He glances back behind him, to where Hawk's still buried under his Featherman quilt; his face shadows. "I didn't have a choice, did I? Not with one of us so young. Anyway, I had business with Crow."

But his hand's still on Raven's. He long ago stopped wondering what it would have been like to have siblings—around middle school age, in fact. But would it have been like this?

... ridiculous thought that that is. Again, he glances down at his lap.