Hours had passed while she held Dickey and slept, conserving her strength, waiting for darkness and this calling in her dreams. She woke in the center of the night, powerful, ready for her first human kill. She doused the fire in the stove and put a squirming, protesting Dickey in the shoulder pack he hadn’t used for months. After ordering him to be quiet, she strengthened the bond with her cousin and her missing son. The stars swirled around her as her mind soared toward them, while her body swiftly followed. Helen reached Russ’s campsite an hour before dawn. She unstrapped Dickey’s harness and ordered the boy to stay quiet and hidden. When he had done as she asked, she crouched in a stand of scrubby bushes at the edge of the clearing and studied her prey. Russ had loaded his supplies into the trunk of the car and was just bringing out the children. Alan led, followed by Hillary carrying Patrick and, behind her, a fourth, a girl a little younger than Hillary who seemed as frightened of the man as the others were.
