“A cinchona tree,” she tells me. “Quinine, which prevents malaria, is distilled from its bark. Loggers have pretty much wiped them all out, but that’s a lovely specimen.” Its leaves seem to drip down like teardrops in the fading greenish light. “Strange that humans should do such harm to trees that have done us so much good.”

Darkness comes on, but we don’t pull over. The howls and barks and shrieks from nocturnal predators seem louder and more threatening than any we’ve heard before.

I find myself longing for the light and heat of a big fire. “Eko, shouldn’t we stop and make a camp?”

“Not tonight,” she mutters.

“Why not?”

“I don’t think we’ll need to.”

I understand that withdrawing is one of Eko’s ways of protecting herself. And I remember from the Outer Banks that when she’s on a mission and it gets dangerous, she doesn’t like to divulge details. But I can’t just sit silently in this canoe as the Amazon closes in around us for the kill.

“Eko, please tell me what’s wrong. You seem worried.”

She doesn’t answer, or even give me a glance.

“Let me help. What are we looking for? I think we passed that same tall tree three hours ago.”

“Four.”

“So we are going in circles! Do you have a plan? Will you at least tell me what we’re searching for?”

Her resistance to answering is almost palpable. She wants to do this alone. But she knows I won’t let it drop, so she finally tells me, “It’s not a what. It’s a who.”

“Kidah?”

“Maybe.”

“What do you mean maybe? Who else could it be? Did he come back in time with a traveling companion?”

“No. He came alone. But he may have found friends.”

A monkey’s hoot mocks her answer. “Eko, we’ve been traveling for more than a week, and we haven’t seen anyone. No natives, no canoes, no huts, not even a footprint. I don’t think it’s very likely your wizard popped out of the air in these parts and found a sympathetic social circle.”

“It’s different for him,” she whispers. And now she’s not just worried. She’s definitely spooked.

“In what way?”

Eko opens her mouth, but doesn’t manage an answer.

“Come on,” I plead softly. “Whatever it is, tell me. If you’re worried, then I’m scared to death. Look, I’m sorry about last night. I sincerely apologize. I know things are awkward between us now. But you’re full of information about pink dolphins and cinchona trees. Can’t you give me a hint about what’s really going on? Why is it different for Kidah here? How could he possibly find friends when there’s nobody around?”

Eko turns from scanning the trees to look at me. Perhaps my apology touched her. “Because he’s from here.”