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Noro, pinned to the ground beneath the bird’s left leg, somehow managed to look offended even with his face smashed against the grass.

“Stick head?” he huffed, his voice rumpled.

“Seen you, soldier boy.” The bird swiveled around to Bartos, who lay pinned under its right wing.

Bartos gulped, his sweaty dark hair plastered to his forehead. “I’m sorry, er, you... bird. We didn’t mean to intrude—”

“Seen you, girlie girl.” The bird thrust out its neck to consider Thorn closely, then looked at Zaf.

“You are new?” it rasped. When it opened its beak, fetid airblasted Thorn in the face. The smell reminded her of the worm that had crawled across her lip in Estar.

“New?” Zaf laughed nervously. Her skin had regained some of its luster, Thorn was glad to see. “Well, that depends. Do you like new things?”

The bird’s head bobbed up and down. “Two more than one. Two for six is one third each, more than one sixth each.”

“What is it talking about?” whispered Zaf.

Thorn began inching away from the bird. “If it’s all right with you, we’ll just... be on our way.”

Something massive crashed into the ground behind her.

She whirled, taking Zaf with her.

Another gargantuan bird squatted there, leering at them. This one’s feathers were blue-green with brown spots, like a jay’s egg.

Tree branches swayed overhead.

Thorn looked up... and up, and up.

All around them, high in the leafless trees, were at least a dozen mammoth birds, silhouetted by the stars.

“Oh, storms save us,” Bartos whispered from beneath the first bird’s wing. He struggled to get loose, but doing so turned his face green. “Whatisthis place?”

“Star Lands,” said the first bird, sounding almost cheerful. “Where go?”

The Star Lands.

Thorn’s arms tingled. Zaf had really done it, then.

Thorn scanned the forest and saw several paths snaking off through the trees. But the birds would catch them as soon as they tried to run.

Unless Noro got free of the bird, and they all jumped on his back, and he sped away faster than he’d ever run before.

She needed to stall.

“We search for the witch named Quicksilver,” she blurted.

Noro hissed, “Thorn, no!”

“Ah!” The bird slapped its wings against the ground. The others, high up in the trees, thumped their branches. “Foxheart’s the thing.”

Zaf blew out sharp air. “No, you dum-dum.Quicksilver.”

“Maybe don’t call the giant scary bird a dum-dum,” Thorn muttered.

“Quicksilver,” said the bird, scooting forward. As it moved, it dragged Noro and Bartos along with it. “Foxheart. Same one, same the other.”

“Quicksilver Foxheart,” the birds overhead whispered. “Quicksilver Foxheart.”