No one spoke. Then Owl said, “I don’t think he knows yet.”

“He isn’t even himself,” Sparrow offered suddenly. “You didn’t see him out in that storm, when we were fighting that demon. He looked as if he didn’t even know what was happening. I’ve never seen him like that. He just stood there, almost like he was unable to move.”

“I think he was afraid,” Candle said.

“Well, that’s not like Hawk.” Sparrow looked around for confirmation, but the others were quiet. “I mean, he’s always been strong for the rest of us.” She seemed to want to say more, but then just shrugged. “I just think something might be wrong.”

“What’s wrong is that he’s supposed to save several thousand people by finding a safe place for them and he doesn’t even know for sure where it is and there’s demons and once-men chasing him and trying to kill him and we’re all saying there’s something wrong with him when maybe we ought to just stop saying these things!” Candle clenched her fists for emphasis. “I’m just saying, Sparrow,” she finished, mimicking Panther.

Sparrow stared at her for a moment in surprise, then nodded. “You’re right. I’m not helping, am I?”

“Maybe it’s our turn to be strong for Hawk,” Owl suggested. “Maybe we need to let him know we still believe in him. He’s carrying a lot of weight on his shoulders.”

Sparrow stood up abruptly. “Let’s go find him right now. Let’s tell him how we feel.”

River, sitting next to her, took hold of her hand. “Let’s not. He’s with Tessa. Maybe they need to be alone. We can tell him tomorrow.”

Sparrow hesitated and then sat down again. “Okay. Tomorrow for sure, though.”

Their talk quickly turned to other things.

PANTHER WALKED THROUGHthe mostly sleeping inhabitants of the camp, searching for Catalya. It took a long time before he found her. She was sitting alone on the bumper of an old truck near the front of the caravan, wrapped in her gray cloak and staring out at the night. She didn’t see him approach—he was sure of it—but she seemed to sense his presence anyway.

“Go to sleep, Panther,” she said without looking at him, her face concealed by the hood of her cloak. He sat down next to her. “How’d you know it was me?”

“I could smell you.”

“Ha, ha. That’s funny. You make me laugh, being so funny.”

She looked at him now, and he was surprised at how haggard her face was and how sad her eyes. “Go to bed,” she repeated.

He looked away self-consciously. “Can’t. Too wound up from this afternoon. You come that close to dying, you don’t want to sleep for a while. The two seem too much alike, I guess.”

She nodded. “You were lucky.”