Nate wasn’t sure what woke him up that night at the camp. It wasn’t any nightmare. He listened to the silence, heard the sound of his parents breathing on the other side of the wall. There was no threat in this darkness. No snowmobiles racing through the woods toward them. No ghosts.

He climbed out of his bed and entered the front room. He filled up the Ashley, left the door open a moment, enjoying the leaping flames. Then he closed it up and walked out onto the sunporch. The weather had broken over the last week. It was still below freezing at night, but the melt was on. Real spring was on its way, a month or so later than for anybody else in the world, it seemed.

He slipped on his gum boots and stepped outside. The sky was wheeling with stars, but he was looking for one particular constellation. Where was it? There. The Ram truck. He picked out the headlights, the gun rack, the taillights. And there was George Star at the wheel, bright as ever. But there was another star there, too, faint but holding its own. It looked as if George had picked himself up a passenger.