River's head is bowed and her shoulders are too, her hair tumbling forward, and the smile she gives him from under that hair may be crooked and sad -- but it's real, too.

And there's grass, and blue sky, and Boukephalos cropping clover a few yards away. And there's the two of them, sitting on this rock in the sunshine. And the lake washes the shore, low and constant.

And it's okay.