“What if I am?” he said in a very even, measured tone. “I can count on one hand how many times I've witnessed you do it. No one's going to believe me when we get back to camp. He did smile then, slow and rueful, head turned away as he toyed with his fork. “They'll believe you, Little Osha. They've all seen me smile plenty.” “Just not recently?” I whispered. “No. Not recently. Smiling has been pretty hard of late.” His Adam's apple bobbed. “It is getting easier, though.”
