She leads Amelia around to the other side of the cabin, where there is another patch of sleeping and a pair of beehives. They're silent, no sign of bees buzzing about or crowding against the entrance, as they do in the summer. "There they are. I'd lift up a comb to show you, but I don't like bothering them unless I have to."

Much like moody boyfriends, apparently, because when Amelia expresses concern, she casts a furtive glance behind her, as if worried that Caspar will overhear. She's clearly noticed the change, too.

"He's been a little down since New Year's," she says quietly. "I think this time of year reminds him of the War. He doesn't sleep as much as me, you know, that's a lot of time to spend awake in the dark..."

That's her best guess, anyway. He hasn't told her if something specific has been eating at him. And sometimes he's so good at pretending nothing is the matter that she wonders if she isn't imagining things.