"ROSIE!" Grandpa's bellow shook the foundation of the house. "Why me?" Rose wiped the dish-soap suds from her hands with a kitchen towel, swiped the crossbow from the hook, and stomped onto the porch. "Roooosie!" She kicked the screen door open. He towered in the yard, a huge, shaggy bear of a man, deranged eyes opened wide, tangled beard caked with blood and quivering grayish shreds. She leveled the crossbow at him. Drunk as hell again. "What is it?" "I want to go to the pub. I want a pint." His voice slipped into a whine. "Gimme some money!" "No." He hissed at her, swaying unsteadily on his feet. "Rosie! This is your last chance to give me a dollar!" She sighed and shot him. The bolt bit between the eyes, and Grandpa toppled onto his back like a log. His legs drummed the ground. Rose rested the butt of her crossbow on her hip. "All right, come out." The two boys slipped from behind the huge oak spreading its branches over the yard. Both were filthy with reddish mud, sap, and the other unidentifiable substances an eight-and a ten-year-old could find in the Wood. A jagged scratch decorated Georgie's neck, and brown pine straw stuck out of his blond hair. Red welts marked the skin