“In the river?” Vincent asked. “Yes.”
Caleb sat taller. “Can we catch one?”
“With your hands?” Elijah asked.
“With a spell,” Caleb said out of the side of his mouth.
I gave him a look in the window’s reflection. He coughed. “Or… with my hands.”
The corner of Vincent’s mouth tilted, almost a smile. “Hands first,” he said.
Caleb slumped, then grinned. “Ok”
The road dipped, turned, and there it was—the river, broad and bright, moving like it had never once thought of stopping. My breath hitched. I knew this bend. I knew that flat shelf of pale rock on the far side. I knew the way the pines leaned here, like they were listening.
This water marked the border of my old tribe’s land.
The car eased under the shadow of tall trees. We stepped out into air that smelled like pine and rock an
