And his heart never stuttered. But he lied. Because he was pack. They were faint, the threads that stretched from him toward us, and just as we began to pull on them, just as we began to tug them, to sing to him, to remind him where he belonged, Gavin broke them. Carter sounded as if he’d been punched, bending over and gagging. The others were distracted. They didn’t see what I saw. The look on Gavin’s face, brief though it was. It was heartbreak, real and devastating. And then it was gone.
