So they headed for the other plot. Cern said, "It's that way," without hesitation, and started off.

His little head gesture to indicate the direction became for Dema a toss of his antlers, a sight she was becoming accustomed too in the forest dream. She thought she would almost be sorry to lose the illusion when they left the forest and she let the dream go. They fit him somehow. She might have to keep a little corner of the dream going, just for that. For now, she was happy to follow him again. The antlers passed through tree limbs and other obstacles like the illusion they were, but Dema noticed that lighter twigs and leaves fluttered slightly when the antlers brushed by. The forest felt the illusion, just as she did.

About twenty minutes into this second leg of their hike through the woods, Cern came to a stream. He hesitated, not sure about how to get Dema across it, trying to sense if there was an easier ford upstream or down.

Dema came up to him, pointed across and said, "The trail's this way." Then she skipped over it lightly, using a couple of just submerged boulders as stepping stones, and disappeared into the trees on the other side.

Cern shook his head and smiled to himself as he followed her. He was happy to let her lead as long as she kept going the right way, and she did, moving silently, choosing the next all but invisible deer trail that led their way.

Watching Dema move through the woods woke something inside Cern that he didn't know was sleeping. He had always felt that the forested places were uniquely part of him, something that belonged to him alone. Or he belonged to it. But now for the first time he was with someone who seemed to belong here just as much as he did.

"The greenest woods be thy domain," he quoted softly.

Dema heard him, and stopped.

"What did you just say?"

"The greenest woods be thy domain. It's a line from Keats. It just popped into my head. It seemed to fit you."

Dema was staring at him. "How do you mean?"

"The way you move so easily through the woods, I was thinking it's as though you belong here, and that's the way I feel."

"But the poem..."

"Lycius says it when he first meets Lamia. She's being coy, pretending she might leave him, and he's begging her to stay. It goes, 'Stay! though a Naiad of the rivers, stay! To thy far wishes will thy streams obey: Stay! though the greenest woods be thy domain, Alone they can drink up the morning rain.' It's been a favorite of mine for years. To tell the truth, I don't even know why I like it, except maybe for that one part, and some of the description of the forest in the beginning when she is still a snake." He walked on, satisfied that he had answered Dema's question.

Now Dema had something to think about, and she let Cern take the lead again. He couldn't possibly know. And he said it had been a favorite of his for years. He doesn't even know why. Besides, he was pretty wide open to her in the forest dream, and he didn't seem to be hiding anything. She wondered if this had any connection with his shaman heritage. The poem probably stimulates the deep forest sense in him, she thought, and just like he said, watching her walk in the woods brought that line back to him. But it was an eerie coincidence.

She was still mulling this over when they arrived at the second plot. This time they had better luck. There was a very rough but obvious campsite. In the brush behind a fallen log that had been used as a seat, Dema found a weather-beaten magazine. And the magazine had a mailing label on it.

"Cern, look at this! Someone left a copy of Wired magazine behind." She looked at it closely. "The mailing label is pretty faded, but it says John Andrews, something Foster Street in Willard."

"Willard, that's not far from here." He picked up the magazine. "Wired. Not something I'd expect a farm boy to be reading. Or a pothead either."

Dema had her cell phone out and was calling in to get the name checked.

Cern said, "Come look at this." She walked over to where he was pointing out some tire tracks. Dema used the cell phone to take pictures of the tracks where the tread pattern was clear. The track spacing was about right for a four wheel ATV. At one point the track had run over some plants at the edge of the plot. The ground had been tilled and was still soft there, so the tracks were deeper. She took more pictures, then got some small plastic bags out of her pack and gathered samples of the dirt and the marijuana plant. She put the sample bags in her pack, along with the magazine.

Then she called her office again to see if the name had been checked out. It had. They confirmed the address, and said he was a known drug suspect, linked to a variety of small-time connections. Nothing very serious, but definitely a person of interest.

When she relayed this to Cern he said, "This could be all I need. I'll bet Andrews works for Estes. And that will prove the plots aren't linked to Miller."