CHAPTER 10

Before Adina's lover was killed, but after the Inquisition forced them apart, Adina made a habit of writing her a letter each day once her work was done. Sometimes there was no service between their countries, and Adina had no idea when her letter would reach her lover. But she wrote daily anyway, explaining to her friends that it helped collect her thoughts, and that she had faith they would all be delivered in time.

"You asked me once whether I would go to the stars, if I could," she wrote once. "You weren't the first to ask, or the last. For you, my answer was easy: Of course I would go. Why wouldn't I? But in the years since then, I've come to believe that this question is… while not entirely meaningless, on par with strange questions like: 'Do you wish that you lived a million years ago, but now can't remember it?' Perhaps you understand instantly what I mean, as you so often do. It simply isn't possible for a person to travel to the stars and still be the same person. I don't mean it's not technologically possible. I mean it isn't even physically possible. You might as well have asked me whether I wanted to make an unfamiliar copy of myself—recognizable, but inaccessible in every meaningful way.

"If we want to learn more about the heavens, we can't do it by going to them. It's just not an option. There's only one astronomical body we can learn more about by going to it, and that's the Earth itself. As the months without you tick on, I grow increasingly afraid that, if I still have a conscience about increasing our understanding of the heavens, my only option will be to venture into the Earth itself. But this idea terrifies me, astronomer. Never has the potential for learning scared me so fully to the core."

"Where do we go from here?" asked Bea. It wasn't exactly from out of nowhere. She and Mae had walked all the way to Jenny's Field, then up the hill of soft dirt grown over with grass and flowers, formed decades ago by a mining company excavation. They could see half the town from here, and in another direction the state park, and more than one highway. It might not be enough perspective for such a big question, but it was what they had.

"Iunno," said Mae. She sat crouching on the hill, even as Bea lay back on the grass and smoked. "I guess now we see whether Possum Springs starts falling apart." She peered at the north edge of the town as if she could catch a glimpse of it happening from there.

Bea was staring at the sky. "And if it does?"

Mae considered. "Then we decide whether we want to try to save it."

This silenced Bea for a while. "And if it doesn't?"

Mae took a deep breath. "I've been sort of thinking about college," she said meekly.

Bea looked back sharply.

"Please don't be mad! It's just, when I told Mom about how the problem I had with things losing their meaning, the psychosis or whatever, was gone, she asked if that meant maybe I wanted to give college another try. And…" She swallowed. "Maybe I do?"

Bea stared for awhile. She was wearing a blue sundress. Mae hadn't even known Bea owned a sundress. Maybe she'd just bought it, but it didn't look new. It was really warm for October, though, so it wasn't like there'd be a better time to wear it anytime soon.

"Not to be a grouch or anything, but there was a time you were willing to give up your freedom and your life to help me get to college," Bea said.

"I know! And I still really care about you… but you said you'd given up the dream. I thought you'd kind of… made your peace with never going."

Bea puffed her cigarette. "I basically have. I'm a good person. I'm fine. I may not be brilliant, but I'm sharp enough, and I'm fine. I've got problems. But so does everyone. There's no one in the world who hasn't got problems. I guess my point is, I don't have to get a degree or have a field of study in order to be… a good person. I may not like retail, but I'm getting good at it, like it or not, and I do like handiwork, so." She shrugged slowly and slumped down onto the grass.

"But you should get to go," Mae protested. "If you want to specialize in something and get really smart and good at it, I want that to happen too. I would give you all the money, if I could. If my parents write checks, I could forward them to you and pretend to be going to college when really I'm just working somewhere. We could do an elaborate scheme and then when you're all done, jump out and be like, 'Surprise! You thought you were paying for your kid to get a diploma, but really you were paying for this other girl instead!'" She wiggled her toes. "But that's probably not the most airtight idea."

"Your head isn't the most airtight idea," retorted Bea.

"Hey!"

"Fine. I take it back. Your head is the most airtight idea."

"Thank you," said Mae.

"You should go," Bea decided. "If you can find a way to pay, you should go. Your parents want you to go. You're not tied down. You might find some direction."

"I'm scared, Bea."

"Scared it'll happen again?"

"With the statue and everything? Nope, that's gone. Scared that I won't be good enough. That I'm too dumb for college and it's a dumb idea even sending me there. Scared I'll just waste all my parents' money and when it's time to leave Possum Springs we won't be able to, and then our house won't be worth anything anymore and we'll be stuck going down with the ship."

"Mae."

"Yes?"

"They have such a thing as remedial courses. If you're not good enough at history or math or whatever, you can take those and get caught up. If you put in your time and develop good study habits, you won't flunk out."

That wasn't quite what Mae had expected to hear. "You need I'll need remedial courses?"

Bea shrugged. "I just know that last week when I mentioned AC current, you thought I was talking about air conditioners."

Geez. "Well what sense does 'alternating current current' make? You can't blame me for that."

"You don't know a lot, Mae. Sorry to be so blunt about it, but it's the truth. You could stand to know a lot more."

"But is it worth it, Bea? I don't know what I'm going to be doing with my life. I'm more or less happy now. Why stir things up by adding college to the mix?"

"Weren't you the one who brought this up?"

"That doesn't mean I know what I want!" said Mae, throwing her arms out. "You know me better than that."

Bea considered. "I think it'd be interesting to see you enrich yourself. To see what direction you choose."

Mae settled down on the grass. "Well sure. But it'd be interesting to squash an alarm clock on the train tracks. Interesting is just that."

Bea inhaled deeply and relaxed, saying nothing. Mae didn't mind. She knew Bea was down to one cigarette a day and wanted to get the most out of what she had.

"Hey, Germ."

"Oh hey. How ya doing?"

He was out in the parking lot again, taking in the atmosphere or who-knew-what. Mae thrust out an envelope, shimmery and green. She'd picked it out at Fort Lucenne, along with some new clothes. Bea hadn't wanted to go with her, since that would have meant breaking a promise, and keeping promises to herself was important at that point in her life. So Mae'd gone with Lori M. instead. They'd had a blast, even though the mall was barely a shadow of what it had been in the old days.

"What's this?"

"It's an invitation. I could tell you what's inside, but then what's the point of writing it?" Mae kept the envelope suspended until he took and opened it.

Germ unfolded the paper and read. "I'm invited to a burning?"

"Yeah!"

He read more. "You're going to burn your shirt?"

Mae nearly bounced in place. "Yeah! It's old and ugly and it turns out I only made it 'cause Black Goat wanted me to, way back. This is its symbol! It's like it was branding me."

Germ looked her over. "Cool. So why're you wearing it now?"

"'Cause it's sentimental! I want to say goodbye." She tugged on the stretchy fabric. "I'm gonna miss this thing."

"Then why burn it?" Germ countered.

"'Cause it's got all this evil connected to it! I've got to get rid of it."

"So you thought you'd just be evil one last time?"

She pulled her arms inside the shirt and spun it around backward, then stuck them out again. "Everyone deserves a goodbye," she said.

"Cool. I'll be there. You gonna miss that thing inside you?"

