The men stood apart for a moment listening to Emma speak. Marrell lay still, blood oozing out of his wounds.

Will slogged forward carefully, his eyes fixed on Nerve. The other man gave him no notice. Will stumbled past him, out of the water.

“Will, the Wild-”

Will shot a glance back at Nerve, who fell silent.

He drew breath, and he sang.

Weary day’s work is done,
All come home.
Now that the war is won,
All come home.

Nerve stifled a sob and joined in the Mourning.

No more we’ll see the sun,
All come home.
Weary day’s work is done,
All come home.

The men staggered towards the children lying on the bank. Will lay a hand on Emma’s shoulder. She looked up at him, eyes once more the color of silver, and began to cry.

“Why didn’t it work?” she gasped between snuffling sounds.

“I don’t know, Emma,” said Will. “I don’t understand anything that has happened today.”