“Yes,” said Williams, then shook his head. “And no. No, this—seems like something predating that. Something she was born with. Whatever it is, it weighs on her. P.T.S.D.? Maybe. But from something other than her parents’ death.” He laid his head back against one of Ank’s folded legs and nudged his hat down. “Meh, beats the hell out of me.”
The fire crackled and popped but otherwise the world was silent.
At length he said, “But I know this. We’ve got to get her to Barley’s. It’s weird, I know. But I haven’t felt so certain of something since we first headed north. It’s important, somehow. It’s necessary.”
Neither of them spoke for what seemed a long time, and it wasn’t until Williams was nearly asleep that Ank communicated, simply and succinctly:
And then they both slept, even as Luna
