The High Sierra moon lights up Jeff’s tent, so he gets up to watch it rising over Cahoon Meadow and finds Lazarus, raised once again, sitting on a log already watching the shadows stretch across the field at night. Jeff’s skin’s been peeling all day, and now he sits next to Lazarus and starts tugging at the ends of pieces.
“Let me help you with that,” Lazarus says, and pulls off a bit that’s begun to feel like damp wool. Soon, the entire layer is gone, and Jeff is completely new. He’d do a two step in the moonlight, but the wind already has the trees dancing for him.
