"What do you mean, 'carried off'?" Natalie said. She folded her slice in half to keep the toppings from spilling. "Someone is stalking my brothers," Alan said. "Someone very strong and very cunning. Three are gone that I know about. There are others, but I could be next." "Stalking?" Natalie said. "My family is a little strange," Alan said. "I grew up in the north country, and things are different there. You've heard of blood feuds?" Natalie and Link exchanged a significant look. "I know it sounds ridiculous. You don't need to be involved. I just wanted to let you know why I acted so strangely last night." "We have to get back," Natalie said. "Nice to meet you, Kurt. I hope you find your brother, Andy." "Brothers," Alan said. "Brothers," Natalie said, and walked away briskly. # Alan was the oldest of the brothers, and that meant that he was the one who blazed all the new trails in the family. He met a girl in the seventh grade. Her name was Marci, and she had just transferred in from Scotland. Her father was a mining engineer, and she'd led a gypsy life that put her in stark contrast to the third-generation homebodies that made up most of the rest of their class. She had red hair and blue eyes and a way of holding her face in repose that made her look cunning at all times. No one understood her accent, but there was a wiry ferocity in her movement that warned off any kid who thought about teasing her about it. Alan liked to play in a marshy corner of the woods that bordered the playground after school, crawling around in the weeds, catching toads and letting them go again, spying on the crickets and the secret lives of the larvae that grubbed in the milkweed. He was hunkered down on his haunches one afternoon when Marci came crunching through the tall grass. He ducked down lower, then peered out from his hiding spot as she crouched down and he heard the unmistakable patter of urine as she peed in the rushes. His jaw dropped. He'd never seen a girl pee before, had no idea what the squatting business was all about. The wet ground sucked at his sneaker and he tipped back on his ass with a yelp. Marci straightened abruptly and crashed over to him, kicking him hard in the ribs when she reached him, leaving a muddy toeprint on his fall windbreaker. She wound up for another kick and he hollered something wordless and scurried back, smearing marsh mud across his jeans and jacket. "You pervert!" she said, pronouncing it Yuh peervurrt! "I am not!" he said, still scooting back. "Watching from the bushes!" she said. "I wasn't -- I was already here, and you -- I mean, what were *you* doing? I was just minding my own business and you came by, I just didn't want to be bothered, this is *my* place!" "You don't own it," she said, but she sounded slightly chastened. "Don't tell anyone I had a piss here, all right?" "I won't," he said.