Heidel knelt in front of me, but I felt someone else’s hand pressed between my shoulder blades, rubbing small circles. The warmth of the motion seeped through my back and into my lungs, gently coaxing me to breathe.
“Slow down. Breathe,” he said again.
I realized I was breathing too fast, so I steadied my inhalations and exhalations.
Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in…
Despite the chill in the air, sweat beaded on my neck and forehead.
Finally, I managed to make my voice work. “What… what happened?”
“I am not sure,” Heidel said. “You passed out after creating the magic.”
I took in a few more breaths, realizing how grateful I was for the ability to breathe. When I felt ready, I slowly sat up.
Kull moved his hand away from my back, stood abruptly, and walked toward the fire.
For a split second, right after I’d woken, I’d forgotten we weren’t together anymore. It must have been because he’d felt so familiar—the warmth and strength of his hands had felt as though they should have been there. Now that he’d moved away, I felt emptier than I’d ever felt before. The feeling went beyond an emotional pain—it was enough to sicken my stomach.
Slowly, I sat up, noting my back was still warm where he’d touched me.
“You’re very pale,” Heidel said. “You do not look well.”
“I’ll be all right, although my magic is becoming more unstable. I fear I may not be able to use it at all in the future.”
“Let’s hope that’s not the case. We’ve been traveling all day, and the strange situation with your magic has taken its toll on you. Do you think you can make it to the fire? I shall prepare a bowl of soup for you.”
“Yes. I’ll manage.”
I looked toward the fire and found Kull standing beside it with his arms crossed, the flames’ glow radiating off his face and chest. He stared with a brooding expression and didn’t speak as I limped over and sat on the log near the fire.
Heidel ladled out three bowls of soup. As she passed the bowls around, Kull finally backed away from the fire and sat on the edge of the log, with Heidel sitting between us.
“We must tell Eugrid to add more salt,” Heidel said after taking a sip of the soup. “This is blander than the last batch she made.”
“It’s sufficient,” Kull answered. Emerald streamers of fire combined with the orange, and it was then that I realized Kull had added elder tree bark to the woodpile. The small pieces of bark glowed green in the fire.
“I will place the bark inside the tree once we’re inside,” Kull said. “It should help keep us warm.”
“Won’t it burn the tree?” I asked.
“No, the bark has properties more similar to metal than to wood. It should be quite safe.”
“I wager we shall be impenetrable,” Heidel said. “I doubt even the most savage beast could break through as Olive has warded the door so well.”
“Yes,” Kull laughed, “we’re very fortunate to have her with us.”
An uneasy silence settled over our camp. Far in the distance came the lonely hooting of a night bird. A log split in half, snapping and spraying bright orange embers into the air.
“I don’t understand what’s happening to my magic,” I said, mostly to break up the silence. “I suspect it might be related to what’s happening to the Arrubicus stones, but I don’t know for sure.”
“Does your stepfather know?” Heidel asked.
“He suspects I’m having trouble balancing my two magics, but I think there’s more to it. Hopefully, we’ll know more once we find out what’s happened to the stones.”
“I can’t be of much help to you,” Heidel said. “I have little experience with magic.”
“I believe it would be wise if you stopped using your magic,” Kull said. “That is, until you know what’s causing its strange behavior.”
“I agree. But there’s also the possibility there’s nothing wrong with it and I’m at fault. If that’s the case, then I may not be using magic for a very long time.”
“With practice,” Kull said, “perhaps you’ll learn to control it.”
“Yes, let’s hope so.”
I sipped my soup, letting it warm me and clear my head. What if I was never able to use my magic again? What would I do without it? Those few short weeks I’d been without it last winter had been some of the hardest in my life. What if it was to be that way forever? I would lose my ability to cross worlds.
Setting my empty bowl aside, I stretched my hands toward the fire. I had a habit of worrying too much. Chances were my magical issues would be resolved sooner than I expected, and then I would have spent all my time worrying over nothing.
Kull stood and rinsed our bowls and tin pot away from camp, then dried them and returned them to the pack. Heidel and I prepared our sleeping arrangements, which consisted of a few blankets spread on the ground inside the tree.
Inside, the tree looked larger than I’d thought. The bark and trunk had patches of transparent layers, and from the inside they glowed orange where the campfire’s light radiated through. Kull used a pair of sticks in a tong-like fashion to place the green-glowing strips of bark throughout the space.
After we’d moved all our belongings inside the tent, I pulled the makeshift door closed, feeling as if I were sealing us away from the rest of the world.
The two Wults fell asleep quickly, though I supposed they’d had experience sleeping outdoors. I watched the flickers of green light glow against the tree’s canopy. My mind didn’t want to shut down. Instead, I kept replaying the earlier conversation I’d had with Heidel.
He didn’t mistreat you?
Finally, I must have drifted off, because the sound of rustling leaves woke me. The green glow of the elder tree bark had dimmed, making it darker than it had been
