Little Peggy stood in the window, looking out into the storm. She could see all those heartfires, especially one, one so bright it was like the sun when she looked at it. But there was a blackness all around them. No, not even black—a nothingness, like a part of the universe God hadn’t finished making, and it swept around those lights as if to tear them from each other, sweep them away, swallow them up. Little Peggy knew what that nothingness was. Those times when her eyes saw the hot yellow heartfires, there were three other colors, too. The rich dark orange of the earth. The thin grey color of the air. And the deep black emptiness of water. It was the water that tore at them now. The river, only she had never seen it so black, so strong, so terrible. The heartfires were so tiny in the night.

“What do you see, child?” asked Oldpappy.

“The river’s going to carry them away,” said little Peggy.

“I hope not.”

Little Peggy began to cry.

“There, child,” said Oldpappy. “It ain’t always such a grand thing to see afar off like that, is it.”

She shook her head.

“But maybe it won’t happen as bad as you think.”

Just at that moment, she saw one of the heartfires break away and tumble off into the dark. “Oh!” she cried out, reaching as if her hand could snatch the light and put it back. But of course she couldn’t. Her vision was long and clear, but her reach was short.

“Are they lost?” asked Oldpappy.

“One,” whispered little Peggy.

“Haven’t Makepeace and the others got there yet?”

“Just now,” she said. “The rope held. They’re safe now.”

Oldpappy didn’t ask her how she knew, or what she saw. Just patted her shoulder. “Because you told them. Remember that, Margaret. One was lost, but if you hadn’t seen and sent help, they might all have died.”

She shook her head. “I should’ve seen them sooner, Oldpappy, but I fell asleep.”

“And you blame yourself?” asked Oldpappy.

“I should’ve let Bloody Mary nip me, and then Father wouldn’t’ve been mad, and then I wouldn’t’ve been in the spring house, and then I wouldn’t’ve been asleep, and then I would’ve sent help in time—“

“We can all make daisy chains of blame like that, Maggie. It don’t mean a thing.”