Mae'd actually given that some thought. "Not really, I don't think. 'Miss' isn't quite the word. But I've gotta say, it feels weird knowing that… so much of what I thought was my own brain effing up its business was really… something else effing me up that shouldn't have existed at all. I mean, if I'm not the girl with the serious mental problems, then who am I?"

Germ gave this some thought. "You think it would've effed up another person the same way?"

Now that was an interesting question. "I don't know. I mean, maybe it would have just drained the meaning out of everything for them like it did for me… but for me it kind of triggered 'cause of a dating sim I was playing. Not everyone plays those, right?"

"I know I don't."

"So… maybe the way it effed me up was unique?" After all, if Black Goat could just drain the meaning from the world any time it wanted, why hadn't it done that to her during its last stand?

"Probably. You seem pretty unique." Germ made this observation in a tone that suggested it took one to know one.

"So does that mean the way I went crazy was all me? It just scrambled my soul a little, and I did the rest?"

"Looks like it," said Germ.

That felt weirdly good. "I'm special after all!" realized Mae.

"Sure. You're pretty special."

"It feels good to be special."

"Sure does," he agreed.

Mae stood there and blinked. "Well, see you at the burning!"

"Yep!" said Germ, and walked away.

Mae walked through the parking lot, watching a couple of rats wiggling their way through a crack into the old Food Donkey, and realized that this question had been weighing on her more than she'd known. She'd been afraid that her identity had all been a lie… but now she realized she was still just as weird and messed up as ever, only now she was in control. She was proud of who she was. She was proud to question authority and question herself and do things now and then that didn't make sense just because they had to be done.

There's a time in everyone's life, she reflected, when they have to own their crazy. This is mine!

"Mom!"

Mae's mother turned around at her desk in surprise. "Daughter!"

Mae pranced over to give her a hug. "Mom!"

"Wow. You're hugging me at work!"

"I'm hugging you in church! Isn't that allowed?"

"If it's not, I won't tell. What's got you all excited?"

"Just glad to see you. Just glad to be alive and taking responsibility."

"My Mae, excited about responsibility. I never thought I'd see the day."

"You should've! I like getting excited about stuff!"

"In that case, I won't jinx it. You're here to see the pastor?"

"Mmhm. I'm her slave now, you know."

"Ah, yes. I hope she doesn't work you too hard."

"If she does, I'll stage a slave revolt. That always works."

"You may want to ask her to teach you some history, while you're at it." Mae's mom gave her a kiss on the forehead. Good luck, sweetheart."

Mae knocked nervously on the pastor's office. "Slave Borowski, reporting for duty!"

The door opened, Pastor K looking as dour as ever. "I'm glad you came. We have a lot to discuss."

Uh oh. "So what's the verdict?" Mae asked nervously. She knew a contractor from Brush Valley had been in to give an estimate.

"It was a six thousand dollar window," said the pastor.

Ouch. Mae felt like she was hit by a bucket to the head. She sat down on a random chest that probably wasn't meant for sitting on. "Six thousand?"

"It could have been worse. Stained glass is expensive."

Mae's head swam, trying to figure out how long it would take her to pay that off. "Wow. I guess if I gave you, like eighty percent of my paycheck for… a year… that'd cover it, right?" She hated the idea of being in debt that long, but reminded herself this was a new life, and the weight that was off her was worth it.

"Most likely. But Mae…" Pastor K sighed and sat down. "I don't honestly think you should be on the hook for the entire amount. The way I see it… this was an external disaster. Like a tornado or an earthquake. If an earthquake knocks one man's house down, a good town doesn't make him pay the full cost of rebuilding. A good town helps him rebuild."

Did that mean… "But how can the town help me rebuild?"

"They can help the church rebuild. I intend to ask the congregation to pitch in half the cost of replacing the window. Honestly, this is exactly the sort of thing church funds should be used for. Sure, they pay my salary, and your mother's salary, and they take care of routine maintenance… but this was a spiritual attack. And in some way, our church helped. You came here, and under these walls, you weathered the storm."

"I did, didn't I? Gregg saved me, but the church saved me too."

"And all it cost us was one window. Mae, I intend to tell the congregation that I would have much rather have lost every window in the church than have lost you to the demon that was possessing you. I would rather the church had collapsed completely."

Mae swallowed. It was intense, having someone in authority care about her that much. "I don't think they'll like that much. A lot of people in town kind of hate me." Funny how she seemed to care more, not less, about being hated, now that she was free of her biggest burden.

"That's something I wanted to talk about. I was hoping to make your case, as it were, with your permission. You've been coming to church for a few weeks, and I'm very glad of that, and I know your mother is too. You may be new here, but you are a part of our congregation."

Mae wasn't sure how she felt about that, but right now it felt mostly warm. "I don't think that'll make them like me all by itself, though."

"No. And that's why I need to explain to my flock that for seven years, you were possessed by the devil."

Mae froze. "Really? 'The devil'?"

"I know it isn't entirely accurate. What plagued you wasn't the Lord of Darkness himself. It was in a class of many, whether a demon or something we don't understand. But we need to put it in terms the flock will at least consider accepting."

"And it wasn't really possessing me," Mae pointed out. "I wasn't like, 'Rrrrr! ARrrgh!'" She stuck out her arms and waved her head back and forth wildly.

"Regardless," said the pastor. "I honestly never thought I would diagnose a member of my flock with demonic possession. I didn't even think it was a real thing. Yes, Satan can corrupt our hearts, but I believed out-and-out possession was an anachronistic myth. Apparently I was wrong. I've prayed more these last few days than I did when I received the call to ministry. I've prayed more than when my sister was killed in active duty overseas. This has upset my world, Mae. But I believe you. I believe that you really were possessed, or otherwise occupied, by a demon or, God forbid, something worse. And from my prayers, I decided that I have to tell my congregation that this is possible. I can't let them remain in the dark."

Mae felt small. "Well… okay… but…"'

"I'll call for them to pay half the cost, as a community should when one of its own is stricken by forces outside its control. And I'll call for them to treat you kindly. To try to get past the prejudices they formed when you took up a baseball bat seven years ago and earned your nickname. I'll try to get them to understand that it was corrupting you, even then, and that it really is finally gone. I'll ask them to meet you anew. If you're willing, Mae. None of this without your permission."

What could she do? Would they really take the pastor at her word, or would it be like the teacher calling up a new student to make sure everyone liked them, only to be bullied all the more? "I… I'm scared."

The pastor nodded. "Of anything in particular?"

Mae reflected. "Of… being really known, for who I am… and having people hate me anyway?"

Pastor K paused for a bit. "Well. That's what we all aspire to, isn't it? To be known for who we truly are? And if people hate us, even after that, that's their right. But…"

"But we have to try," Mae concluded.

Pastor K nodded. "We have to try."

"Okay," said Mae. "Sign me up. I'll do my best to meet everyone, even if it's people I already know."

"Thank you for being brave, Mae."

Mae bowed a little. "All in a day's work."

"Part of me wants you not to have to pay anything for the window. But I am inclined to think it was partly your own fault, Mae. You may have been influenced by an otherworldly being, but it probably wouldn't have found the same grounding in just anyone. Put simply, I think you're a little too happy with that bat of yours. Fair?"

