“I’m having trouble working up any sympathy.” He held up a hand to stop her. “I know. Every death diminishes us. But there are times you need to bear the weight of the killing so that worse things don’t happen further down the road.”

“That isn’t our way,” she told him.

“Usually isn’t mine, either.”

He offered her the last drag from the cigarette. When she shook her head, he ground it out in the dirt, then pocketed the butt.

“The crow girls couldn’t revive you,” Anwatan went on. “You had to be found and brought back, they said, but they couldn’t do it without being dead themselves. They were willing to do it, too. To die, I mean.”

Joe shook his head. “Today’s just one damn surprise after the other.”

“But then I said I’d do it.”

“You already being dead.”

She nodded.

“Nobody could bring you back?” he asked.

“I didn’t have a body to come back to—not in one piece like yours is.”

“More or less.”

Joe touched the back of his skull, but there was nothing to feel there. No lump. No blood. But then this wasn’t his actual body, was it?

“More or less,” she agreed.

“So, here we are,” Joe said. “You’ve found me. But first we need to hide this bogan of yours.”

“No, you need to be alive to do that.”

Joe nodded. “I’ll do it, but not because you’re helping me. I’ll do it because I can and I want to. Are we clear on that?”

“Yes. Thank you. But . . .”

She hesitated.

“But what?”

“Why is it so important that it not appear that we’re trading favours?”

“Why do you want this bogan kept safe?”

“He’s not evil,” she said. “He didn’t even want to be with them in the first place.”

“He still had a choice.”

“Were you never young and stupid?” she asked.

Joe smiled. “I don’t know that I was ever young, but I’m still pretty good at being stupid. It’s what brought me to this place when I should have been off helping my sister. But I get your point.”

“His name’s Rabedy Collins. He can take the form of a black dog—will that make it easier?”

Joe nodded. “Nice trick for a bogan.”

“Those bogans had a cousin helping them—giving them safe passage through our territories and teaching them how to shapechange. I’m told his name is Odawajameg—Odawa of the salmon clan.”

“I think I heard something about that. Do the others know about him?”

“I’m not sure,” she said. “I was about to mention it when Minisino . . . attacked you.”

“I’ll make sure the word gets out.” He cocked his head. “Unless you want him to be hidden as well?”