The sun slips behind the towering bluffs a half-hour before true sundown, giving the warm evening a dim orange glow. The eight of us walk down the path that will take us to the beach, a canopy of leaves shadowing our way. The boys carry the flashlights, but as of yet, we've had no need to use them, and I linger a little behind as the path starts to descend the slope.

It's been four hours since Philip disappeared, and while I've been distracted and a little standoffish, the effects of his presence have been lingering.

Between dinner and now, I've been doing okay, listening to the others joke, laughing at the appropriate times, asking questions of Blake to encourage him to keep talking. But now the sense of peace and confidence is gone, and though it's gradually been fading for hours, its complete absence feels like an abrupt shock to my system.

The girls laugh playfully as the boys crack dirty jokes and descend down the slope, and I'm considering going back. I know where this path leads, and I don't want to see the lake right now. Maybe later. Maybe when Philip returns, and—

How do I know he's going to return? Maybe he saw Blake and—

Blake turns to me, shining the flashlight briefly in my face.

"Ya' doing okay?"

"Huh? Yeah. Fine."

Then the light of his flashlight descends upon what I've been standing beside.

"Huh," he says. "It's a lynx."

"A lynx?"

I look down and we stand before an Indian mound, a slightly raised portion of earth that extends out into the trees, nearing the edge of the slope.

He squats down beside the plague that marks the mound.

"That's what this mound is of," he says. "It's a lynx. 'Indian effigy mound. Length 82 feet. Surveyed by A.S. Stout, April 29, 1905.'" He stands back up. "Pretty Cool."

Brianna suddenly has a flashlight and is shining it our way.

"You two coming?" she says, impatiently.

Blake turns to catch up with the group, but I hesitate.

"I—I don't know, Brianna," I say. "I'm not really feeling—"

"Are you sick?"

I wrap my arms around myself, feeling my body begin to shiver.

"I don't know. It might have been a better idea had we driven into Baraboo for the fireworks," I say. "The last time I—"

"Well, it's kind of late to speak up now," she says. "You should have said something about it when we were making plans an hour ago."

"I know. I just—Can I just sit this one out?"

Her eyebrows narrow, but then, Blake says, "I'll stay with her."

Brianna hesitates, frowning at the both of us.

"That's very nice of you, Blake, but I'd rather we all stick together," she says.

"Look, we'll be right behind you," he says. "We'll probably even—we'll join you later. We'll just be doing our own thing for awhile. How 'bout it?"

She takes a moment to consider.

"Come on," he says. "You can trust us."

"Hmm," she says. "Fine, but call when you're ready to meet up. You've got my number, Alison?"

"Yeah."

"Good."

She gives Blake one more look before jogging down the wooden stairway to catch up with the others.

When she's out of sight, Blake turns to me with a smile and says, "So now that we're alone, what d'you wan'na do?"

I turn back on the path, peering over at the yellow 'nature center' building on the other side of the park road.

"We can walk the road," I say. "It'll eventually take us to the beach."

"Yeah. Cool. Okay."

For much of the walk, I remain silent, my insides slowly freezing as I half-listen to Blake fill the silence with his voice. He doesn't seem to mind. And when I lead him off the road and into the now darkened picnic area, he merely rushes to my side with the flashlight.

He doesn't ask me where I'm going or why I'm wanting to wander off into the dark, but he does stop speaking. If he were to ask me, I'd probably have to tell him that I'm hiding. It's one of the many odd things I do when I'm seriously anxious, whether I'm breaking into the school's storage closet for lunch, sealing myself off in my own closet at home or placing a towel over my head. I suppose it's a variation of hiding under the sheets, finding an artificial sense of safety in the dark, confined seclusion.

I finally stop in my tracks when the lake comes up into full view, the waters a shining gray with everything around it a dark shade of black—the hills, the plants, Blake, my own body.

"Nice view," Blake says. "Shall we sit and enjoy?"

I sit but say nothing. My eyes are locked onto the lake, hypnotized by it. I lose my sense of time, my sense of self, and this offers me a strange disconnected relief.

I am no longer aware of what Blake is doing. I'm not aware of the moment Blake turns off the flashlight or the moment he scoots closer to me. I feel only a slight movement of my hair. As the gray waters become their own shade of black, with only the moonlight giving off a shining rippling effect, I am aware of warm breath on my neck.

I turn and glance at the shadowy figure beside me.

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing," Blake says, though I can hear the smile in his voice.

Then, before I have a chance to think, his hand is on my shoulder pushing me down. I feel him climb on top of me, the breath against my neck again, the rough chap lips running across my collarbone.

I try to get my bearings, to register what is happening, what I should do, but before I have a chance, Blake is hollering in my ear and pulls off of me quickly.

I sit up, rubbing my ear, and while its hard to make out detail, I can see Blake is hunched over before me, holding himself between his legs.

He spits out a curse word.

"You okay?"

"Oh, yeah, terrific," he spits out. "Oh God."

"But, I didn't—" I start.

And then I'm not sure what I see, but it looks like Blake's chin rises up in one drastic motion. There's a little lift to his body before he falls backward, landing with a soft thud.

He swears again.

"What the hell, Alison. You lead me on and then . . ." But then he's groveling forward in pain.

"I—"

And then there is a strange, hollow clicking noise coming from one of the trees behind us. It ends with one long yap.

Blake sits up, still holding his hands protectively over himself.

"What the hell is that?"

I look over in the sound's direction, but can't make anything out.

"I think it's a crow," I say.

I grab the flashlight and switch it on.

"A crow?" he says. "I've never heard a crow make that sort of sound before."

"I have."

I flash the light into the trees, and not one but two crows howl out an angry shriek.

"Okay," Blake says. "Well, I'm done here. Have fun with your crows."

And then he runs off—well, hobbles, really—leaving me alone in the dark. At least he left me the flashlight.

The birds fly off in his direction but fade into the shadow of the building where the dance is being held.

I try leaving Brianna a text message, but the signal down here is too weak. I suppose she'll just have to forgive me for not meeting up with them.