“Like shit.” Theo ran his tongue along his fractured teeth. “It’s these teeth that bug me the most, though. Like there’s nothing where something should be. I can’t get used to it.”

Peter let his eyes drift out the window again; the space where Maus had stood was empty. From below he heard the sound of the kitchen door closing, then opening again, and Greer stepped out, carrying a rifle. He stood a moment, then crossed the yard to the woodpile by the barn, balanced the rifle against the wall, took up the axe, and began to split logs.

“Look,” Theo said. “I know I let you down, staying behind.”

Peter turned to face his brother once more. From elsewhere in the house now, he could hear the voices of the others, gathering in the kitchen.

“It’s okay,” he said. With all that had happened, Peter had put this disappointment aside, long ago. “Maus needed you. I would have done the same thing.”

But his brother shook his head. “Just let me talk a minute. I know it took a lot of courage, what you did. I wouldn’t want you to think I didn’t notice. But that’s not what I’m talking about, not really. Courage is easy, when the alternative is getting killed. It’s hope that’s hard. You saw something out there that no one else could, and you followed it. That’s something I could never do. I tried, believe me, if only because Dad seemed to want me to so badly. But it just wasn’t in me. And you know what’s funny? It actually made me glad when I figured that out.”

He sounded almost angry, Peter thought. And yet a lightness had come into his brother’s face as he’d spoken.

“When?” Peter asked.

“When what?”

“When did you figure it out?”