Jarrod finished bringing feed and water to Coco and came back over to watch Heath, who was measuring the black mare's feet for shoes. As he knelt down between the horses, Nike would periodically swing her head over to see what he was doing and try to nibble on the back of his shirt collar. Jarrod heard him laugh.

"Cut it out, Nike. I swear, I think you're a little jealous."

Heath straightened, carefully, rolling a kink out of his shoulder and brushing the dirt from his knees. He nodded to Jarrod. "You hungry for breakfast?"

"Definitely. But – Heath – you mind if I ask you something first? If you don't want to answer, or it's too much right now, that's fine –"

"Sure, Jarrod, what is it?" Jarrod could see Heath was, on some level, bracing himself for something difficult, and he had to admire his brother's willingness to keep fighting his way back to some kind of sustainable day-to-day existence. He himself hadn't lived a life free of threats, hurts, and losses, but he'd never gotten to a point where most everything was a struggle: sleeping, eating, walking, thinking, or just relying on your own mind to stay attached to your body where it belongs. He studied Heath with concern for some moments as he chose his words, then realized his worried silence was almost certainly making his brother anxious.

"I'm sorry," he said. "Lost in thought. I just – I was wondering – can you tell me what the nightmare was? It seemed like it must have been bad to come back at you like that when you were awake. It seemed different. Like I said, if you don't want to –"

"No, it's OK," Heath said. "You're right. It was different. I've been trying to think it through myself." Tension reappeared around his eyes and in the movement of his hands, and with a glance at Jarrod, he moved deliberately away from the horses before he spoke again.

"I was trying to get away from Strawberry, and I couldn't find my way out no matter which way I turned. I kept ending up back in the middle." He took a deep breath, trying to keep the memory neutral, factual. "Then the crowd started gathering, hunting me. And there was the iron box. I tried to run from it but it kept reappearing in front of me no matter where I turned. And finally it was Uncle Matt who pushed me in and locked me in there."

"And Linceul?"

"In the box. The blackness always brings him back. He would blindfold me for fun. That wasn't different. It was –" Heath was frowning, his eyes moving as though some answer was about to materialize before him in the air.

"What was different?"

"The pounding. The drumming. Linceul kept saying, you know you want to destroy him, as you did to me. It's your only way out."

"Destroy who, Heath? What does that mean?"

Heath took another deep breath, nodding to himself. "My Uncle Matt. He's saying I want to destroy my Uncle Matt. I want to kill him, like I killed Linceul. That it's my only way out – the only way I can get free of this place."

"And what do you think, Heath?"

"Do I want to kill him? Absolutely. Wanted to kill them both. I handed their crime to you and ran away, Jarrod, because yes, I wanted to destroy them and leave them out for the vultures. I didn't trust myself then, not at all, and I still don't know even now that I do." He rubbed his face with his palms, then pressed the heels of his hands against his forehead, grimacing as if he had a headache. "That drumming, that black box – it's rage, Jarrod, rage. It's not just for Matt Simmons, no, there's plenty others. But what he did to Rachael, yes, he'd be the one who could shove me in that box and lock me in." He looked up, and Jarrod ached for the struggle he could see in his eyes. "Jarrod, I don't want to be lost in all that anger. But I don't know what to do with it. I keep running away from it – but is it trapping me here now? Is that it? Is it true what Linceul was saying? Giving in to that, is that my only way out?"

"I can't say I know what the way out is for you, Heath. But I know one thing about what Linceul said."

"What's that?"

"The Devil is a liar." Jarrod held Heath's shoulders as he turned to face him. "It is a lie that the darkness is the only answer. You've got a lot to feel angry for, Heath, more than most, and I don't pretend to know how you wrangle that down into something you can live with. I hope that's not a lesson I ever have to learn myself. But I trust you to find a way that is right for you. That box in your dream, that rage, that blackness – you know it feels wrong. You know that's no way out for you. Trust that. Trust yourself."

"The Devil is a liar." Heath mulled that over with a slight smile, skeptically holding his brother's serious gaze. "All that book-learnin' and university education, and you give me 'the devil is a liar'."

"I'm sure I could find a lengthier, less home-spun way to convey the same message, brother, if you think that would be helpful."

Heath shook his head and started to walk back to the cabin, still feigning disappointment. "The Devil is a liar. Boy howdy, all those books in your library goin' to waste. Let's go get some breakfast."

Jarrod raised his eyebrows at Heath's retreating back. "Going to waste…?"

Heath was grinning. "Next thing you know, you're gonna be tellin' me don't squat with your spurs on," he tossed back over his shoulder.

Jarrod chuckled and caught up with him. "No, the next thing I'm gonna be telling you is you better watch being such a smartass."

Heath smiled at him. "Tryin' to be the best smartass I can be." He squeezed his shoulder. "Thanks, Jarrod. You make a lot of sense, home-spun and otherwise."

"You think Nick made some more corn cakes this morning?'

Heath groaned. "Oh, don't remind me. What's next? She's gonna show him how to make –"

Audra popped out onto the back porch. "C'mon you two, hurry up! Nick just made the most amazing bacon and grits!"

"No - she didn't – Hannah? Hannah!"

Jarrod could hear Audra's laughter as she disappeared into the house. He clapped his brother on the back. "C'mon, Heath. It'll be all right. We'll help you get through it."