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No, it would not feel good to, later, see Thorn. Thorn loved Zaf. That was plain to Cub. His mothers had taught him about love, and his time in the Break hadn’t taken thatfrom him. If Thorn loved Zaf, then Thorn might also love all witches. She would not appreciate Cub having stomped them.

In Cub’s mind, he saw Thorn, standing tiny and quiet far below his snout, looking up at him with his yellow flower cradled in her palms.

“Why, Cub?” she would ask. “Why did you do it?”

Revenge,suggested the else-hand.Hurt, and power, and because you can.

Cub imagined giving Thorn that answer, and even the thought felt wrong in his mind.

“No,” he rumbled, in response to the else-hand’s hissed words.

Brier and Ford jumped, then turned around to stare.

Ducking his head to meet their eyes, Cub explained patiently, “Witches are not for stomping.”

Cub waited for the else-hand to get angry. His body tensed, expecting to be choked and punched, expecting his breath to be stolen from him.

But instead Cub felt the sudden urge to sigh.

So sigh he did, long and slow, like settling down to sleep in the soft meadows of the old Vale, his mothers besidehim. The feeling melted him. He laid down, grumbling contentedly to himself. His snout nudged Brier’s back. She patted his fur, her hand as light and small as a snowflake’s kiss.

By the time Cub had blown all the breath out of his body, the else-hand was gone.

Queen Celestyna Hightower was no longer Queen Celestyna Hightower.

That name was attached to a body, and the body lay in a soft silver bed, in a high white castle, in a city rooted to the ground by brick and old stone.

The thing that left the city of Aeria to drift down the Westlin cliffs and search the Break was not wind, though it moved like a spring breeze.

It was not sad, though it mostly remembered what sadness was, and it was not lonely, though it could sense the loneliness choking the Break like smoke.

This living wind was less than the queen had once been, and it was also more.

The longer it flew and spun and searched, it discovered, happily, that it was not alone in the dark and empty Break.

A strange, familiar voice whispered to it:welcome.

And then,Here you are.

And finally,Here you will be, always.

The wind that was not wind moved swiftly through the Break, listening to the whispers of this strange voice. The not-wind felt a tiny faded warmth living in the darkness like a fallen star, and followed its trail.

First the wind found a beast, and ruffled its matted fur.

Then the wind found a father, and kissed his worried brow.

Next the wind found a sister, and soothed her troubled heart.

Last of all, the wind found a witch, lying still and cool in the arms of a girl she had once hated.

The not-wind sighed gently into the witch’s mouth and nose and through her frozen lungs.

Welcome back,it said, trembling.

Here you are again.

And here you will be, for a very long time.