Gleeful and giddy, squealing loudly, he ran. Fast and hard. Happy and free. But no shoes and socks along a shell-poked beach, and laughter that tore through him so hard he could barely breathe, well they conspired. He tripped. Lay there in a wheezing, gasping little heap. And when arms scooped him up, yanking him to his feet, a deep, rustic melody of a laugh joined his own.

"Gottcha now, you lil shit," Raven teased, scooping him off his feet and capturing him in a fireman's lift. "Make me, I believe your words were, right?"

Fighting against him was more amusing than it was effective, and every wriggle, every push,...