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she wrapped him in an extra woolen shirt and tied a fur-covered skin across his back and shoulders, and they were off. Thomas could not contain his joy. He was leaving with his mother, who often scared him into tears, but whom he loved dearly.
    As they wended through the town gate and off beyond the fields, the sun was already low, and the shadows were long. The ground was patched with snow where the trees were thickest, and the brooks and pools of water had the thin white skins of ice Thomas loved to shatter.
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Anna never believed the rest of the story that Aunt Agnes told when only she and Gray returned that evening. Agnes said they found little to collect in the woods, but of course the season was late. Her basket was light, filled mostly with the twigs and pebbles and useless rubble Thomas had gathered. Still, the weather was clear and fine, and the boy seemed pleased. By midafternoon she sat him down for a rest and a small biscuit before they were to head back. As they finished eating, she said she noticed that Thomas had something clenched in his small fist. When Agnes grabbed his hand, he struggled and broke free. And then she saw two loose and very poisonous mushrooms next to where he had been sitting.
    She feared he still had more. She chased him, yelling at him not to eat them, trying to grab them back. He, half laughing at this game of chase and half terrified that she was once again angry, scampered off.
    When Agnes returned home, it was dark. She was dirty, and her knee was bleeding. Karl covered her with a bear-skin and blankets and placed her near the fire, rubbing her hands and trying to calm her shivers. Her gulping, broken, sob-filled story stunned the family.
    â€œI was running after Thomas, yelling at him to stop. He just kept going. The child is so clumsy, and yet he can be fast.” Agnes looked to Karl who nodded. She continued, “The light was dim, and I was watching only him, and I fell. There must have been a log or a root, or something, and I fell to the ground, and though I cried out in pain, he never looked back. I tried to get up, but I was light-headed, and at first my foot wouldn’t bear my weight, and the pain— the pain was—I was crying, thinking I might never get up, and there was Gray who knew I was hurt. Licking my tears. A stupid dog knew more than the boy.”
    Agnes coughed, and Karl handed her a mug of ale that she sipped. She wet her lips several times, watching Karl. He looked dazed. Agnes continued.
    â€œ ‘Go find the boy! ’ I yelled, but Gray stayed by me. Finally I found that I could stand and limp, but by then I had lost all sight of Thomas. I yelled. I screamed. I could feel the wetness of my own blood on my leg. Gray and I stumbled about looking for any sign of his path. I called. I prayed he would come to my voice. The pain in my foot was nothing to my heart’s pain. But the light was fading, so I headed home for help. I could hardly walk myself. He is lost. Dear Lord, help us, the boy is lost.”
    By then, it was altogether night with only the sliver of a moon and no hope of finding the child in the dark forest, nor much hope that his little body would survive the cold or worse in the night. Anna pleaded with everyone to go and search, but it was too dark and too dangerous. So she prayed that he had crawled into a hole or under a log and burrowed in for safety and warmth, or that some kind soul had found him and would care for him.
    Who but a wolf (or worse) would be in the woods at night? And what would a stranger do with a child unable to say his name? thought Anna.
    No night had ever been so long. Before daybreak they were all in the woods, searching the whole day and the next as well. Friends joined. No trace of Thomas was found. Lukas and Anna would not give up. They searched day after day, eventually only hoping to find the little boy’s body for burial.
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Lukas sat on a stool by Anna’s hearth, staring