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Emmerich nodded, a soft bobbing of his head. The compliment was nice. The boy was pleased that Mahler had offered it to him.

His mind was still on Isa. The yellow of his eyes shifted to the trees. She had always been smart, though he never would have let her know he believed it. It didn’t seem right that she had gotten diverted by a rainstorm. It didn’t seem right that she would not disappear intentionally before she would allow herself to be swept away and lost in the rain. Emmerich didn’t know, of course. He had spent many hours thinking about it, regardless.

Anselm found his way back.

This meant Isa would, too.