The crowd moved aside as she headed straight for the red-haired boy.

What came was the red-haired boy with the knife in his throat.

A red-haired boy who was like a son to him, fifteen years from now.

The red-haired boy began to gobble and walk in a large circle.

And apparently the red-haired boy was not the least upset.

The red-haired boy stood, hands on the bar, his friends ranged behind him.

The red-haired boy saw him first and turned slowly.

The red-haired boy glanced at his friends, for the first time slightly uncertain.

The red-haired boy was walking along the beach toward them, and Mark wondered why he hadn't recognized him at once.

The red-haired boy knelt on the ground, his mother further back in the trees.