Mae slumped. "Fair."

"So I'll expect you to pay two thousand dollars toward the repair bill. I recognize it may take time, especially if you get sentenced to community service for the other things you broke. Just make sure you keep the obligation in mind."

"I will," nodded Mae.

"I'll cover the rest myself, in exchange for your doing a little work for the church here and there. Our friend Rubello out front needs cleaning, for instance."

Mae grimaced in amusement at the idea of polishing up the fire-spitter. "Okay. I'll clean your statues and dig your ditches until I'm in the black."

The pastor sat back in her wooden chair. "I hope we can stay on good terms. There's something else I was hoping to do."

Even more? "What's that?" asked Mae.

"I was hoping to take a road trip to Mannetsburg with you."

Oh. Wow. "Seriously? To go find Bruce?"

She nodded. "I think it's what's expected of me."

"Expected?"

"Now that I'm coming to understand that there's more out there than our forebears knew, and even more than can be found in scripture or traditional teachings. I prayed, and I discovered that I needed a formative experience to underscore my personal transformation. You saw Bruce in the vision Black Goat showed you. You wanted me to go help you find him. I wasn't willing at the time. I'm willing now."

Emotion coursed through Mae. "We've gotta do that," she said. She wasn't sure how she felt about this either, but she knew it had to happen.

"I know time may be of the essence," said Pastor K. "I can clear my schedule next week from Tuesday to Friday. I don't know if that gives you enough time to arrange things with your workplace, but…"

"I can make it work," Mae promised. "And I'll call Broderick. Maybe he can help. Maybe we can meet this family he's been helping out, too."

Pastor K nodded. "I think I'd like that. All right, that's all for now, Mae. Keep me posted."

Mae gave her mother another hug and kiss on the way out, just for good luck.

Mae turned herself in at the police station, bringing along two bits of paper. One was a prepared statement she read to her aunt and her colleague Officer McConnell, confessing to the destruction of Mallard P. Bloomingro, four windows in Town Centre, and the rocketship decoration on top of the Video Outpost. She claimed to have been in a bad psychological condition at the time, one that she believed she would never repeat, but took responsibility for reaching that point in the first place. The second paper was a folded, printed invitation for her Aunt Molly to attend the burning of her favorite T-shirt.

It was an awkward visit, but better than most encounters with the police in Mae's experience. They gave her a court date and Molly promised to do her best to be at the burning. She also got Mae to promise they'd rent a legal firepit instead of trying to dig their own, which was probably for the best.

She had a heart-to-heart with her parents that had been a long time overdue, a heart-to-heart to end all heart-to-hearts. It was tough. It left Mae's mom dabbing at tears and Mae sniffling. It involved raised voices and plaintive arguments, hugs and deep sighs and, thankfully, homemade pumpkin pie. It also involved a delicate dance of love and disbelief. Mae's parents didn't believe in demons. They weren't ready to accept that anything had happened to Mae beyond mental disorder and bad fortune. Her father was willing to listen to her story of a cult in the old mines—he knew his own father had belonged to a secret society of miners and could easily imagine that such an organization could exist—it might even have evolved from a pro-labor army to the cult of arcane worshipers Mae described. But he couldn't accept that the thing they'd been worshiping was real. He couldn't trust Mae enough to believe her story. Mom didn't say what she believed—she just wanted their family to be all right. And since that was something they could all agree on, that's where they left things.

Mae stopped short of telling them that she and her friends had played a role in the mine's collapse. She was already in trouble for her really bad night—getting blamed for the deaths of eighteen old asswipes on top of that was the last thing she needed.

On chat, Gregg told Mae that he'd written down his song about the shattered church window as well as he could remember, and Angus had helped him fix it up a bit. He was excited about it now and he wanted to play it as a real song. "So u up for practice?" he sent.

] How?! I'm in Possum Springs and you're way over in Bright Harbor.

) Its the internet age, dude! Join the 21st century!

] So what, like… Livechat?

) Yea I mean Livechat! Or VoiceCloud or whatevs u wanna use. We can get microphones and turn our computers into
like, our personal bandspace!

] Hey Gregg what's ur bandwidth?

) Whatta u mean
) Like bauds and killer bauds

] I mean like how wide is your band?

) not wide enuff
) without u

] good answer. it was a joke and i didn't even think there was a good answer
] but you found it

) yeah i'm pretty rad
) sure would love to play musik with u tho

] I'm gonna have to move 2 bright harbor
] it'll suck to leave everyone
] but I think in the end it'll have to happen
] maybe dad can find a new job there
] Maybe the whole town can move there if we all get together and just
] decide!

) Yea good luck with that
) I mean this place is kind of gentrified

] we'll ungentrify it!
] we'll podunk it up, just the whole town moving in all at once!

) sounds like a plan
) Anyway I wanna play a real gig with you guys somday

] What, like an actual band does?

) You better believe it
) we'll need a name but
) I think we'll rock the place

] It's kinda weird we've been doing this band for so long and we've never
] even talked about, like, what are we called?

) I thought it was kind of a cool thing
) we're too cool for namez
) that might be a cool name except
) it's like, hypocracy

] We could be Hypocracy!
] Yo Bright Harbor! We are…
] Hypocrasy!
] is that even how u spell it

) i dunno i'm getting squiggly lines
) but I refuse to check on principle

] We could be Hypocrazy!
] Like we're crazy about hype

) we could be the Black Goats

] dude.

) Okay well maybe the Cosmic Horrors
) that's more general

] yeah okay that would work
] but then we'd have to talk to the audience in a weird language that no one ever spoke

) i got that covered
) just cram some pierogies in my mouth and try to talk

] ok sounds like a plan!
] I'll call our agent and book a stadium

) hey mae

] yea

) luvyu

] 3 3

) ok see you tomorrow at the burning
) gonna bring some lighter fluid
) and marshmallows
) and my crossbow

] gonna have so much fire!

) fire 2 inspire

] see you gregg.

October was about burning, Mae decided. The trees were burning off what they've got left from the summer… the leaves were orange, like fire, and while she didn't know exactly what was going on in there, she had the idea it was like they were burning their sugars until nothing was left and the leaves could go free. Then the leaves would fall and people would burn them, too. There were barbecues in spring and summer, but autumn barbecues had a special smell. If you barbecued in October, you were brave. It was a punk-ass thing to do. Barbecue in leather jackets. Letting yourself shine for one last time before the clouds and snow and darkness steal the sun away.

Mae wanted to burn. She wanted there to be something left of her, of course, but there had to be. Everyone had something in them that wouldn't burn up. The trick was finding it. That was the hard part, and it might even be what life was all about in the first place.

When she said all that to Selmers, Selmers said it was right on and she was going to write a poem about it. Mae said that if she finished in time, she could read it in front of everyone and then burn it.

"Wow. Burning a poem about burning? That's almost too punk."

"It's just the right amount of punk for you, Selmers! You should try it."

"All right, I'll get on it," Selmers said. With that, she dove into a leafy spot off the road and started scribbling furiously on a random flier.

