A Spectre called me last night to follow her down to the meadow. I had never seen one before, and it didn't swim the way I expected. Every Spectre is different, says Uncle Wendell. I managed to walk close enough to smell her; I knew it was a Horse Spectre (rare). Her cloak had torn and it lost its luster, but she still wore it proudly. Her eyes pointed me to the forest, but I had already frozen. I tried to sleep myself, but I could not. Fear swam down from the trees and wet my face. The Spectre bucked and cooed. When she began to sing, I fell on the ground and bruised my knees.

My mother said it meant that I would never die, since I heard the Spectre sing.

Meredith didn't believe me. We sat under the Bishop while Travis slept. I wanted to take off my hat and show her my face, but I felt silly. I wanted to stay there forever, but everyone kept biting us and we had to go back to her father's patio. Before I left, Meredith gave me a small tree, wrapped in a book.

For luck.