Peter had watched Cooper turn the Dead dormant simply by standing beside them, many times over the last month. Somehow, they recognized the kiss of death inside his blood as one of their own. But it didn’t matter how many times he’d witnessed it, it still had the power to unnerve. Cooper always took a moment, as if to pay his respects to the poor souls who’d once occupied these bodies. But it was the moment of strange connection he made with them that troubled Peter most. Perhaps Cooper knew something of their midnight world. Perhaps there were lessons about life in death only the Returned could understand. But as time went on, they began to belong to a set of feelings and experiences Peter could never know or be a part of. And for some reason, Cooper never reached out to share them with him so that he could be.

Further out across the basin, the steam stirred and another boardwalk came into view. One of the Dead drifted across the deck. Its skeletal feet were so nearly invisible against the white steam that black rags hanging from its meatless frame appeared to hover above the boards. It was just a shadow, peeled up off the ground. Peter watched this apparition float by and tried to let the sudden intrusion of his separation from Cooper pass. He ran his fingers through Snowball’s mane. He’d never known it was even possible that two people who loved each other could also feel separate. And yet, there it was. But something else caught Peter’s attention and he was suddenly brought out of his thoughts. The cabin. For a moment, he thought it was different to the one they’d spotted up on the ridge. The black horse was no longer waiting outside. There was no light coming from the window. But the roof was clear of any snow and there, quietly coiling up from its chimney stack, was smoke.

Cooper didn’t show any signs of breaking away from the Dead, so Peter swung his leg over to dismount and walked a little further out. He continued to make his way along the boards when he stopped.

The boardwalk ended abruptly. Boiling mud at the foot of the boards bubbled in blisters, bursting across Peter’s boot. He took a step back, wiping his toecap on the back of his shins. But before he could work out how anyone living here managed to cross the basin from this point, the steam shimmied across the land to reveal the way.