The sun was going down and it was chilly. Mae had a sweater on. They'd thought about doing this in the state park, but she was glad she'd gone with the edge of town instead. They were right next to the bridge over the ravine, close enough to town that people could wander by but far enough it probably wouldn't bother anyone. The view was beautiful and the leaves were perfect. Mae would have to go to the corn maze this year before she forgot! She didn't want to miss it two years in a row.

People were here. People were actually arriving! Mae remembered being worked up over the party in the woods her first week back, wondering if she could fit in, and now she was basically having her own party. And people were actually showing up to it. Mr. Twigmeyer from her street was helping with the firepit, arranging the wood, while Gregg tried to convince him to use lighter fluid. Aunt Molly and Dan McConnell were there, and Mom and Dad, and Mr. Chazokov, all chatting quietly. Lori was there with her parents, whom Mae had never met, and CJ from school, and that ditzy girl from the video store, and Danny, talking quietly to Angus over at the edge of everything. Germ was standing near the cooler of food… and was that his family with him? They looked like him, anyway. Even Fisherman Jones was there, peering over the side of the bridge, pretending not to care.

Pastor K was there, of course. She'd given her sermon the previous day, and it had gone relatively all right. No torches or angry mobs or anything. Lots of townsfolk had said hi to Mae afterward, and even if they seemed nervous, or didn't seem to believe the pastor about her having been possessed, they didn't seem like they were so upset they wanted to fire her. Mae just tried her best to dispel all the nerves and be approachable, and she left church that day feeling like there was something ingrained deep in people that made them want to give second chances. She liked that. She really liked that.

"Hey," said Germ, now beside her.

"Hey! Glad you could make it."

"No problem. Brought franks."

"For, like, cooking over the fire? Yeah that's okay. I originally thought it'd be just for burning things up, but if people want to cook food on the fire, and create something new to go in their bellies, they can do that too. That's like the cycle of existence."

"Cool. I brought my family along. Hope you don't mind. They don't get to too many parties, so."

Mae looked at the group, standing timidly apart. An older woman, a younger woman, two girls and a skinny man with a cane. "Well this isn't really a party so much as a ceremony, but… sure, glad to have 'em."

"Oh it's a party," said Gregg, overhearing them. "Where I go, the party follows."

"Okay, Gregg said it's a party and I defer to him in party-related matters."

"Yeah, I heard he's a bartender now. You tending bar in Bright Harbor?" asked Germ.

"Tend it 'til it's tender," confirmed Gregg.

"I guess a bartender would know something about parties."

"Yep!" He stood up, happy with the arrangement of wood in the pit. "Right now I'm a tindertender."

"You miss us?" asked Germ.

Gregg frowned. "Course I miss you. But… we had to go. You know that, right?"

"Yeah," said Germ. "I know. I talk to a lot of folks who have to go places. I know how it is."

"But you never feel that way yourself?" asked Mae.

"Nope. I'm lucky that way. I'm in the right place already."

"That is pretty lucky," Mae acknowledged. "Sorry again about wanting to eat you for Thanksgiving or whatever horrible stuff I said."

"No problem. You know, I actually had a feeling you were going to snap that night."

"You did, huh?"

"Yep. I was sitting up all night with my grandad's bayonet. So even if you'd come over to my place, I would've been ready."

This horrified Mae. "God! You were gonna bayonet me?"

"Only if you made me. So it's all okay."

Holy handbaskets was this one weird kid. "Well I guess I can't blame you. But why does your family even have a bayonet?"

He shrugged. "Every family oughtta have one, I figure. It's a dangerous world."

Mae blinked. Before she could come up with a good response, Germ had moved on to chatting with Lori. That was fine with Mae—she figured those two might get along. If they grew up and got married… well, that was a weird thought, but Mae would take pride in that if it somehow did happen. She didn't want to ever have children, and it was hard enough to make a mark that mattered in the world.

"Ready for detonation!" called Gregg. The crowd turned to face him.

"Ready for ignition," corrected Mr. Twigmeyer.

"Ignition countdown!" yelled Gregg, swinging his arm and stamping his foot. "Five! Four! Three!"

"Two! One!' chanted some of the crowd.

"FIRE IT UP!" Gregg shouted. Mr. Twigmeyer struck a match and set it in the heart of the firepit. Mae hurried over to watch her fire enter the world.

For a while, several guys gathered around and urgently discussed how to keep the fire alive and growing. They poked it with sticks and moved kindling around and got it going bigger, then smaller again, then bigger bit by bit. Mae just watched, not knowing anything about fire except that it resonated with her. She stood and watched it grow as the sun went down, and most of the folks came over to watch with her.

"It's beautiful, honey," said her mom.

"Thanks Mom. It's my baby."

By the time the sky was dark, dark blue, a car chugged up and pulled off the road to park. Mea leapt with excitement and ran over. "Bea!"

But when the doors opened up, it wasn't just Bea who got out. It was Broderick. He leaned into the car to help out a passenger.

"Wow, Broderick!" called Mae, arms out. "I was wondering when you'd get here!"

Bea shut the door on her side and walked around to help Broderick. Together, the two of them helped Bea's father out of the car. He staggered for a moment, then caught his balance and stared at the gathering, frowning.

"Wow. Mr. Santello? I didn't think you'd be bringing your father, Bea!"

"I told him this was important for me. He missed my high school graduation… he could damn well come to this. Dad, you need a hand?"

"I said I was sorry about your graduation, Bea. What is this? You didn't say anything about a bonfire."

"Actually I did, Dad. You remember Mae Borowski?"

He looked at Mae and his pupils narrowed. "From dinner. I remember you. It's your confirmation?"

Confirmation? "No, I mean, it's my purification. It's true I joined the church a few weeks ago, kind of, and yes this is a spiritual thing, but…" She lifted and dropped the shirt tied around her waist. "This is for me to get rid of the last seven years."

"It's a lot to shuck at once," said Broderick, shutting the car door and walking over. "Sure you're ready?"

Mae looked at him and wanted to hug him, so she did—a little hug. "I'm ready. I'm so impressed you came all this way just for my silly thing."

"It's mine too, in a way," he said. He was dressed in black clothes that shimmered in the firelight, even while Bea was wearing blue. "It's my chance to say goodbye."

"What, to Black Goat?"

He nodded. "He was there, then he was gone. I didn't tell you everything on the phone, Mae. That night you opened the rift for him and let him through… I sat up in bed that night. It broke through my sleep. That's how sudden it was. One moment I was… myself, and the next moment…" He took a breath. "I felt so light I barely recognized myself. Like the covers couldn't keep me down."

"That's how I felt too," said Mae.

"Who are you two talking about?" asked Mr. Santello.

"No one you know, Dad," said Bea. "Come on… let's go socialize."

The two of them walked toward the knot of people near the cooler, just past the fire. "So how did you end up coming with Bea?" Mae asked.

"I met her in the street, trying to get her father to follow. Seemed like she was having trouble, so I stopped."

"Yeah, he doesn't seem to really be all there."

"So I figured. I was glad to be in the right place to help."

Mae patted Broderick on the shoulder. "You're so good."

