“It’ll be okay,” he said. “Might be a good while before we come back, but we’ll come back.”

“I know,” she whispered. “I hope I know.”

Bobbi let Rafe go and then turned without another word and went back into the house, shutting the door fast, like if she didn’t, she might come back out and stop them.

The three of them got into Jeremy’s Outback. The roads between home and the Red Crow State Forest were all terrifying switchbacks hidden in shadows. Nobody but natives could drive well on West Virginia roads. Forty-five country miles could take ninety minutes if you didn’t know what you were doing. And Jeremy clearly didn’t know what he was doing.

“Grandma was slow, but she was old,” Rafe said. “My beard’s going to grow back by the time we get there.”

Emilie snorted from the backseat. “You are driving in a rather snaillike fashion.”

Jeremy glanced at her in the rearview mirror. “Can it, Prius.” He looked at Rafe. “Can you do better?”

“So much better it’s causing me physical pain.”

“Aren’t you the man who literally got arrested for driving in his sleep?” Jeremy asked.

This should have hurt Rafe’s feelings. It didn’t. It felt like old times, actually. Old times he’d missed, though he would never admit it out loud.

“I’m awake now.”

“Fine.” Jeremy slowed and turned onto the nearest side road. Rafe got out, and they switched places.

They started off again on a particularly treacherous winding road kids at their high school had nicknamed “Slaughter Alley.” Rafe took it fast and loose like he had a thousand times before.

“I want to get there too,” Jeremy said, melodramatically clinging to the door. “But I’d like to get there alive.”

Rafe couldn’t stop grinning. “I learned to drive on these roads. You learned to drive, I don’t know where…Wait, did you ever learn to drive?”

“I never should have talked to you in Miss Farris’s class,” Jeremy said. “My original sin.”

“Do they have Subarus in England,” Rafe said, “or are you guys still on carriages?”

“Just drive, redneck,” Jeremy said.

“That’s an offensive term,” Emilie said from the backseat. “You should apologize.”

“What? Redneck?” Jeremy said. “Not if I’m being literal. Check the back of his neck.”

Rafe tilted his head forward so Emilie could look, and that was the exact moment Jeremy slapped the back of his neck.

“Ah, I’m driving, asshole.”

“That was for punching me.”

“Are we there yet?” Emilie said from the back.

It felt like a party in the car. A celebration. They couldn’t get to the Crow fast enough. He felt the slightest tug in his stomach like a rope was tied around it and someone somewhere was pulling the rope. The closer he got to the park, the harder the pull. There was no turning back now for any of them.

Finally, Rafe pulled into the Red Crow State Forest parking lot. When he turned off the engine, the gravity of what they were doing seemed to hit everyone at once.

“Guess we’re here,” Emilie said quietly.

“Now what?” Rafe asked Jeremy.

“First, no phones.” Jeremy held up his iPhone before tossing it in the glove compartment. He held out his hand to take theirs.

“What? Why?” Emilie asked. “There’s stuff on there I wanted to show my sister.”

“Tough. No phones. The Nokia is all we’re going to take. You both will thank me later.”

Rafe gave his up without a fight. He was done fighting.

“Come on, Princess.” Jeremy wagged his fingers at her, motioning for her to hand it over.

“I have pictures of my mom on my phone,” she said as she reluctantly gave it to him.

“Sorry,” he said. “But safety first.” He slammed the glove box closed and got out of the car. Rafe took a breath, then got out after him and opened the door for Emilie.

“Okay, anybody watching?” Jeremy asked as he opened the back hatch.

Emilie wrapped her arms tight around her middle like she was trying to hold herself steady.

“I don’t see anybody,” she said.

Rafe didn’t either. They were alone. Jeremy took out a bag and unzipped it. A long black bag that Rafe assumed held a tent or something. It didn’t. It contained a short sword.

“I’ll explain later,” Jeremy said as he strapped on a scabbard or whatever it was called and sheathed his sword.

“I thought you were joking about the sword fighting,” she said. “People don’t sword-fight. Who sword-fights?”

“I do,” Jeremy said.

Strangely, Jeremy looked right with a sword. And Rafe was glad he had one. He got out his bow and his quiver and slung them across his back.

“Got your knife?” Rafe asked Emilie. She took it out of her pocket and held it up. “It goes on your waist. Got a belt?” She didn’t, so Jeremy dug one of his out of his overnight bag and stabbed a hole through the leather to fit her smaller waist. She held up her shirt while Rafe fastened the knife to the belt and strapped the belt around her waist.

“Tight enough?” Rafe asked.

“Perfect,” she said. For some reason, Jeremy was watching this exchange intently, almost smiling.

“What?” Rafe asked him. “What’s wrong?”

“Déjà vu,” Jeremy said. “Ignore me. We better go.”

A few drops of rain fell.

“It’s going to start raining,” Emilie said. “That going to be a problem?”