He pulled into the little strip mall with the store labeled Live Bait. The shop had brown walls, loud fluorescent lights, an overwhelming mossy smell. I was back in the fake world. A few silent shoppers hung around in the aisles, looking at the thousands of different kinds of baits, hard shiny simulacra of minnows, walleyes, soft rubbery craws and worms, shining flies made of beads and tufts of feather, each hiding a pin-sharp hook.

Even through the bait odor, I could tell I reeked. We drew a few stares but I told myself the Appalachians were full of strange folk.

I rushed to the shop’s bathroom, which was a terrible mistake. There were no mirrors on the farm. One of the rules. And here: my first reflection since September. I was wide necked and red, with my close-cropped hair, hairy armpits. I saw for the first time, as I patted water onto my face, a discoloration on my cheek, from the sun, I guessed, a big blotch that wouldn’t wash away. No one had mentioned it to me.

Dice had exited the store. I waited as long as I could before I joined him. I wanted to forget about myself in the mirror. If I could forget, it’d be tantamount to not having broken a rule to begin with.

Dice stood on the low yellow block at the end of a parking space. His posture, his moccasins, the dirt on his skin, set him apart. I could almost see the strip mall evaporating, the concrete melting away, the old farmland, too, collapsing, back to the time when American chestnuts grew here, and bison made trails in the forest, and passenger pigeons, copper and blue, swarmed in colonies of billions, darkening the sky like a volcano and cooing like sleigh bells.

I approached him, hoping he wouldn’t ask where I had gone. If Dice ever said I know what you did, I would confess to ten possible crimes.

He smiled at me. “Want a milk shake?” he said.

I wondered if he was trying to test me. “No,” I said. Our ice cream was better. It contained only cream and honey, spun in salty ice.

We returned to the truck. The little owl was asleep in its box. “You know, Harmony, you said something wonderful,” said Dice. “No to a treat. You may have just earned yourself a place at our next action. I may be able to count on you, despite your occasional lapse.”

I leaned my head back, thrilled. Before I knew what I was saying, the words spilled out: “I love you, Dice.”