There’s nothing in the lake, Magdalen.
There is, Joel—I can feel it.
You can see all the way to the bottom. There’s nothing there.
I’m not seeing anything, says the girl.
The water is a breathing silence, its darkness a body. And all around the quiet earth, the listening stones. Above, the dome of night is stuck with pinpoint stars.
She is very still, his sister. Her stillness frightens him. But he says nothing. He waits, while the present and the past and the future mingle in the breathing silence, the breathing water.
I can feel it, she says again.
And her body shifts in the dark…