Traversing this shallow crust was a series of silvered boardwalks. They zigzagged across the land dodging every thermal feature to connect a series of little log cabins. According to Tokala, the community at Yellowstone had only vacated the park a year or so ago, but the elements hadn’t wasted any time moving in. Heat rising up from the ground stopped the boards from snowing under, but most of the cabin roofs had collapsed beneath giant slabs of snow the size of refrigerators. All that was, except one. The roof to this cabin had been recently tended to. Any icicles forming above the door had been snapped off at the root. Candlelight winked from the window and there, standing guard outside, was a black horse. Someone was still home.

“Coop.”

“I see it,” said Cooper, appearing sleepily at Peter’s side.

“Who do you suppose is down there?”

“Dunno.”

“Did they leave someone behind when they evacuated the park?”

Cooper didn’t answer.

“But Tokala wouldn’t have left anyone—”

“Perhaps someone chose to stay behind, Pete.”

Peter glanced at Cooper and wondered if that statement was meant for him. Cooper didn’t speak in code or leave truths unsaid. It was one of his qualities you could count on the most. But still …

Cooper doffed his Stetson, indicating it was time they went down to take a look, and turned, ready to saddle Snowball again.

They packed up their things, making their way down the spine of the ridge where the snow was thinnest, then rode out on to the boards with only the clop of Snowball’s hooves across the wood and the gurgling earth for company. The park was quiet. The wind had dropped too, causing steam rising up either side of the boardwalk to fold in across their path. Snowball pushed through, but no sooner had he passed than the steam drifted back into place again. The way back seemed to disappear behind them. The way ahead remained unknown. It was as if the boardwalk was being laid down one plank at a time then quietly removed again. You wouldn’t even know there were homes out here. But then, perhaps that was the whole point. On Wranglestone, the islands had distance from the Dead. Here on Yellowstone, their homes could hide from them.

The boardwalk took a sharp turn left to avoid a geyser. It was only now that Peter noticed the little wooden winches and how the seemingly continuous boardwalk was broken by a series of interconnecting bridges that either raised or swung round to break the route should anything unwanted take up the path with you.