Riding out on this eerie moonlit night, sent chills down Jarrod's spine. The trees and the tall dry grasses seemed to whisper strange secrets from another world. He tried to listen, but could not construct meaning from any of it on this night.

He shivered and his teeth began to rattle. He felt a light touch on his arm. Nick's coat. His brother held it out to him.

"I've got thermals on. Figured it'd be cold. Take it."

Jarrod didn't refuse. He gratefully slipped his arms into the sleeves and the coat wrapped snuggly around him.

"Do you know where we're going?" Nick asked, but it didn't seem like a question, it was more of a prodding.

"I can't read the land like you anymore." The regret seeped into Jarrod's words. "I've...been away too long."

"You'll know soon enough. We're almost there." Nick sighed. "I regret having to bring this all back to you Jarrod. If I could save you from it, I would. But...once you do remember, well, you'll understand why my gratitude to you, brother, is beyond measure. I'd kill for you." Nick was serious. Not even cracking a half smile.

Jarrod could only stare at him. "What's gotten into you tonight, Nick?"

"It's up ahead." Nick spurred his horse to a trot.

They rode into a small clearing amongst the trees and Jarrod sensed the coldness overwhelming him. He still shivered. He longed to have his gun at his side. "Nick. Please, don't go farther. It's dangerous." Nick only looked at him briefly over his shoulder and then continued into the clearing. "Nick!"

Jarrod followed, scanning the field for...what? He studied the grasses that bobbed and whispered in the wind. Nick came to a stop and dismounted. He moved forward and knelt and seemed to be pulling at something on the ground.

It was an old well from a long forgotten homestead. Someone had boarded it up. Nick was trying to pull up a plank. Jarrod's heart raced. "Nick stop!" he shouted. "Get away from there!" Jarrod dismounted and ran to Nick and began pulling him away from the well.

They tumbled backward and landed together in a heap.

"It's what he wants!" Nick shouted.

"You'll fall in!" Jarrod shouted back. "You'll fall in and then you'll-"

Jarrod could still see it even after all these years. His four-year-old brother teetered on the edge of the well. "Nicky!" Jarrod cried and ran to him.

"You nearly fell in," Jarrod said as he got to his feet. "You were standing there where the wall used to be."

"You grabbed me," Nick said. "Like you did just now. You tackled me to the ground. I couldn't breathe."

Jarrod stared at the covered pit. "I haven't taken a real breath since that day..." He turned back, and looked down the path on which they just rode. The house, the stables, none of that could be seen at this distance, with so many twists and turns through the woods. "How did you get out here? You didn't even have a horse. You were too young. How did you wander off this far from home?"

"Jarrod," Nick said quietly. "I wasn't alone." He shook his head and gazed at the well. "He brought me here. If only I could forget his face. Been haunting my nightmares since that day."

Jarrod's gaze rested on Nick's bowed profile. The wind whipped his brother's hair.

The thin man rose from the tall grass like a serpent. "Come here boy," he said, his whiskered face broke into a sickly sweet smile. "Come here so this little one will quiet down." His arms clutched a crying Nicky in a tight embrace as he slinked toward the well.

Father had instructed Jarrod well. "Never shoot a man...unless all options are lost."

"Let my brother go." Jarrod laid the shaking pistol across his arm and placed his finger on the trigger.

"No." Jarrod said. "No!" His stomach roiled. Jarrod spun around, his hand was at his mouth as he stumbled away for two clumsy steps. Nick caught him, held him as he composed himself. "We...I left him there to die. In the well. Oh God Nick! He's still down there! Surely he's dead!"

"Help me! Get me out!"

Both young men looked back. From this point, they could not see the ruined well. All was grass and quiet breeze.

"He's dead, Jarrod. That he is, but his bones are down there. We have to finish this," Nick said. "Or he won't let either of us go. We need to raise him out of that well."

Jarrod straightened. "Let his bones rot! This is where he belongs! In an unmarked grave. That's what he did with those other children, Nick! If I hadn't killed him, you would be one of the dead, and so would I! You know what he did to those little children. You've heard the stories. They're not some fairy tale fantasy. They're real! Let him suffer in hell!"

Nick grabbed his brother's coat to yank him closer, and held onto him for dear life. "If we get his bones to hallowed ground, he'll suffer in silence. He's still hurting us because he can! You haven't slept in days. Don't tell me you haven't heard him! We're not finished, not until he's buried good and proper."

His eyes told it all. Nick was panicked. He was suffering the most because he was still here, living on this land. The bones spoke to him the most. Jarrod had only felt it for a short time and already his nerves were frayed. He gave a curt nod. "Alright. But, let me go down there. I need to make sure he's dead."

"You have to bring him up, or it'll never end!" Nick growled. He let Jarrod go. He pushed a hand through his hair and muttered, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Jarrod." He turned to get the rope from the saddle.

Jarrod swore he heard laughter. He looked at the well and thought he saw the planks move.