THE SHARED MEMORY The fire in our tent was burning low, turning the wood into glowing red bones. Outside, the night was quiet, except for the occasional howl of a wolf in the distance. It wasn't a scary sound anymore; it was just the sound of the world we lived in.

Demetrius was sitting on the edge of the bed, his broad shoulders hunched forward. He had been quiet all evening. Not the cold kind of quiet, but the kind where a person's mind is a thousand miles away.

I walked over and sat on the ...