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Not a single ghost bothers us on the way home.

In their absence, the rhythm of the woods returns, like new spring buds after the last of the winter frost. Birds softly trill, joined by a cricket symphony and rustles that could come from any number of animals, but for once, I don’t feel threatened by not knowing.

There’s a whole nightlife going on all around us, a welcome contrast to the hush and gloom that cast such a long shadow over this place.

I breathe in a lungful of crisp, clean air.

All the spite and cobwebs that choked the Longing Woods has been swept away.

Dad’s voice is with me, stronger than ever. Before, it was fuzzy, like a half-remembered memory or a low muffled voice speaking in another room. But now I have clarity.

Jules Marwood is everywhere my eyes land on, my fingers touch, and my lungs breathe. Every blade of grass and dirt-caked pebble. My dad’s presence is all around me.

He’s always with me. He always has been.

By unspoken agreement, the Fellowship wants to put as much distance between ourselves and the well as possible.

Far from any bachelor party bros or nineties teens with axes to grind.

No one even thinks about stopping until it’s almost three in the morning and a bleary-eyed Evan trips, flailing forward.

They would have fallen flat on their face if not for Tayla steadying them just in time.

There’s a stricken look on her face as she releases them.

“You good?” Keiffer asks. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

We all freeze, as though the word itself will summon them. Kiara is the first to relax, huffing out a laugh. “If I never hear the word ghost again, it’ll be too soon.”

My heart tells me that our way home will be unencumbered by any malicious spirits, and I want to tell them this, but the words don’t emerge.

It’s like a dam has broken and all the wonder of the world has come spilling out.

My senses buzz. There’s the brush of wind against the cooling sweat on my neck, the blaze of crimson and rust-colored leaves whispering overhead, the nuttiness of the furry brown hen-of-the-woods mushrooms growing at the roots of dead oak trees.

It isn’t the same offensive odor of decay that followed Tayla and me for the past couple of days.

This is more like raindrops purging the putrescence from the soil, rinsing away the ruination. Setting everything right again.

Tayla rearranges her expression, but it’s still far from normal. “How’s your ankle?”

“Fine,” says Kiara. Her eyes find mine and linger. “Doesn’t hurt. But it’s not like we’re going to make it home tonight anyway, so we may as well get some sleep. When we find a good place, let’s stop.”

After a mile of sleepy, stumbling walking, we find a clearing encircled by Queen Anne’s lace and spiky green balls of angelica and goldenrod.

It’s an idyllic place that would be perfect for a picnic, but no one even thinks about eating.

We pick our way through the wild blooms until we reach the center, where there’s just enough space for three tents to cluster together.

Under the moonlight, we get the tents up and crawl inside.

It occurs to me that I haven’t said a word ever since Kiara said Let’s go home .

As we unroll our sleeping bags, glimpses of the last few hours come back to me: Everyone’s glances subtly checking to make sure I’m okay.

The worried looks passed between them the longer I stay in my own little world.

Evan and Radhika whispering about disassociation .

Guilt rears its head, and I want to say goodnight to Kiara, but the second I’m inside my warm cocoon, I fall fast asleep.

When I wake, it’s to the chattering of birds and the soft rustles of Kiara tidying away her sleeping bag. Dawn brings with it my ability to speak. “Good morning.”

She startles then smiles. “Morning. I was going to get breakfast started. You can sleep for a few more minutes if you—”

“I’ll help,” I say.

We slice Granny Smith apple rounds, slather them in a thick layer of peanut butter, and shower them with crunchy granola. Tayla eats her apple rounds plain, but the rest of us eat the toppings with relish.

The sun is poking out behind the gray clouds when we’re ready to be on our way. I want to check in with my friends back home, but even though I shake out the contents of my backpack, I can’t find the radio. “I had it in my hand when we escaped,” I say in frustration. “Where did it go ?”

“Must have dropped it when we took off running,” Keiffer says with sympathy, helping me repack.

Radhika bites her lip, crouching half in, half out of the tent to help fold one of my sweatshirts. “Should we go back for it? It’s our only lifeline to the real world.”

No one jumps to agree or disagree, so I make the call. “We can’t even be sure where it is. Besides, thanks to Kiara, the forest is exorcised. I think the way back will be faster than our route in. Right, Tayla?”

