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“I’m too antsy to stuff my face. Save me some bacon. I’ll gorge later.”

Aire checked the perimeter. “These woods have secrets, and they mean to keep them. Exercise forethought and diligence. Be wary of where you tread.”

“You sound worried.”

“As any friend should be.”

“Are we friends?”

His eyes wandered back to me, uncertainty lingering there. Maybe ruefulness, too. “I would like that very much—to be your friend.”

I’d liked that, too. A lot.

Alot.

“I don’t know,” I said. “I’m picky about friends. You’d have to go through an initiation of my choosing. Can you handle it?”

That cursed smile. “You are teasing me.”

“I’m teasing you.”

Except the Aspen from a week ago wouldn’t have been. She wouldn’t have caved this fast, either. Not even for a face like his.

“Just beyond the colony, the setting is fraught with mystery, both sinister and beguiling,” Aire said. “I should accompany you.”

“Please, don’t.”

“It could be dangerous. The thought of you straying into fiendish territory—it unsettles me greatly.”

“You need to stop polishing my apple. I already said I’d be your friend.”

“Friends protect each other.”

“Save that impulse for a rainy day. I’m not going super far, only a mild hike for now. I’ll be fine. I’ve got my hatchets.”

“Which you scarcely know how to use.”

“Do not follow me, knight.”

Because really, his voice and everything. Too much right now. I needed to concentrate, to search for an answer to this fairytale, how to use the final acorn for Mother. With Aire hovering at my side, I’d achieve nothing but drool.

This forest wasn’t the only entity keeping secrets. If I didn’t have to fib about my business, his intuition would be a perfect ally against predators and perils. He knew the texture of every snuff of wind.

Nicu needed him more anyway. Aire knew as much.

He appeared to consider something, a notion that he’d been tossing around in his mind. Though I sensed him change tactics as he accused, “You didn’t know what to look for in the castle infirmary, assuming the medicines would have the proper labels to guide you. Now you traipse into the unknown yet again, without an inkling of how to divine and apprehend this presumed remedy. Autumn’s wild isn’t a dispensary. By what means do you plan to find a cure?”

“I’m living on the edge.”

He summed up, “You keep stock in faith.”

I corrected, “I keep faith in Autumn.”

***

For starters, it didn’t hurt to nose around the bungalows. The lumberjack from the fairytale used to live here, so it made sense to investigate that house first.

One problem. The tale happened eons ago, and through subtle inquiries, I’d learned from Lyrik—who knew loads about the history—that the bungalow no longer existed. Sometime after the logger’s death, a fire had taken a portion of the homes.