“Maybe she’s ill,” Sage suggested as they made their way to Isola’s cottage. “She did look terrible when we saw her last.”

“Or perhaps being a Watcher was too hard on her. Winter duty is exhausting.”

Leelo had once asked her mother why they didn’t start their year as Watchers in the spring or summer, giving them more time to learn before the lake froze.

Because the winter is long and takes a toll on even the more experienced Watchers, her mother had explained. Going through it all at once is too much, so we split it up, make it a little easier. Everyone, no matter their size or physical ability, was required to spend a year on duty, guarding the island. Leelo was still recovering from the night she’d spent in the woods, followed immediately by an entire day patrolling the shore.

Sage was about to respond when they heard a commotion from inside Isola’s house.

“I don’t want him to go!” she screamed. “You can’t make him!”

The shrill desperation in Isola’s voice made Leelo’s skin crawl. “We should leave,” she whispered, turning back to the trail.

But Sage shook her head and pulled Leelo along after her. “And miss this? I don’t think so.”

“Sage,” Leelo hissed, but they were already crouched behind a tree, listening.

A moment later, the door to Isola’s house burst open. A young man, half-undressed, was being shoved over the threshold by Isola’s mother, who was beating at his head with a wooden spoon.

“Fool!” Rosalie yelled. “The ice is gone! Tell me if it was worth it when the lake takes you!”

The young man raised his arms over his head to protect himself, the muscles of his torso rippling with the movement. Leelo and Sage stared slack-jawed as Isola ran out of the house after her mother, clad in nothing but her shift.

“Please, Mother!” the girl wailed, but the young man was already tugging his shirt over his head and running through the woods toward the lake.

Rosalie snatched at her daughter’s sleeve. “Stop this nonsense, Isola! You know he can’t stay. What were you thinking?”

But Isola pulled free and ran after him, stumbling barefoot in the mud. “Pieter! Come back!”

Pieter. Now Leelo recognized him, though he’d been only a little older than Tate the last time she’d seen him. His father was a painter, and his mother sometimes bought Ketty’s wool to make the warm felted boots they wore in winter. But beyond that, Leelo couldn’t remember much about the boy, other than that he was incantu. What was he doing back on Endla?

“Come on,” Sage said, yanking Leelo behind her.