“What?” She looks surprised to be addressed, pausing her neck stretch. “Oh, um. Yeah. Maybe. Time seems to be passing like normal again.” She resumes tilting her head from side to side.

“Are you…okay?” Evan asks.

“I wasn’t made for sleeping on a forest floor,” says Tayla. “Can’t wait to get home and sleep in my own bed.”

That’s a sentiment we can all get behind.

It doesn’t take long to dismantle the tents and head back for the trail.

None of us got enough sleep, but our footsteps are light and eager as we walk without stopping until my stomach lets out the grizzliest rumble of my life.

We break at the map board only long enough to peel squashed clementines and eat the last of our energy bars, throw away our trash, and dig a few latrine holes.

The sun is starting to dip by the time our surroundings start to feel recognizable again, though how, when all the trees look like every other tree, I’m not sure. It’s just a feeling, and I’ve learned to trust those.

I fill my lungs with a deep inhale. The earthiness of soil and shrub has replaced the malignant odor of rot.

Even the strong fungal scent of the frond-like yellow chicken-of-the-woods mushroom isn’t offensive.

Dad’s voice is with me, not out of a memory but so achingly familiar it’s as though he’s next to me.

Bending to show me the bright yellow meat of the mushroom, explaining that these are good to eat and reminding me once again that the warty white-and-red ones are not.

The memory brings with it a sweet, bearable ache.

Kiara sidles up to me, sliding her palm against mine until I interlock our fingers and hold on tight. “How are you?” she asks, quiet enough that the others, walking a few steps behind, won’t hear.

It’s a hard question to answer and not one I can wholly reconcile just yet.

In one version, I came here for my dad, and I let him go instead.

In the other, I came here for my dad, and I found him again.

Both are true, and while I’m grateful that I see and hear my father in the presence of all the small wonders around me, it’s not the same as having him back as flesh and blood.

But I don’t regret using my one wish on Kiara, either. I can be sad while at the same time knowing I made the right decision. The choice Dad would have made and a man like Henry Prior probably never could.

“Alive,” I tell Kiara. “I’m alive.”

And life, I think, is a gift that means we’re always moving forward. We move on. Grief is the price we pay for loving and losing someone in this world.

Her hand squeezes mine. I put one foot in front of the other, and together we move on.

The Fellowship chatters freely even as the sun goes down. No one jumps when a twig snaps, when something stirs beyond the shrubbery. The wildlife is plentiful and more willing to show its face now that the woods belong to them once more.

“I think we’re close to where we stopped on our first night,” I say when Keiffer suggests we take a break to rest and eat dinner.

“Really?” Tayla looks stricken. Her dainty shoulders tense.

“What’s wrong?” asks Evan.

“Nothing,” she says quickly. “I just…got a bad feeling.”

“About stopping here?” Radhika surveys our surroundings, as though something or someone could pop out at any second, then closes the gap between her and Keiffer.

“If we eat fast and push on, maybe we’ll make it home tonight,” says Kiara.

Evan’s got the knack for making fires, and Radhika whisks up the last of the powdered eggs, and together they make us egg-tortilla wraps.

It’s a basic omelet fried with a flour tortilla right on top, flipped, drizzled with hot sauce down the middle, and rolled up nice and tight.

I blink in amazement, not even daring to question whose pack tortillas , of all things, have come from. They really did overpack.

While we wait our turn, Kiara tugs me a little away.

She doesn’t let go of my hand. “Nova, before we see our families, I just wanted to say…”

“Yes?”

“When you pretended to be Madame Aurora, you said something.”

I cast my gaze at my scuffed boots, ashamed.

“You said,” says Kiara, “that I’d have to sacrifice my heart’s desire in order to break the curse.”

“It was bullshit. I have no idea if it would or wouldn’t.”

“Yeah, maybe. But I didn’t want to take that chance. You once wanted me to know how it felt to be obsessed with someone. Well, I was. All this time.” My eyes fly to hers. “It’s you, Nova. It’s always been you. I would have taken my chances with the bad luck if it meant I still had a shot with you.”

I can’t believe what I’m hearing. “N-no,” I stammer. “So all this time, we could have been…?”

She laughs. “Yes.”

I swoop in to capture her lips. We both taste like grit and sweat, but the kiss is sweet and giddy and makes my stomach somersault. It’s far from the perfect kiss I’d imagined, but I don’t even care because I’m kissing Kiara Mistry, and she’s kissing me back.