“Leo moved to follow the scattering group when a figure just out of the firelight caught his eye, a mirage at the edge of the moonlight, stepping out of the small horse pen. Stick-straight hair sparked the memory of fall leaves and naked skin on the bank of the river. It was a hazy memory, or maybe he was already half out of it, already dreaming. Shaking his head, Leo climbed into his tent and tumbled onto the sleeping bag there.”