Page 44 of Always

“That’s pretty far for a little kid.”

“Believe me, it seemed like miles, especially when you can’t see over the corn stalks.”

I look around. “Praying mantises are green, right?”

“Yeah.”

I wrinkle my forehead. “How the hell could you chase it in here? Didn’t it blend in with the stalks?”

“Not really. It’s a different shade of green.”

“Ah,” I say. “Your photographer’s eye.”

“I suppose so. My mom actually asked me the same thing once I came to and told her what I was doing. To me, the greens are totally different.” She lets out a breath. She seems to be feeling better. Talking probably helps.

“Totally different?” I say, quirking one eyebrow.

“Okay. Subtly different. But I can see the difference.”

I grab her hand. “You’re cold as ice.”

“Am I? I thought I was feeling better.”

“It’s okay. Nothing is going to hurt you.”

“Because you’ll protect me, right?”

“Always,” I say, “but you don’t need me to protect you here.”

“I know.” She chokes out a laugh. “I was kidding.”

“I know you were. Do you realize that you use humor when you’re nervous?”

“Do I?”

“You do.”

We walk through the plowed pathway, moving farther and farther out, toward the old scarecrow pole. We don’t seem to be getting any closer, though, until it juts out from the ground and stops us in our tracks.

“Here we are,” I say.

“Yes.”

“Take this place back, Skye.”

“What do you mean?”

“Here it is. It’s an old pole. Nothing can harm you here. So take it back. Take back the power it stole from you all those years ago.”

“Have you ever done anything like that?”

Her question is valid, and it’s something I should probably do as well. But not here, and not now. “This isn’t about me. It’s about you.”

“But have you—”

“You have no idea what I’ve had to take back in my life.”

“Will you tell—”

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