Nick and Alena started back through the woods toward the trailer. “Donovan’s right,” he said. “Things should get back to normal around here pretty soon. No more intrusions on your privacy. No more late-night interruptions. You won’t have to worry about me climbing your fence anymore.”

“Too bad,” she said. “I was starting to get used to it.”

They walked in silence until they reached the clearing in front of the trailer. When Alena saw the black lump still lying across the trailer door, she stopped in her tracks.

“Would you do me a favor?” she asked.

“Sure.”

“Help me bury my dogs.”

It took three hours to roll the dogs onto plastic tarps and drag them into the woods, then dig two shallow holes and cover them with earth. Nick knew that the burial afforded little protection to the dogs’ remains; the few inches of loose topsoil offered no protection at all against the insects that were already at work reducing the bodies to bone and fur. But Nick knew equally well why burials were important, and it had nothing to do with the dead. A burial is a ceremony done by the living, for the living. A burial is a chance to say good-bye, and Alena deserved that chance.

They stood leaning on their shovels and staring at the fresh mounds of dirt.

“It’s not fair,” she said.

“What’s not fair?”

“A dog lives only one year for every seven that a human being gets. You barely start to love them before they’re gone.”

“A blowfly only lives a few weeks,” he said.

She frowned. “Nobody can love a fly.”

“That shows what you know. My life is one long funeral.”

She laughed in spite of herself.

“So what’s next for you?” he asked.

“What do you mean?”

“You found your father; you got your little white towel. Now what?”

She reached into the pocket of her gown and took out her father’s dirt-encrusted buckeye. She pushed it once.

CLICK clack.

“I’m a dog trainer,” she said. “It’s what I do. It’s what I love. Tomorrow I’ll make the rounds at the local animal shelters. I’ll talk to the dogs. I’ll find one that can do what Acheron did—one with the right gift. Then I’ll bring him back here and I’ll train him—one step at a time.”

“Good. That’s your gift.”

“I guess I won’t be wandering the woods at night anymore. That should free up my evenings—in case you’re ever in the mood to climb a fence.”

“Great—I’ll bring my neck brace.”

She let her shovel drop to the ground and turned to face Nick. She brushed the hair back from her face and looked up into his eyes. The morning sun rising behind him set her emerald eyes on fire.

“Thank you,” she said.

“For what?”