Hollis shrugged; but Peter could tell he was happy to be asked. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Hollis did something with the strings, tightening and testing, then began. It took Peter a moment to realize what he was hearing: one of Arlo’s funny, made-up songs, the ones he used to play for the Littles in the Sanctuary, yet different somehow. The same but not the same. Under Hollis’s fingers, it was deeper and richer, full of an aching sadness. Peter lay back on his cot and let the notes wash over him. Even when the song had ended, he could still feel it inside him, like an echo of longing in his chest.

“It’s all right,” he said. He took a deep breath, fixing his eyes on the tent’s sagging ceiling. “You and Sara should take that convoy. Michael, too. I doubt she’ll go without him.” When Hollis said nothing, Peter rose on his elbows and faced his friend. “It’s okay, Hollis. I mean it. That’s what I want you to do.”

“It’s what Vorhees said, when we first got here. About his men, the oath they take. He was right. I’m no good for this anymore, if I ever was. I really love her, Peter.”

“You don’t have to explain. I’m glad for you both. I’m glad you have this chance.”

“What will you do?” Hollis asked.

The answer was obvious. Still, it needed to be said. “What we came to do.”

It was strange. Peter felt sad, but something else as well. He felt at peace. The decision was behind him now; he was free of it. He wondered if this was how his father had felt the night before his final ride. Watching the ceiling of the tent shaking in the wintry wind, Peter recalled Theo’s words that night in the power station, all of them sitting around the table in the control room, drinking shine. Our father didn’t go out there to let it go. Whoever thinks so doesn’t understand the first thing about him. He went out there because he just couldn’t stand not knowing, not for one more minute of his life. It was the peace of truth that Peter felt, and he was glad for it, down to his bones.

Beyond the walls of the tent, Peter could hear the roar of the generators, the calls of Greer’s men on the pickets, standing the watch. One more night and all would be silent.

“There’s not any way I can talk you out of this, is there?” Hollis asked.

Peter shook his head. “Just do me a favor.”

“Whatever you want.”

“Don’t follow me.”