“It turns on you. Love doesn’t have a choice once it’s trapped inside you. It’s desperate to leave you and find the person it’s meant for. It fights to get out. It struggles. But eventually love realizes it’s never going to be back home with that person again, and it despises you for it. Trapped inside forever, love becomes a ghost. It haunts every thought. It ruins every happiness until eventually, it sits there inside you, rotting like a damned rose that somebody forgot to water.”

Peter waited for the wolf to call out once more. But it was gone. Marge turned round. Stoic. Rebuffing any emotion. She held Peter’s gaze and a tear broke across his cheek.

“But he still loves me.”

“Then go to him.”

“I’ve tried.”

“Try harder.”

“But I can’t.”

“Do it or don’t do it. But I’m tired now.”

“But what do I do?”

“I’m tired, I tell you.”

“Marge, what do I do? He won’t tell me anything.”

“What does your gut tell you?”

“That he’s disappearing.”

“And?”

“And that something bad is about to happen.”

“And who stops that, hmm? You or him?”

Peter had no answer. Marge nodded like that was too bad, but only as bad as everything else in this world of hers. She shuffled her weary feet towards the auditorium, sighing, like all her efforts were wasted on him somehow. Before she left, she briefly held back at the door.

“They never gave us any trouble in Yellowstone,” she said. “The Returned.”

“But—”

“Not once. And they weren’t in no trance neither. Take it or leave it. Damned if I care.”

“Then what made that change?”

“How do I know? But I tell you this, that ranger’s barely spent two nights in his room above the diner this past year since he got here. According to Shelby, he’s been all over the parks, from Glacier to Joshua. Until now, I’d presumed he was making sure no Returnees were left out there because we need all the numbers we can get to help hold back the Dead. But now Wyatt and Daisy are gone and he hasn’t left town once since you got here. So, whatever this Timberdark is, it looks like his search ended when he found your Cooper.”

“But Cooper was only bitten a month ago.”

“Take it or leave it.”

“He couldn’t know anything or anyone.”

“You sure about that?”

“Yes. I’m sure.”

“What about that friend of yours? The one Darlene killed.”

“Rider?”

“Yes. Could they have spoken?”

Peter shook his head. “No. When I found him, he’d been alone in the woods for years. All he wanted was to light a flare for his wife, telling her he was safe. And besides, he and Cooper barely spent a moment together.”

Grim pleasure curled across the corners of Marge’s lips. “Barely.”

“No.”

“Barely, Peter.”