He looked dim for a moment. "I tried to be good to the interloper. To welcome him to our world, as well as I could. But it was you who let him out."

Mae shivered, remembering. "He… it… didn't want to go. It wanted to stay here, almost more than it wanted to live! But I guess those men in the mineshaft finally all died without jumping in, or it wouldn't have been so hungry. I guess they decided if they were going to die anyway, there wasn't much point in giving Black Goat more satisfaction."

Broderick spread his hands in uncertainty in that beautiful way he had. "Who knows how men like that think? I almost feel like I understand the goat better."

"Well then maybe you can tell me this. Why was it so important for it to be up here, instead of where it came from?" She threw out her own hands, a wild sort of mirror of his own gesture. "Why was it so desperate to stay that it was willing to push 'til the brink of starvation before giving in and letting me bash a way back home?"

Broderick reflected, drawing his supple shoulders inward. He and Mae watched the people gather around the fire, the bridge, the cooler. "I asked him that very question. I listened hard for an answer."

Mae peered into his eyes. "And?"

"I even think he was trying to answer. But I never got the whole of it. I think he hated where he came from. I think he wanted someplace new."

Mae shivered in the October air. "I'm starting to know how that feels."

Broderick looked around. "It's a nice town you've got here. What's wrong with it?"

Mae shrugged, wondering if she should offer to show him around. "Nothing, really," she replied. "It's just that… everyone's leaving."

He nodded knowingly and watched the fire rise.

Gregg tapped her on the shoulder. "Hey Maebird. Sadie and Saleem want to know if they should start playing now."

She looked over toward the musicians sitting on the bridge rail, waiting patiently like they had nothing in the world to do but enhance Mae's event. Her chill was suddenly replaced with warmth. She waved to the pair and gave them a big thumbs up, and they solemnly took up their instruments and started to fill the air with a half-improvised saxophone/violin duet.

She listened for a while, paying only scant attention to Gregg chatting with Broderick behind her. Then, knowing suddenly that it was time, she sprang forward toward the fire, stacked up an empty cooler and a box, and stood on top to get everyone's attention. "Hey everyone!"

The talking gradually ceased and all eyes turned to Mae. "Hey, so thanks so much for attending my ceremonial burn purge. Just to be clear, this isn't a real thing. It's a thing I made up. But it's something I really needed. You might have heard about my problems with… well, with my head, and with this thing inside me, and with everything."

A few of the people nodded. Mae could see that she was redder than usual in the glint of the fire. She could feel the flames licking at her, wanting to take her in, fighting with the chilly weather for whether her destiny would be cold or warm. She took a deep breath, grinning. Mae loved the autumn. It was a challenge.

She went on to tell everyone about her struggle—the dreams, the disoriented moments, the Deep Hollow Hollerers. She didn't mention the cult or the old mine, but talked about her conversations with the God Cat and with Black Goat itself. She described the 'Killer' incident and managed to get through without crying, and found to her surprise that the crowd was dead silent—transfixed. She described the eclipse and her subsequent dreams. She invited Broderick to speak, and he did, but kept it brief, deferring to Mae. It was her event, after all, and he didn't want to distract from it.

So Mae described how her orange shirt with the circle and crossbar was the first thing she'd made when she'd returned to school, and how she now realized Black Goat had been behind it. She didn't want to be branded, she explained to the crowd. She wanted to be her own person. And she described, in impassioned detail, the night from the previous week when the desire to murder had risen and risen, and she hadn't been able to stay inside, but had roamed the town, wreaking havoc—until Gregg had made a midnight journey to save her through the power of rock music and friendship. And he'd succeeded, she told them. He'd helped her hold out until the demon in her gave up from starvation, and she hadn't killed anyone—and now it was gone from her and gone from the world. She untied the shirt from her waist and held it up. "A lot of folks around here won't know me without this shirt, I bet. I wore it, like, all the time. But it's marked with a sign from another place. A place where things are apparently so crappy, even a demon can't be happy there. I don't want our place to be like that one. I want Earth to be a good place, where people are happy to stay! And for that matter, I want Possum Springs to be like that, too. I love this town." Now, and only now, Mae's voice cracked up. "I want this town to last forever. It's worth it. It deserves it. But if we can't last forever, let's at least try to keep what's worth keeping. Wherever we end up going. Let's burn what has to be burned so we can keep what's worth keeping."

A few of the grown-ups clapped. Someone Mae barely recognized from church said "Hear hear."

Mae held the shirt at arm's length by the sleeves. It billowed in the flame's wind. The edges crackled as the seams caught fire.

She closed her eyes as she dropped it. Then she watched it burn, burn, burn. It was gone in twenty seconds, maybe fifteen. It was that old and that ready to die.

There was applause. Then, after a few moments had passed, Bea stepped forward. "Are the rest of us welcome to burn things, or are you keeping this fire for yourself?"

Mae looked down in mild surprise. "You can burn stuff. Go ahead and burn stuff! It's a burning."

Bea nodded. She heaved something black into the flame and watched with satisfaction.

"Oh dude, Bea! Your favorite dress?!"

"It's not the dress, just the leggings," Bea said, not looking up. "God, what was I thinking. Black leggings." She looked around. "Sorry for being such a downer the last few years, everyone. Just by the way."

"We understand, Bea," said Pastor K. 'I've got something to burn, myself."

"Wow," said Mae. "Okay, well. Burning party then! Keep the stuff coming!"

The townsfolk laughed, but to Mae's surprise, they did. The pastor burned a thesis she'd written in seminary that she apparently no longer believed in. Germ burned a jar full of hairballs that had apparently been coughed up by the family's now dead cat, and a T-shirt that had been his brother's. Angus burned a picture of his parents. Sadie burned some kind of pamphlet, not saying why. Lori ran home for a stuffed spider to burn; it made the fire smell foul for a few minutes. Danny burned a bunch of old employee manuals. The Smelters fan from Millers burned some old stat sheets and sportsball cards, presumably from players they didn't respect anymore. Someone from town burned a worn out corduroy jacket. The Hartleys, crying and holding each other, dropped in a piece of paper. From up high, Mae could see what it was—the Missing poster from the town bulletin board. Selmers burned all her leftover Sylvam beauty products. Gregg shot a crossbow bolt into the blaze.

Then Mae finally came down from her perch. "Okay folks! That's enough burning! Time for some fun! Get out the marshmallows and hot dogs! You guys, start playing something nice!" Sadie and Saleem switched to an upbeat tune with a bayou jazz flavor, and the ceremony turned into the party it was always meant to be.

Mae went and relaxed on the bridge, watching everyone having a good time. She missed the feel of her familiar shirt, but her sweater kept her warm, and she still felt light inside. The future wasn't something she had to worry about, right now. She liked where she was. She liked who she was.

A croaky throat rattle caught her attention and she glanced up. A possum was hanging from a girder. "Rabies! You came!" This was met by another, louder rattle.

"Hey Rabies. You got anything you want to burn? Any crimes from the past you want to forget about? Any old hopes worth letting go?"

He swung there, curling his snout at her. No, of course Rabies wouldn't have anything to burn. He lived his life with no regrets.

