I force a laugh, too, managing to get a foot free and step back. “Sounds like the trick is, don’t fall in.” Never mind how close I came to doing that. “I’m surprised a true believer like you even comes out here. Isn’t this tempting the Mumbler? All this kid flesh in one place?” No answer. I tug the other foot free with an embarrassing squelch, saying in a stage whisper, “Do you think he’s watching us right now?”

“He’s out there.” Mildly, like I’d asked him the direction of the sky. “He’s basically nocturnal. You’re probably okay if you come here during the day, but at night, you’re rare steak on two legs. And you left the herd. Went off on your own.” He shakes his head. “Practically culled yourself.”

“Then why aren’t you more scared?”

He stares at the opposite bank. “When you’re scared so much, it gets to be part of you. You know? You wake up, it’s there. You go to sleep, it’s there. Sometimes, it’s better to look it in the face. Know where you’re at.” His voice is like an echo of his kid-self, hiding under the covers, holding his breath, listening for monster sounds, the skitter of clawed feet over his bedroom floor.

I follow his gaze across the water again, to those reeds, the woods beyond. “Do you see something?” My voice is sharp, almost sounding like Ma when she’s mad at me, but it’s freaking me out, his not moving.

“Don’t you?” He points. “There. In that shadowy place, by the fallen-down tree. You look hard enough, you can see him.”

“Look hard enough and you can see anything.” But I hold my phone up higher, trying to shine the light to that distant bank. Too far to make out much.

“Then close your eyes.” His fingers circle my wrist and he draws me to him, tucking my arm under his. I’ve never been held quite like this before. Gentle enough, I could pull away—but I don’t want to lose this sense of being linked together, side by side, his hand on my wrist, my fingers outstretched, as if straining to touch something just out of reach. “You can feel him.” I’m still looking, spotting the fallen tree, the reeds broken and crushed into a hollow around it, where there could be anything, any hidden thing. “Go ahead, close ’em. He’s just standing there.”

I shut my eyes. Kincaid sounds hushed, close to my ear, words running together like they do when he’s excited. “You can make out his head right there, under those branches, and his shoulders . . . Jesus, he’s huge. It’s like he’s ready to charge us, but he’s not moving.” A pause. “That long, scraggly stuff like moss, or willow leaves? That’s his hair. See it?”