“Sure you can. You just put one foot in front of the other and away you go.”

Honey gives me a soft bump with her muzzle. Jilly . . .

I turn to look at her. She knows what I’m going through. She’s failed the ones she’s loved as well. I remember Joe telling me about it, how her family all died in the dog fighting pits and there was nothing she could do about it.

How did you get past that? I want to ask her.

Geordie wouldn’t want you to be doing this, she says.

She’s right. Geordie wouldn’t. But the world doesn’t go by what we want. I didn’t want Geordie to die, but he went ahead and got killed anyway, didn’t he?

Still, I let Lizzie pull me to my feet. Poor Lizzie, trapped in a child’s body just like me, except the lower part of her face is like a crash test dummy’s. She has no mouth, no jaw. She can’t eat, she can’t drink. She can’t speak.

But I suppose if she can still have hope, the least I can do is pretend that I do, too. And what does it matter? If I die here or someplace else? At least if we get away, we might be able to find someone who can fix Lizzie.

So I let her help me to my feet. I rub the tears from my eyes, making muddy streaks in the dust on my cheeks. I think of how Geordie would smile to see the mess and that just makes me want to cry again. But I can’t seem to cry anymore. Everything’s too dry, me included.

We hardly get started down the vague trail we’d been following before I fell, when Honey suddenly stiffens at my side. She turns, a threatening growl rumbling deep in her chest.

I remember what happened to Del and wouldn’t want to be whoever’s on the trail behind us.

There are two strangers there, obviously having just stepped out of nowhere the way we did earlier. For a long moment, we’re all transfixed. The monster holds our gaze first, a shambling thing in the shape of a man, made of seaweed and driftwood and shells. Beside him is a small fairy man the size of a child, but with the face of an old man. He’s dressed in a ragged litter of clothes, brown and dull green and grey, and his hair is a nest of matted dreadlocks.

Fairy and monster. Probably sent to us by the bogans.

At my side, I can sense that Honey is ready to attack. One wrong move on the part of the strangers is all it’ll take.

But Lizzie’s voice rings in our heads and stops her.

Honey, no! she cries. That’s my friend Timony.