One of Germ's sisters ran up. "Oh hey! Is this that possum you told us about, Jeremy?"

"Yeah, that's the guy. Rabies, meet my sister, Arabelle. Arabelle, Rabies!"

Mae smiled and strolled further down the bridge, making room for the introduction. She sat far enough from the crowd that the fire was a little dot, and yet even without her, the townspeople were enjoying themselves. This was a kind of pride she'd hardly ever felt before. She'd given all these people the push they needed to be happy… or sad, or whatever, but together. This was the pride of a little girl who'd just completed an weird-looking art project destined to get an A. Mae sniffed as she remembered that there'd been a time in her life when she'd been proud—genuinely proud, not just pretend proud—on a regular basis. She was going to start doing that again.

The sound of a throat clearing. It wasn't Rabies this time—it was Bea. Mae looked over to see her sitting on the opposite rail. "Whoa! You snuck up on me."

"Technically, you sneaked up on me. I was sitting back here first." To smoke her one cigarette of the day, evidently.

"It's a nice place, isn't it? To think? And smoke, I guess?"

Bea took a moment before answering: "Yeah."

"I jumped down there once, believe it or not. I didn't die."

"Holy hell, Mae. That's like a forty foot drop."

"Yeah, but it's soft leaves and dirt. I was only a little effed up."

"You are a maniac."

"Yeah, well." Mae felt a lot less maniacal now than she had then. "So how's your dad?"

"The neighbors are watching him, and we brought a lawn chair. He'll be okay."

"Well, but… in general."

Bea took a drag on her cigarette. "In general? He's not getting better. He's had three years. I've come to accept my dad's never coming back. Not the dad I knew."

Mae was sad to hear it. "Oh gosh, Bea. I'm sorry."

"Yeah. Well." Bea fingered the ankh around her neck. "That's life. Some people die all at once… some die half at a time. You mourn by halves, if you have to."

Mae sniffled and remembered Bea's house, her happy family, her brighter times. "Bea, I wish it could all come back!"

"Yeah. Me too."

The silence grew, and Mae realized that this was the good sort of sadness. This was mourning. This was honest-to-God mourning, and there was nothing wrong with it. The thought made the sadness sweet, in a way.

"I'm getting ready to talk Dad into putting the store in my name," said Bea.

"Oh wow. Is he gonna go for that?"

She puffed on her single daily cigarette. "Nope."

"Oh."

"It's gonna be a whole thing. I may need to go to court. Have him declared non compos mentis. I've started looking into the procedure."

"Oh Bea. Do you want my help? I could be there for when you ask him. I could pick out dinner."

She shook her head. "Nah, I should do it alone. I don't want to give the sense he's being ganged up on. Besides, if it came to it, I'm pretty sure I could take him in a fight."

Wow. "You're so smart, Bea. And so strong. I don't think I could do what you do." In her head, Mae often compared Bea to Adina Astra. They had their race in common, of course, but more importantly, they were both women with the bravery and gumption to get what they wanted.

Bea puffed in silence, leaning back. "Says the girl who was ready to give up her life for me," she muttered.

"Still would," said Mae.

Bea looked at her. "I'll tell you what. If you want to help, there is one thing you can do."

"What's that?"

Bea dug in her pocket and passed her a few dollar bills. "Go buy me a beer."

Mae blinked, then looked up in amazement. "You remembered!"

Bea smiled a tiny, sly smile. "Happy birthday."

"Oh my god, Bea! You're the only person who remembered. My own fricking parents didn't even say anything."

"I'm sure they remember. They probably just realized you didn't want a normal birthday party."

"Birthdays are about the past," Mae explained. "This is about letting go of the past."

"You could burn a calendar from the year you were born," Bea suggested.

"I don't want to let go of that much past!" Mae protested. "Besides, who would keep a calendar around that long?"

"You'd be surprised what people sell online."

"Geez, Bea. Do you seriously want the beer or not?"

"Yeah I want the beer. The cheap stuff they've got in the cooler is crap. You know what I like?"

"Basically anything independent or imported?"

"So long as it's not some off-the-wall flavor, pretty much."

Mae ran back to the party and kissed her father and mother. "Hey guys. I know this is my thing, but I'm gonna run to town and do an errand for Bea. Back in ten minutes."

"Don't fall off any roofs," warned Mom lovingly.

"Don't break both your legs and lie suffering in pain without anyone to help because everyone you love is here at your party," said Gregg helpfully.

"Okay," said Mae. She ran to leave, but at the edge of the crowd the corner of her eye caught an unexpected face. It was the janitor from the bus station, and the Harfest play. "Oh wow," she said. "Even you came?"

"Some reason I shouldn't?" asked the janitor. "Fliers said 'All welcome'."

"I mean, no, no reason! I just… wasn't expecting you."

The man held up a trash stick poked through several wrappers from the party. "Someone's gotta clean up."

"Um… yeah, I guess so! Thanks for tackling that, then. I appreciate it."

"No problem," he said. "Not every day a girl turns twenty-one."

Mae blinked as he walked away. Here she was, celebrating the disappearance of a bizarre, otherworldly thing from her life, as if there weren't a million really weird things right here on Earth worth celebrating.

She dashed off toward Millers to buy beer for the first time ever. It was good to be young—she was going to have a lot more 'first-ever's before they started giving way to 'never-again's.

The next day, Mae, Pastor K and Broderick left on a road trip. They'd arranged the timing this way on purpose: Broderick had left his car at home and bussed to Possum Springs so that he could ride with the two ladies back to Mannetsburg. "The more the merrier," Mae had declared.

"I don't necessarily see this as a merry occasion," Pastor Kate had contributed. "But the more hearts we have along, the more solace there is to be had. How does that sound?"

"I'll take it," Mae had replied.

Over the daylong trip, Mae told Pastor K all the details of her dreams. She told her about the giant cat who wasn't God, and about the huge hole in the center of everything, and how it was growing, and would eventually be the only thing left in existence, and how the beginning was so close to the end that there was no time to forget. The pastor had been right—that conversation wasn't merry. But they puzzled out the implications together, and in the end all three agreed they'd been better off for having it.

Pastor K was especially intrigued to learn that Black Goat had felt love for Mae in the end. "Are you sure it was what we'd call love?" she asked.

Mae affected a weird bug voice. "Teach me, strange creatures, of this feeling you know as… love." Broderick laughed in the back seat.

"No, but seriously," said the pastor.

"Seriously. It hated me, but it loved me. It was purer than your everyday garden variety love, even!"

"I felt it too," said Broderick. "I had a better relationship with the creature. It was capable of love. It was capable of downright every emotion we have and then some, I think."

"So I guess love is universal," said Mae.

"This is difficult for me to wrap my head around," Pastor K admitted. "The literature all says that demons are devoid of love."

"Well," reasoned Mae, "I guess either the literature is wrong…"

"…or this wasn't a demon," said Broderick.

Pastor K sighed and drove in silent contemplation. "Lord, the marvels thou hast made for us are of sundry and unending texture," she murmured.

"Unending," echoed Broderick.

