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“Zaf?” Thorn cradled Zaf’s hand against her cheek. The bright world shimmered past her tears. “Zaf, say something,please.”

“Unicorn!” a high voice called out from down the road.

And the voice sounded... frightened.

Thorn squinted through the dazzling light, despite how awfully it made her head hurt. A clutch of small figures—children?—stood at a curve in the road, near the shoreline. Vibrant shapes in canary yellow, emerald green, sapphire blue flitted about the children’s heads. First the colored shapes were the size of sparrows, and then they ballooned larger, big as eagles. They spiraled down to land on the ground and galloped along the road toward Thorn, ears pricked and tails low, like cats on the prowl.

Thorn’s head spun. How could animals change forms like that?

“It’s a unicorn!” called out one of the children. “Quicksilver, hurry!”

Quicksilver?

Thorn whirled around and saw two blurry shapes hurrying toward them. One was a little taller than Thorn. The other was short, and dark, and... barking.

A dog?

“It’s all right!” cried the taller shape, its voice clear and strong. “Stand down, witches! This unicorn is not our enemy.”

Noro blew out an indignant, unbecoming, horsey puff of air. “Are other unicorns your enemy?”

“The shadow-struck unicorn, remember?” Thorn said. “It said they came to the Star Lands to hide.” Then she shielded hereyes and called out, “Please, don’t hurt us! We’re lost, and my friends are hurt!”

“I’ve no intention of hurting you.” Suddenly the shape came into focus: a pale young woman, a few years older than Thorn, with a long braid of brilliant red hair streaked with silver, wearing a patchwork coat of a hundred colors that fell past her knees. When she knelt at Thorn’s side, her face was kind, but curious.

“What’s your name, child?” the young woman asked.

“I’m Thorn Skystone of the Vale,” Thorn replied, trying not to think about how cold Zaf’s hand felt, “and I seek the witch named Quicksilver Foxheart.”

The woman’s eyebrows shot up. “Well, Thorn of the Vale, it’s a lucky day for you, and a thoroughly strange one for me. I’m Quicksilver Foxheart, and you and your friends dropped right into the middle of my class, which—”

Thorn let out a small cry. Her relief was so great it nearly knocked her flat. This woman didn’t look like an evil witch who would want to help the Gulgot destroy the Vale. She looked kind, and clever, and had a brave, warm face that made Thorn think of her mother.

Forgetting she was in a land so far from home and so strangethat she couldn’t even properly open her eyes to look at it, Thorn launched herself into Quicksilver’s arms and held on tight.

“Can you help my friends?” Thorn whispered. Something warm and wet licked her hand. She cracked open her eyes and saw an enormous shaggy black dog with white paws panting happily at her.

“I can’t,” said Quicksilver, plucking grass from Thorn’s hair, “but worry not. I know someone who can.”

.23.

The Mountain Children

When Brier awoke, she was lying in the middle of a grassy, snow-dusted clearing. Above her rose cloud-covered mountains.

And surrounding Brier were four unicorns, their horns—each crackling softly with lightning—aimed right at her heart.

Brier’s mouth dried.

These werewildunicorns, not like Noro at all. They were unbound. Free, and dangerous. Their stormy eyes held neither kindness nor warmth.

The pale white-haired boy with the mean grin crouched beside Brier, smiling smugly.

“Good morning, Thorn Skystone,” he said. “I do hope you’re feeling better.”

Brier opened her mouth to reply that, no, she wasn’t feeling better, and where was Mazby, and she didn’t appreciate being surrounded like this. Didn’t they know she was Brier Skystone, the most valued harvester in Westlin?

But then she realized, with a jolt of shock, that shewasfeeling better.