Sam didn't mind being quiet and eating. At least with Snow, not-talking wasn't Not Talking. It was just Snow being Snow. Turned out, too, that when she finally did speak up, it was on a subject he'd been pushing around in his brain.

"I don't know," Sam told her honestly, while pushing at his salad with his fork. He shrugged and lifted his gaze from his plate. "Could be he just went back where he came from. Or somewhere else like this. I'm gonna keep looking, but so far it doesn't seem like we're gonna find anything to say otherwise."