They, the water--the more she speaks of it, the less he knows how to feel. Relief, at how the pattern of this sudden madness doesn't match the brittle despair he's encountered on the other side? Fear for what else it might be? The outcome's the same, if he hadn't come by. Another person lost, with no creature to fight.

None he can see.

Taking a deep breath, Owen tests the link of their fingers, and trusts the knots he's been tying most of his life. He tries to put into his mind the worst of what could follow: the way she might plead or berate him; the way she might attack; the very real possibility that he will have to choke a young girl out to save her life. None of them are as bad as letting her drown herself at the bottom of a lake.

"I'm ready," he agrees, and walks decidedly toward the houses.