"It's okay. I get it." Will looked up too. Was it helpful to tell her that he and his family of outlaws had been running from the Sheriff and the law in one form or another for their entire existence, always looking over their shoulders? The Sheriff might not be able to blind them with his presence, but he would never ever let up. And how much Will had missed the peace of nature and trees when he sat locked in a prison cell and counted the minutes to freedom?
"I love the stars too," he said instead, slipping his hands into his pockets. They all had their own journeys, and neither of theirs was any less relevant.