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away.
    â€œYou’re going to have to be strong now. You can do that, can’t you?” I say. “There are more of us. We’ll help you. And I promise…” I stop to make sure she’s looking at me. “I promise no one will hurt you again.”
    I’m not sure what I’ve committed myself to, but I don’t know what else to say. She’s so helpless and confused, and I begin to worry about her safety once out in the Territory.
    Jasper says there are some who work against the Fold; their allegiance is only to themselves. They target vulnerable souls like the girl to see if they can use them. I’ll have to make sure she doesn’t have to walk alone.
    Maybe Conrad can help—him or one of the other wanderlings. They would be willing to accompany the girl for as long as it takes.
    I first met Conrad in the woods surrounding this cottage. He was so innocent, so oblivious to the raw deal he’d received. Yet I was struck by his loyalty and protectiveness. If he only knew the truth of why he was here…
    I turn my attention to the window. The sun is going down and the wanderlings will be searching for hiding places along the fringes of the Territory. From there they will watch people’s dreams during the night. I’ll have to look for Conrad in the morning.

The Wolf
    November 26th, 1986
    Inside the Driver’s Camaro
    The tires resist before grabbing the pavement. From there, the Camaro’s exhaust lets loose its discontented moan. There’s no one to complain about my driving on this back country road, so I don’t moderate my speed. I need to get back to the cottage soon.
    I don’t like leaving the girl alone for long. I have visions of someone stumbling upon the cottage and finding her inside. The worst would be someone ready to do violence for no reason—like the man called Tickseed.
    Last week Jasper and I found ourselves in the same alleyway as he. Our encounter was brief. Tickseed was well-spoken and harmless in his mannerisms—almost old-fashioned—but Jasper hurried us along as if Tickseed was leprous.
    Later Jasper explained the atrocities Tickseed was willing to commit in order to survive in the Territory. He cautioned me against even conversing with Tickseed.
    This seemed silly at the time—almost childish. I’m confident I can handle myself should our paths cross. As the car goes up and over the next rise, I realize I’ll get a chance to test that theory. There’s a figure further up the road, maybe ten feet from the shoulder. Somehow I know it’s Tickseed.
    He’s bent over, struggling with something near the trees. Whatever it is, it’s giving him a fight, but he continues to choke it.
    I slow the car to an idle to get a better look, and then bring it to a full stop when I see Tickseed has hold of a harbinger.
    Its wraith-like form thrashes, but without arms it can’t fight back. I want it to scream or make some kind of protest, but it remains silent while Tickseed struggles to keep it under control.
    Tickseed turns when he hears the tires skid in the gravel. “Your sense of timing is…unfortunate,” he says, dropping the harbinger like a dog whose lost interest in its toy. He takes a half-step towards my position on the road and says, “Come here. I want to show you something.”
    â€œThat’s OK. I think I’ll stay here,” I say from the Camaro’s open window. I’m not going near him.
    â€œToo busy playing hero, are we?” he says with venom. “You and your stupid car…” Leaning against the tree with his hands in his pockets, he tips his head a bit, almost as if to watch for my response.
    â€œPlaying hero?” I ask as the harbinger darts away and dissolves into mist.
    â€œDon’t play dumb, my friend. I know how you spend your nights.” He snickers like he’s trying to incite a reaction from me, then he continues. “I