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Quicksilver and Ari bowed their heads, accepting their medallions.

“We are honored by your friendship,” said Quicksilver, “and have already sent word to the Star Lands about the work yet tocome. I will bring my students and friends here, and we will all help you in your efforts to free the trapped stormwitches and heal the Vale.”

The queen turned last of all to Thorn and placed the medallion around her neck.

“Thorn Skystone,” said Queen Orelia quietly. “I have few words for what you have done for me, and for all of us. What you did for my sister in her last hours.”

Thorn would never forget those hours. The pain of them lodged in her chest, a splinter she could not remove.

But as Thorn stood before her new queen, she realized that particular pain was one her heart was strong enough to bear.

And if, some days, she had to sit in her room and remember everything that happened, and cry?

Then maybe that was all right.

Just as Brier had said, that was its own kind of courage.

“In thanks,” said the queen, “I offer you a position as adviser to the queen. Together you and I, and Lord Dellier, and anyone else we bring to our council, will decide what comes next. We have much work ahead of us, Thorn. The Vale must be remade. Will you help me remake it?”

Thorn’s heart pounded so hard and fast that she couldn’tmove. Then Brier tugged gently on her left hand. Zaf’s thumb brushed the knuckles of her right. Mazby butted his head softly against her shoulder, and Noro blew out sweet, cool air on the back of her neck.

Thorn bowed her head. “I will, Your Majesty.”

She turned to face her friends and family and neighbors, and made herself watch as they rose to their feet and applauded.

“How long do we have to stand here?” Brier muttered out of the corner of her mouth.

With a snort, Zaf’s laugh erupted.

It was one of the sweetest sounds Thorn had ever heard.

Cub was too big to fit inside even a building as large as Castle Stratiara.

This was fine with him. He had no desire to squish himself into tiny human hallways and through tiny human doors. What if he got stuck? He would have to lie there while they chipped away the pretty white stone. He would have to hide his face in his paws and not look anyone in the eye ever again.

Cub found that he quite liked looking people in the eye.

So much light, here in the up-above world! So many people and trees and mountains to see!

Ah, mountains. Cub liked them best of all. They were even bigger than he was. When he snuggled down between them and closed his eyes, he could pretend their grassy foothills were his mothers.

That was where he was when Thorn and Zaf found him—lying on his back between two great gray peaks, his soft furry belly exposed. He chewed on stalks of glossy green grass.

Thorn and Zaf weren’t the only ones to visit Cub. In fact, Cub was hardly ever alone. The stormwitch children helped cut Cub’s hair and claws when they got too long. People from the city brought baskets of flowers and grass and muffins—which Cub had discovered were his favorite human food—and Cub nibbled the stuff from their hands, which tickled so much that even the old men giggled.

But Thorn and Zaf were Cub’s favorites.

“Hi, Cub!” Zaf climbed up Cub’s arm and sprawled across his belly. “We brought you a present. Thorn made it, but I helped. I told her what colors to use. Well, some colors. But they were important ones!”

Thorn nestled into the grass beside Cub’s left eye. She kissed his shaggy eyebrow, then sat beside him with her back against his cheek.

In Thorn’s palm, she held a tiny figurine. It was made of wire and tin, painted with so many shades of brown and gray that Cub felt dizzy looking at it. Its eyes were two shiny black buttons. Its claws were shiny black beads. Tiny yellow flowers and tiny green clovers covered its head and back and paws.

Cub tilted his head against the grass. “Cub?”

Thorn beamed at him. “Yes. It’s you.”

“Isn’t she talented, Cub?” said Zaf. “I told her she should open a shop someday. Don’t you think she should?”

Cub wasn’t entirely sure what opening a shop entailed, but he nevertheless said gravely, “Yes, I do. You should make more, Thorn.”

Thorn set the figurine on a nearby rock for display.

The longer Cub stared at his miniature self, the more delighted he became. A tiny Cub! He would take it with him wherever he roamed. He would show it every mountain peak he could find, every river, every downy meadow of the Vale.

“Home,” he rumbled happily, gazing at the figurine and the mountains beyond it, and the sky too. Past the gray veil of clouds shimmered an evening of violet and gold. How Cub had missed the ache of colors.

“Home,” Thorn agreed. Her voice sounded tired, but in agood way. A way that Cub liked. It was a high climb to his bed, but she had made the climb nevertheless.

So he gently scooped Thorn close with his paw, and with her head resting against his fur, and Zaf curled up on the mound of his belly, they watched the sky for stars, and for tomorrow.