“Sissy could walk home while you drive me and the groceries back.” “Or,” Sissy countered, “I could gut you here and let your rotting corpse attract the hyenas while we go home and enjoy a nice, quiet meal at my parents’ house.” Mitch thought about that a moment but finally shook his head. “That doesn’t really work for me.”

“Are you going to tame our little Sissy, Mitchell?Sissy rubbed her face, annoyed, and Mitch answered honestly, "I'm really too lazy to try and tame anybody. If I had my way, I'd spend all day sleeping under a tree, maybe rolling out occasionally to sun my belly, and then I expect someone to bring me food. I could live like that forever!”

“I’m not talking about them. We told you before, Smith, we wouldn’t play if her”—he pointed at Sissy—“or her”—he pointed at Ronnie—“were playing.” Mitch looked at her. “Uh…Sissy?” Sissy rounded on the coach. “I can’t believe you are still holding that against us. It’s been years!” “He was in traction for three months. A shifter! In traction!” “He was in my way!”

“As nice as his touch was, it’s not what lingers with me while I work. It’s his words. Two words I tried to shut out, but they cling to me. What if echoes in my head as I hunt. What if haunts me through the Narrows. What if follows me home.”

“You mustn't stand about. Come home with me to dinner.’‘No.’ More shakes his head. ‘I would rather be blown around on the river and go home hungry. If I could trust you only to put food in my mouth – but you will put words into it.”

“You nodded towards the cup. "Wantmore?"I shook my head. "What about the car?""Didn't find it. You were heading back towards me when Ifound you.""Towards . . . ?"You nodded. "So I reckoned the car had probably got stuckor died somehow, and you were just coming home.""Home?""Yeah." Your mouth twitched. "Back to me.”