"Hast," said Mae.

They spent the night in Broderick's home, where his family had generously cleared a space for them in the cellar. In the morning, they went to the cabin where Broderick introduced them to the family left behind by one of the three men who'd killed his father. Things were tense there, but the mother and children appreciated their help. Broderick chopped wood while Mae found creative and questionable ways to clean the bathroom. Pastor K donated five hundred dollars to the mother, then sat and read from Scripture to her in the living room. Before they left, the woman told Broderick she thanked God he'd come, and that he wasn't a man of spite. "You have every right to hate us," she said, "but here you are."

"Here I am," said Broderick, shrugging as if just being here were the most amazing thing in the world.

They went wandering then in the woods, looking for the foliage and landmarks Mae and Broderick had seen in their vision. They remembered them differently, and disagreed on how to read the map, and when the sun began to set, they gave up and decided to retreat back to Broderick's place for supper. But then, just as they'd left the woods behind them, Mae happened to trip on a ridge in the land and fall into a ditch…

And heard a loud "Ooof!" from underneath her.

"Wha—seriously? Bruce, is that you?!"

It was him. The drifter got his bearings and looked up at Mae in amazement. "Now this. This can't be real," he said.

"It does seem a little improbable," said Pastor K, standing above them.

He pushed Mae off and got to his feet. His hair and beard were a ghastly mess, and he had a sore on his neck. "…Now you two, I know. Most of them are just blurs, but you, I know. The pastor from Possum Springs. The girl who cared so much."

Mae hugged him. "Bruce, you didn't go home to your kid's house! You lied to us!"

He grunted. "How in the world did you find me here?"

"Divine intervention," said Pastor K smugly. "Would you care to tell us what you were doing sleeping in a ditch?"

He shook his head. "You shouldn't have followed me here. How far did you have to come? I'm not worth all that travel. I'm not."

Pastor K pointed toward the fence in the distance, with Broderick's house on the other side. "What say we head back to civilization and discuss it over a mug of coffee?"

Bruce shivered. "Won't turn coffee down."

"Good," said the pastor. "That's a start."

It was a long evening and a long next day. Bruce met Broderick and his family, and heard a lot of stories he only half believed. And he offered a lot of resistance. His daughter, it turned out, was real, but he couldn't go back to her: she'd been the reason he'd had to leave in the first place. He'd done some terrible things to her in the 'thrall of drink', as he put it, and she'd never take him back, with good reason. Pastor K was able to talk him into checking into a rehabilitation program. She found him a case worker in Mannetsburg and got him to promise to check in with her twice weekly. With luck, there would be spots at the shelters, and maybe even a job opening. At the least, the program would help him with his drinking. He seemed resigned but grateful by the time they had to leave.

And Mae helped! She said encouraging things at the right times (and some of the wrong ones), and she brought back coffee from the local coffee place. At this rate, she might wind up being a professional beverage deliverer. Maybe she should ask her boss to put her on delivery duty? She'd assumed she couldn't be a taco deliveryperson because she didn't drive, but it wasn't like Possum Springs was exactly sprawling. She bet she'd be great at delivering tacos. She'd walk on your power line and pass it through your window! People would be delighted to get a Mae Borowski delivery. They'd go to Taco Buck to order delivery and then go home to collect it—that's how fun she would make it!

Despite having to say goodbye to Broderick, the drive back was a lot happier and less somber than the drive over. Instead of talking cosmology, Mae and Pastor K listened to a bunch of CDs the pastor had brought. It turned out she liked listening to music from all over the world. Mae would ask where the people making that music were from, and what those instruments were, and Pastor K would answer. Then they listened to the radio, and stopped for sandwiches, and then they told stories. Pastor K told stories from Scripture—at Mae's request, the ones that were either happy or extra gruesome. And Mae told Adina stories that she remembered from her childhood. She had to punch them up because she didn't remember the details, and she even had Adina jump from a cliff a few times when she couldn't remember what happened next—it became an in-joke between the two. But they made it more or less through Adina's life just in time to reach the end of the trip.

Mae bounded out of the car and leapt on top of it to stretch. "Back in Possum Springs! It feels so good to be back home!"

"Mae, as your slave owner, would you please get off of my car?"

"Oh right." Mae always forgot these things were so fragile you could actually hurt them by jumping on them. She leapt off.

"I think we've done good work."

"We totally did! I mean, it'd be nice if we knew what more we're supposed to do. But I guess there's no one telling us that."

"We can pray for guidance," the pastor said. "But there's no guarantee we'll receive it."

"I just know I'm gonna be busy like all next week making up the shifts I missed," said Mae. "I'll probably be praying for nothing to go wrong."

"Always reasonable," said the pastor.

There followed a week of extra shifts in which Mae was frequently approached by people congratulating her on her successful purging, on finding the church, on being a good, productive member of society at last. Mae did her best to thank them all. She didn't mention that she didn't really believe in the church; she just went there for the company and the good feelings. But maybe that was believing in it, sort of? Why does anyone go anywhere? Did her customers order tacos because they believed in Taco Buck?

A week of legal stuff and giving testimony and negotiating settlements and meeting with lawyers and officers of the court. When the dust had cleared, Mae owed $750 to Video Outpost and $750 to the town of Possum Springs, and had 50 hours of community service to serve. She wasn't crazy about being in debt, but figured this way at least she got to have some of the college experience. Mae didn't mind the community service at all—there weren't many things she'd rather do than help her community. Sure, some of the work sucked, but some of it was fun, like shoveling snow, or even picking up garbage. Again, she found herself wondering whether she should look into janitorial work. If it meant being a weird all-seeing sage on top of the cleaning up part, she was totally up for that.

A month of spending her weekends working for the town and working for Pastor K, with several more like it to come. Life was tough, but Mae found that getting up earlier was easier and easier. And how about that—nothing bad seemed to be happening to Possum Springs, Black Goat or no Black Goat. Well, the people were still moving away now and then, sure. But Mae was pretty sure it wasn't as many as before she became a productive, exemplary member of society. Who would move away from a town with someone like her in it? She might not have college on her horizon, but she was pretty sure she was making a dent in things just by being herself.

"Hey," said Bea. It was just about closing time, and Mae was delighted to see her friend.

"Beabea! You never come for tacos! What's the occasion?"

"Yeah, no offense, but the tacos you guys serve are like cardboard pizza. I was just wondering if you could help me out with something."

Mae leapt over the counter. She was tired, but there was always an extra little pocket of energy to help Beabea out with. "Sure! What can I do for ya?"

"You can help me spend a hundred dollars at Donut Wolf," deadpanned Bea.

"A… what?"

Bea held up an oversized gift certificate. "Just happen to have this hundred dollar gift certificate, so…"

Mae squealed and tackled her in a hug. "Bea! You entered the contest after all! And you won second place?!"

"I was one of twenty-five second place winners, yes."

"Oh my gosh! But Bea, you tore apart the flier card!"

"Tape exists. When you work at a hardware store, you learn these things."

"You didn't even tell me you were entering!"

"On the off chance I won, I wanted to surprise you. So sue me."

