“And the trees?” asked Charles.

“The trees, obviously, are much newer than the petroglyphs,” agreed Ford. “Some of those were carved by the recent inhabitants of Wild Sign.” He held up a hand to ask for patience. “But there are older signs, carved into the forest giants long ago, perhaps as much as two hundred years.” He paused. “There was a village in that location for a brief time, though, again, my people have no other stories about them, as we do not go there.”

Tag handed the napkin to Charles, who studied it.

“That is not the only sign you will find in the rocks up there,” Ford said. “And the trees . . . I think people who want to escape civilization should know better than to carve all over the trees, don’t you? But this sign is the one my mother taught me to watch for. And her mother before her.”

“What is it that sleeps there?” Charles asked, though Anna had already asked that—and gotten the odd glyph for her trouble. Charles’s question was more carefully worded.

Ford shook his head. “We may not speak of it.” He smiled widely, and for a moment his face looked vaguely inhuman, though Anna could not point out what made her think so. “And since we have not spoken of it for generations, I do not, in truth”—he tapped a finger lightly on the rim of the bowl—“know what sleeps there.”

“Do you know about the music?” asked Anna impulsively.

He looked at her for a moment, as if she’d said something very interesting. Then he raised his hands, held together so the thumbs touched, fingers curved as if he cupped something roundish. Then he brought them up to his mouth and blew lightly, as if he was pretending to hold some sort of wind instrument, an ocarina maybe, she thought. The oldest of them were shaped to be played the way Ford was using his hands. Or, she thought, given the rune that he was imitating, something like the ancient aulos, which was a pair of double-reeded pipes played together, one in the right hand and the other in the left. Versions of the aulos had been found all over the ancient world, though not, Anna thought, in the Americas.

Ford smiled at her intent look, then he indicated the napkin Charles still held. “It is the sign, is it not? An instrument being played?” He wiggled his fingers suggestively. “Or so I have always thought.”

* * *

*

ANNA WAITED UNTIL they were out of sight of the old gas station before saying, “They didn’t have a cash register.”

“Probably because they mostly don’t use cash,” said Tag mildly.

Anna gave a snort of amusement. Served her right for beating around the bush. “Okay, so what was he? And were the woman and child the same? They weren’t fae, right? I kept thinking they might be like Mercy—descendants of the old gods. But there is a . . .” Her voice trailed away as they passed a homemade sign that read Bigfoot Country Souvenirs—10 miles above the familiar hulking shape popularized by a film clip of a faked Sasquatch sighting.

“No,” she said, glancing at Charles before she had to look at the road again. “No. You did not let me talk to Sasquatch without telling me what he was. I could have asked to see his real form.” She paused. “I could have gotten a photo on my phone and sent it to my brother for bragging rights.” Charles laughed, but Tag drew a quick, appalled breath.

“You don’t want to get on his bad side,” Tag told her. “Really.”

“How would you know that?” Anna asked, because there was a hint of a story in his voice.

“I slept with Ford’s sister once, a long time ago, and he would have ripped me to pieces except she threatened to kill him for hurting me. It was a glorious fight, though, before she intervened.” He paused and smiled softly, distracted from his point.

“You slept with”—Anna changed the ending of her sentence midway through—“Ford’s sister.”

Tag’s smile softened even further. “Breeze. She thought I was one of them, I thought she was who she said she was. We were both surprised.” He sounded amused.

If Tag hunched a little, he would bear a certain resemblance to the hulking Sasquatch on the sign.

Tag laughed, and like his voice, it was unexpectedly high-pitched. It was the kind of laugh that invited listeners to laugh along, even though the joke was on him. He shook his head, and his eyes were a little soft as he continued, “But that’s not why he helped us today. I think he was impressed that the Marrok’s son came with me.”

“And because of the bowl,” Charles said. “How did you happen to bring that?”

“Your father, after informing me I was going to be your backup on a dangerous mission along the Klamath River, where he knew I’d had plenty of adventures—and he emphasized the ‘plenty of adventures.’” Here Tag’s voice grew indignant. “How did he know about that, I ask you? I never told . . .”

When his voice trailed to a halt, Anna glanced at Tag’s face in the rearview mirror and saw him reconsidering.

“I guess I did tell Samuel about it once,” he said sheepishly. “And Asil.” He made a humming sound, and his voice was very cold when he finished, “And Sage.”

Sage had betrayed them all in a thousand small ways before she died. It would be a while before they quit flinching at just how thorough that betrayal had been.

“What is the bowl?” Anna asked to change the subject—though she really did want to know.

Charles shook his head. “I don’t know, and I’m not sure my da does, either. Something powerful that belongs here and not on my father’s bookshelf. My uncle—my mother’s brother—and Da had a rousing argument or six about the bowl. I think if he, my uncle, hadn’t died so soon, he’d have talked my da into letting him bring it back. To them.”

“So it sat on his bookcase,” Anna said.

Charles nodded and gave her a smile. “Da couldn’t bring it back. The Sasquatch avoid him. This was a good way for Da to honor my uncle and get something out of it in return.”

“He might have been a little clearer in his instructions, then,” grumbled Tag, stretching out on the backseat again. “What if I’d taken it to the Karuk tribal elders and given it to them instead? That was what I intended if I couldn’t find Breeze’s people.”

“It would have worked out,” said Charles comfortably.

“You know,” said Tag conversationally, “if I had known how much Anna mellows you out, I would have gone on a road trip with the two of you a long time ago, Charles.”

Charles growled—but they all knew he didn’t mean it.

* * *

*

ANNA THREADED THE Forest Service road like a grandmother, wincing at every scrape on the car’s paint. The road split, the right fork going to a campground with showers, lavatories, and other camping amenities. Next to that campground sign was a fire danger warning sign proclaiming extreme conditions.

In this area, at the tail end of a very hot and dry summer, the fire danger was real. There were active fires in Oregon, just over the border—which was why Charles had not considered hiking in from the Oregon side, though it might very well have been a shorter way.

They took the left fork, and seven miles of rough going later, the road ended at a second campground, this one much less friendly. They drove by several campsites to take an isolated one, far from the primitive toilets.

As soon as Charles got out of the SUV, he could tell the campground was completely empty of ecotourists. The first campground had been full of RVs and bright-colored tents, and it seemed odd this one was deserted. It was the middle of the week and the fires in Oregon might have given people some pause about camping so nearby—he could smell the smoke on the air here even more strongly than he had at Tag’s friends’ business.

He took a deep breath and smelled nothing unusual.

Tag gave him a look as Anna buried herself in the back of the SUV. “Uneasy?” he asked.

“There’s no one else here,” Charles said.

Tag nodded. “It’s isolated, and we’re at the end of camping season. From here on out, campers chance snowstorms and rain. But I’d guess it’s the warning sign we drove by on the way here.”

Charles frowned at him.

“Bear,” said Tag. “Yesterday a ranger found a bear nosing around this campground because someone tried to bury their garbage instead of hauling it out. They advise people not to camp here unless you have an RV.”

Charles snorted. “You wouldn’t get an RV in here.”

“And if you did, you might not get it out,” agreed Tag.

One mystery solved, Charles helped haul camping things out of the SUV.

“Do we need to set up the tents?” Anna asked when Tag started to pull his out. “There’s a lot of daylight left. We might even be able to reach Wild Sign before dark.”