AVA FOUND THE BONES IN the field. The captain’s car had been towed away, but the burned-out skeleton of Victor’s car was left, blackened and smoldering. It was a hot day and the sun struck her skin as she made her way through the grass. She first came upon the shoes, then the bits of charred, blackened bone. She carried what was left of her maker into the woods. The place she chose was deeply green and silent. She dug the grave with her hands. Her fingernails broke, but they would grow back. The scent of earth stung the back of her throat. If she cried there was no one there to witness her tears, other than the birds that came to watch, in silence.

She was without a maker. She was herself. She walked back to the doctor’s house, though it was a long way. When he saw her with the red shoes he came out to meet her, and they mourned together in the orchard. She had a solemn expression as she asked if, in his opinion as a doctor, he had come to the conclusion that all living things had souls. Creation began when God commanded, Let the earth bring forth living souls according to their kinds, domestic animals and creeping animals and wild animals. Ruach applied to spirit, the invisible force of a spark that animated all living creatures. If a soul was formed by meaning and purpose, did not every blade of grass have a soul, for each had a purpose. If this was true, Ava believed she might have one as well, just as her maker did.

It was an unexpected question.

“Perhaps,” he answered.

Ava was clearly unsatisfied with his remark. “A dove feels sorrow when she loses her fledgling, does she not?”

“I believe so,” he agreed, both to please her and because he had seen animals mourn one another.

“And a cow separated from its mother, does it not cry and wail?”

“Yes. True. The difficulty is, we can’t know if such responses are merely nature, ingrained to continue the species.”

“So you’re saying no. That beasts are sparked with life, but not a soul.”