"Aww, Bea! I'm sure your video was so good! What did you talk about?"

"I talked about my family situation, and about how Donut Wolf has always been a reliable source of joy whenever we needed comfort." Mae stared, coaxing her to go on. "…And I talked about that time we painted a picture with jelly Go-nuts on that school counselor's windshield."

Mae laughed. "That afternoon was awesome! How could they not give you first prize for that?"

Bea shrugged. "Go figure. You up for it next Saturday?"

"Totally. Oh my god, are you inviting the guys? They can't not come to this."

"They're coming," said Bea. "I'm inviting Germ too, and Jackie. Don't get your hopes up, but I just may have a special guest too."

"Really? Who?"

"You'll find out Saturday."

"Aw, come on, Bea! Who is it?"

"My lips are sealed. If he doesn't show up, I don't want you getting disappointed."

"He?"

"He."

"He, like as in, a date he?"

"See you Saturday, Mae."

It was a beautiful December day. The spirit of Longest Night was beginning to dance in everyone's hearts, and there were no flat tires on the way over, which was always a plus. Jackie hadn't made it, but Germ had, and he told everyone in detail what he intended to eat, item by impossible item. It seemed he intended to spend half the hundred dollars on his own.

"Germ, you are a small person," said Bea. "There is no way you could fit even half that number of slammerjacks and chariot wheels in your belly."

"I've got a big capacity," he said.

"Bet I can eat anything you can eat," said Gregg.

"Hey Gregg," Mae put in, "I once dreamed you said you could eat three donuts at once. You man enough to back that up?"

"What, you're holding me to a brag I made in one of your dreams?"

"You man enough?"

"Heck yeah I'm man enough. If I said it in a dream, I must've meant it, right?"

They arrived in the parking lot and Bea pulled up carefully next to a silver hatchback. "Hey guys? I want to introduce you to Curtis. He drove all the way from Red River to join us, so be nice."

Curtis was waiting by his car, all bashful smiles and a bit on the thick-set side. "Bea! Wow, look at all your wonderful friends!"

"Glad you could join us, Curtis." She leaned forward and he gave her a kiss on the cheek.

"OH MY GOD!" shrieked Mae. "Bea is dating! Is this a date? Are we on a date right now?"

"I think we're on a date!" said Gregg. "Everyone couple up! I call the big guy."

"Oh lordie," said Bea. "Everyone, I met Curtis at a party in Red River, and yes, we've gone on exactly one date since then. This is our number two."

"Curtis, what exactly do you like the most about Bea?" asked Mae. "Be specific." She knew she was being rude, but she had to know if he was under the impression she was going to college.

"God. Mae."

But Curtis took the question seriously. "I haven't known her that long yet, but my impression is she's pretty amazing. As if being practically a business owner at our age isn't impressive enough… she doesn't just run the store, she actually does house calls. How phat is that? A hardware store that does house calls? And unlike us college types who need to be taught how to learn, she's always educating herself, any chance she can!"

Mae let out a huge sigh of relief, grinning. "Wow, Bea! You actually told the truth about yourself?"

Bea glared at Mae. "Yes, Mae. It turns out that some college students are actually willing to date people who aren't in college."

"So you were wrooong?"

"…Yes, Mae. I was wrong."

Mae turned to Curtis. "Bea admits it when she's wrong! How many people do that? You should definitely marry her."

"Oh my God, Mae, shut up."

But Gregg was laughing, and after a few moments, so was everyone.

Having spoken with the stars, Adina Astra knew what she must do. She would venture into the Cave of the Snake, in the cradle of civilization, in search of the center of the earth.

Some said it was to retreat from the world—that ever since her lover's execution, the famed astronomer wanted no more part in the affairs of people, and wished to live out her years alone. Others speculated that she was searching for some artifact, or some ancient creature with great powers—perhaps the power to see farther into the sky than ever before, or even the power to bring her lover back to life. Still others said it was divine madness—that no one who had beheld the entirety of the Lost Constellation could remain under the night sky for long without being overwhelmed by its beauty. That was the price of its discovery: it could not be endured for long by mortal hearts.

The truth was a bit of all these reasons. Adina had grown weary of the politics of the world, and despaired of ever meeting another she would love as truly as the one she had lost. She harbored hopes of meeting the descendants of Broken Snake, rumored to be the wisest beings in the world, if only they still lived deep beneath the surface of the world. And it was true that her congress with the stars had left her unwilling to remain where she was, discontent to lead a normal scientist's life. But the real reason Adina went into the Cave of the Snake was the same reason people wander and sail the curves of the earth: a desire for something new. She had gleaned almost everything she could from life on the surface of the world, and rather than toil decade after lonely decade for what little remained to be gleaned, she chose to travel. Adina would leave her sky, and in so doing leave her realm, but she would enter a new place. Thus would she either die, or her life begin anew.

"There is no place in this universe that will last forever," she wrote to her colleagues in her final letter. "If we are to last forever in our influence, if not our person, then we must remain in motion. We may settle down for a while, but we can never settle down forever. In time, even the greatest of empires will be eclipsed; even the mightiest of mountains will crumble; even the most powerful of beings will perish. To stay in one place is to welcome a desert to grow and spread around oneself as one expends all resources within reach. If we wish to live beyond our years, we must move, knowing that we will move again, and again, ad infinitum. Each of us leaves the world in time, but existence endures. That is why I now venture into the earth, leaving behind my sky of stars. There is no blanket that must someday not be left behind; no journey that must not someday be undertaken. We are not alone in this world; there are universes within universes to be discovered. At times, the search is an inward one, and if I never return, do not assume I am dead or that I have lost all love for the world. Simply assume that I have chosen to remain in motion.

"Yours truly,
Adina Astra—Astronomer"

Goodbye, Possum Springs. I'll see you on the other side.

A/N: It's been a blast for me. I didn't expect this story would last long past the solar eclipse, but it stretched into ten chapters, and now, fittingly enough, I'm posting the final chapter on Halloween.

This project wasn't as long as my previous fan fiction works for Undertale and My Little Pony. It's a novella, not a novel. Still, it meant a lot to me. :-) If it meant anything to you, please leave a comment or PM and let me know.

I imagine the abandoned family in the woods as possums, I suppose, and Curtis as a leopard. Oh, and Selmers did finish her poem in time. It was called, "The Part That Doesn't Burn Up."

Does Mae ever go to college? Does Bea, for that matter? Will the band ever play a real gig? Will Possum Springs ever fall apart? And what was Black Goat after in the first place? Did it leave its home simply in order to remain in motion?

I don't know the answers to these questions. But I do know I've really enjoyed the journey, and I'm looking forward to playing NitW's deluxe "Weird Autumn Edition," out December 13th.

The next piece of fan fiction I'm planning to post is an old shipfic set in the world of Pac-Man, of all things. I only recently realized it makes sense to revise it and post it here, so watch for that if you like my writing, and feel encouraged to check out my previous stories. It's possible I may write another Night in the Woods piece—maybe something fluffy, just to give me an excuse to use the characters again. I think writing the characters was the most fun part of this project.

Either way, best wishes to you all, and have an interesting Halloween.