And there it was. Cooper’s certainty about him, that their lives were forever forged into one, left unbroken, no matter what. And the mystery of having someone love you, of having someone in your life that loved you so completely that your life together only ever had obstacles, never a reason to end things, was so profound that Peter realized something for the first time, that the word love and saying I love you had their limits. What love actually was, was unfathomable and it struck him as a wonder that while humankind had set about defining and labelling every little bit of the universe, until even the other side of a black hole and the smallest creature in the depths of the ocean had a name, there was one thing it was helpless to pin down. And that thing lived inside two people.

“I saw the red light in the sky on the other side of the hills,” said Peter.

Cooper looked up, his dark eyes at once alert and exploring. “I’ll show you.”

28

Tokala was the first to acknowledge Peter’s arrival in camp. He was crouched in front of a cooking pot that’d been suspended above the fire by a tripod made out of three branches like a tipi. Whatever was cooking bubbled away so busily it made the lid rattle, causing steam to snake up through the centre of the clearing. The steam leaked across rays of sunlight that came pointing through the frosty pines behind the rocky bluff, and Tokala stood. He was upright with his back to Peter, alert to his presence as a deer might be to a hunter in the woods, and slowly turned round. Cooper let go of Peter’s hand to make his way down off the ridge, but Peter held back a moment, unsure if he would even be welcome. But Tokala looked back, his hair unbound across the hood of his ski jacket and smiled as if he found peace in the return of a friend after so long away.

“We have some rabbit stew left over from last night, Peter,” he said. “If you’re hungry.”

He stood there for a moment, holding Peter’s gaze with all the things left unsaid hovering in the space between them. But somehow, none of those things seemed to threaten the truce that was taking place here. And soon, the others took his lead and followed. The girl as broad as a bear from the town meeting set her tin cup and spoon down on the log where she was sitting and made her way towards him.

“I’m Earle,” she said, extending her hand, her voice husky and low. Both eyes dark and unblinking.

Peter shook it. Or rather it shook his. Her hand was huge, like a rubber glove that’d been blown up. “Hi, Err—”