“What do you think will happen now?” Timothy’s voice is small, but Jane still startles. Even with his weight pressed against her, she’d nearly forgotten he was there, her mind so taken up with worry for her mother.

She resists the urge to ask him how he can talk if he’s been killed, pointing out the illogic of Peter’s rules once more. In truth, she’s glad for Timothy’s voice. It’s something to listen to other than the sound of their breathing, the sound of her mother and Tiger Lily’s footsteps fading into the dark. Jane shifts, trying to get more comfortable on the stone, but there’s no comfort to be had.

“I don’t know.” It’s the only answer she can give. She wishes she had even some idea of what her mother had planned, but she’s at a loss. And she still can’t shake the feeling something terrible is about to happen.

“Jane?” Timothy’s voice is even softer than before.

She turns to look at him. He isn’t looking her way but staring straight ahead. Something in his fixed expression makes his eyes look sunken, the shadows around them deeper. Even his body leaned against hers seems rigid and cold, and she has to force herself not to shudder.

“What is it?”

“I think I remember.”

The way Timothy says the words makes Jane’s heart flutter, like it’s a live creature, jumping around in her chest and wanting to escape.

“Remember what?”

“Before I was here.” His words are halting, and he continues to stare straight ahead. She doesn’t want him to go on, but it would be unfair to tell him to stop just because she’s afraid.

“You can tell me, if you want. If it would help.”

Timothy’s breath comes more rapidly, his shoulders hitching beneath the pressure of her arm. His expression is fearful, but at the same time, the words seem too big for him, too much to hold back.

“There was a little wooden boat someone made for me. We went to sail it in the pond at the bottom of the big field. The grass grew up so tall we couldn’t see the house anymore.”

Jane holds her breath, dread filling her. She wants even more now for Timothy to stop, but her tongue sticks to the roof of her mouth; she can’t get it to work at all.

“The boat got caught. I thought I could reach it with a stick, but I slipped.” Timothy trembles harder now. There’s a glassiness to his eyes, as though he isn’t seeing the cave, but a pond, surrounded by high grasses and weeds, and a little boat, trapped and struggling to get free.