Doran helped hold her nephew down. Will Terry was battered, hardened, scarred—scarcely recognizable with his teeth bared.
But, oddly, Joe knew just what to say to soothe him.
"Will, you can see that we're like you. Maybe we don't want to be, but we are, now. We can't drag you back again to Port Laribee."
The kid relaxed a little. His pale eyes turned puzzled but wary.
"About the other boy, Will—Danny Bryant?" Doran asked.
Will's lip curled. "He was weak and dumb," he said, fumbling with unused words. "I took him back long ago."
"You did fine, Will," Joe said. "Now what have you found here in the hills? You've been camping in one place for a while. Show us."
Joe had to use harsh command against the sullenness still in the boy. He did so bluntly, driven by grim hope and need.