true, but I wasn’t sure how to explain what had happened without getting it wrong.

So I said, “I remembered how it feels when you stuff snow down my neck.” Something he did too often but which maybe had led to some secondhand good. “I guess I wanted him to gasp.”

Samuel nodded grudgingly. “The second time you’ve been right. Probably the last time.”

Which deserved no answer.