Wynn had spent too much of her life alone.
He could hear her voice in his head, hear the words she had said to him when all hope was lost: Believing is easy. Making fires is hard, and you can do that.
He needed to believe in her. But she couldn’t even start a fire on her own.
No. That wasn’t true. She had started a fire on her own when she needed to save his life. She wasn’t helpless. He had to trust in her abilities.
Why was that so difficult to do? He knew why. No matter how brave, bright, and loyal Wynn was, the world held dangers for her that no one else seemed to have to face. He thought they would escape those dangers when they passed through the Silver Gate. But the dangers didn’t go away. They just changed.
He leaned against the wall, then slid to the floor, hugging his legs as he cried. Each sob felt as if it had to be pulled from him. His heart was broken.
Wynn was gone. His sister. His funny, sunny, irritating, and loving sister was gone.
“I’m sorry, Wynn. I promised I would come back for you,” he whispered into the shelter of his own curled body.
Elric didn’t know how long he sat against the door. It didn’t matter. Every minute wasted was another moment where he had to accept the reality that Wynn wouldn’t survive.
CHAPTER ELEVENWynn
WYNN DIDN’T WANT TO LIVE in this wood forever. It wasn’t a nice place to be, or pretty, or warm, or comfortable. There were dangerous creatures here. She missed the fairies. She missed the Fairy Queen. And if she stayed here forever, she would never see her brother again. She missed him most of all.
“I don’t want to live here,” Wynn said, crossing her arms. “Elric will come find me.”
“Who is Elric?” the smoke-and-shadow girl asked.
“Elric is a prince,” Wynn answered. Prince sounded more important than brother. “He is very brave.”
The girl scratched her tigereon under her chin. “We’ll see. It’s easy to be brave when you live behind a wall.” The girl rubbed her thumb along a groove in her staff. “The fairies save only themselves. It’s what they have done for ages.”
Wynn didn’t think that was right. The queen saved her from the snow. She used magic to help Wynn find the Silver Gate. But now she wasn’t sure what to think. Something else was bothering her.
“How old are you?” Wynn asked. The girl knew old things. She looked the same age as Elric, but some fairies were very old and they still looked young, like Zephyr.
The girl shrugged. “Don’t know. Does it matter?”
“What is your name?” Wynn asked.
The girl tilted her staff against her shoulder and crossed her arms over it. “That doesn’t matter either.”
“What is your name?” Wynn repeated. Names were very important.
“I don’t know!” she shouted. “No one ever gave me one.” She looked down and to the side, peering at the dark corner of the room. “The elves have a name for me, but I don’t like it.”
“What does she call you?” Wynn asked, pointing at Shadow.
The girl stared at Wynn. She squinted, then stroked the beast behind her. “Shadow? She calls me ‘cub,’ ‘wee one,’ ‘little thing,’ ‘stripeless,’ ‘two-legs’ . . . actually I’m not that fond of those last two.” The girl stroked the side of the cat’s face. “She found me in the wood and helped me survive for as long as I can remember. She is my only friend.”
Shadow closed her eyes and her cheeks relaxed into a contented smile. Her pale stripes shimmered with shifting colors as she let the girl pet her. “She’s very beautiful,” Wynn said.
The girl smiled. “Yes, she is. The fur here beneath her ears is so soft, it is hard to tell you are really touching it.” The girl slid her spread fingers into the deep fur behind Shadow’s ears. They completely disappeared in the thick color-shifting fur.
The girl leaned over and let her head rest on Shadow’s strong shoulder. “And when you press your ear to her side, she growls a low, soothing sound that can reach you in your bones.” She took in a deep breath, then lifted her head and continued. “Shadow told me that in the days when there were more tigereons like her, the rumble of their growls filled the wood and helped other creatures sleep peacefully through the night.”
The girl crawled over the beast and tucked herself into the shelter of the larger animal’s body. “When it is cold, she wraps around you, warm and strong. You know you can sleep and be safe. She is very beautiful.”
Wynn didn’t think about it like that. She just liked the creature’s pretty colors. She lifted her hen from her lap. “Mildred is beautiful too.”
The girl smiled. “What is she?”
“She’s a chicken,” Wynn stated as she pushed her chest forward with pride. Mildred didn’t change colors, but she was warm and soft, too.
“You said that before. What is a chicken?” the girl asked.
Wynn wasn’t sure how to answer that. “A bird?”
“She’s a bird?” The girl sat straight up. Her expression completely changed. She looked like Elric used to when Mother said she had baked fresh bread. “Can I touch her?”
Wynn lifted Mildred and scooted forward over the stone floor. “Here.” Mildred squawked and kicked her legs in protest. She managed to pull her wings out of Wynn’s hold and flap them.
The girl let out a delighted noise. She reached forward and touched the feathers near Mildred’s neck.
After one touch, she pulled her hand back. Then she reached forward again and moved her hands all over Mildred’s body. Mildred decided she liked the petting, and stopped flapping. “She’s smooth, but soft, and this isn’t like fur. It’s springy,” the girl said. “I’ve heard birds in the canopy, Shadow told me what they were, but I’ve never touched one. What strange creatures they are. And how is it that they can fly? Is it magic?”
“Mildred can’t fly. She’s
