Nevertheless, he knew he had to believe they could. He had to believe that his child would have a chance at life and not end up like so many others. His child and Tessa’s—he had to believe. He had to believe for the Ghosts, too. And for the children in the camp, waiting for him to lead them to safety. And for the others who would be joining them along the way. And maybe for the world’s future, as well. He had to believe.

But it was hard when there was so little reason to do so.

“When I was younger,” Bear said suddenly, “still living on the farm with my family, no one believed in much of anything. That was the problem. They only believed in what they could see. They believed in the present, but not the future. They were just hanging on, living day to day.”

“That’s what most do,” Hawk said.

“Not us. Not the Ghosts. We have something more. We have a future we believe in. That’s what’s different about us. We’re not just hanging on. We’re going toward something. Even if we can’t see it and don’t know exactly what it is. It doesn’t matter. Your vision feels real to me.”

He paused, head lowered. “So I guess maybe I do think you can do it.” Hawk looked over at him, and he shrugged. “You’re not like the rest of us. Even before I knew about this gypsy morph thing, I knew that. That’s why we all follow you.”

“Maybe my vision isn’t going to work out,” Hawk said.

Bear shook his head. “You don’t believe that.”

“No, I don’t guess I do. I think it’s real. I just wish I knew more about it than I do.”

“Maybe you know all you need to know.”

Hawk smiled despite himself. Such faith. “Maybe I do,” he agreed.