Moontouched

Mickey studied Samuel and Zeke. There was something moon-touched about them. Everybody said so. They'd said so all along, though Mickey had never seen it.
But maybe he was seeing it now.
Zeke, his eyes not having left the book he held, was smiling to himself. Samuel had stood up, and when his mother had come in, he'd stood beside her. He still held the knife. Holding it in one hand he jabbed the point of the blade into the other palm. Occasionally it drew blood, which he wiped away with his fingers. His smile, like Zeke's, never faltered.