Ezra glanced in the direction she indicated, stomach sinking. The rows of trees seemed to stretch on forever without any break. Surely they hadn't walked that far? It seemed an insurmountable distance with a tiny child in tow. It was certainly too far to be of use to him. Even if he sprinted, getting all the way down and then all the way back was more than enough time for the boy to have disappeared entirely. Why had he run off? Was he trying to get away from Ezra, and if so to what end? There clearly couldn't be any grander plan at work here; he was hardly old enough to have coherent thoughts, much less schemes, and living in the Christmas trees for the rest of his life was not a sustainable arrangement. But Ezra wasn't sure if the boy wanted to be lost; he might not come if Ezra called for him. He certainly hadn't seemed to react to Ezra telling him to wait.

"No," he told the young woman. He meant no, no one you can call, but didn't actually specify which of her questions he was answering. He got to his knees and ducked his head under the bottom boughs of the nearest tree, squinting through the brush and looking for feet.

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