7Their horses were saddled and loaded; the three boys stood before them, outwardly stolid, inwardly feverish to be gone. There were questions, outright mysteries, and the most hellish thing of all was that he couldn’t concentrate on them, let alone go any distance toward making sense of them. “Who’s there?” he cried. With the first, he only sniffed from the bung; at the second, he stuck his thumb in and then sucked it thoughtfully.
Her eyes filled with tears; swam with them; overspilled. Jonas had smiled and nodded. “Go on,” Eddie told him quietly. I’ll be so much dust in the wind come this time next week.
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