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A chestnut brown donkey appeared through the trees. The animal looked side to side urgently, in the same fashion as Madigan. The poor thing didn’t seem pleased to be in the Wilds. A wobbly old wagon, complete with rusty wheels and loud squeaks, emerged next. Lit torches with sputtering flames sat propped up on each side of the box seat. Like Austri, the driver had a deep hooded cloak pulled up over his head. He was hunched over as he rattled and shook the driving reins. He stopped the wagon in the clearing. I expected an elderly, crumpled man to hobble down from the driver’s seat, but he pushed back his hood and hopped down with the agility of an acrobat. He looked to be in his twenties (or was that forties in Troikana?). His head was shaved and his chin was fringed with a dark blond goatee. Black ink tattoos, symbols of some sort, traveled up his neck and over the backs of his hands. The heavy cloak covered his arms, but I was sure the ink traveled everywhere. His black eyes surveyed the group and landed directly on Lyric. It was then I realized my friend had become oddly still.

I glanced over at her. Even in the dim light, I could see the pink blush on her face.

Osco nodded her direction. “Lyric, good to see you back.”

This time Lyric squeezed my hand, and the blush deepened.

“Seems you have an admirer,” I whispered.

Lyric shrugged. “Just a friend.” Her lashes fluttered down shyly.

“Here, Willow, go change into these.” While I became enthralled by the flirty interaction between Lyric and the driver, Revel had started pulling supplies out from the back of the wagon. He handed me a pile of musty smelling garments. It was heavy enough to make my knees buckle. A pair of very used boots, short and black like Lyric’s, sat on top.

He tossed a cloak to Lyric. She was still in her shy, blush stage and only managed to react at the last second, barely snatching the cloak before it landed on the wet ground. I stared at the pile of clothes in my hands. It was a mixture of worn buckskin and rough linen. The heft of it seemed to indicate some kind of heavy outer garment or cloak was in the pile. I looked up to thank Revel, but he had already turned away. He was all but pretending that I wasn’t there and had been acting that way since we’d crossed the river.

I glanced back to the narrow passage we’d just squeezed through, and a pang of homesickness struck me like a sharp slap. “Lyric, I think this is wrong for me. I don’t belong here. I should go back. Can I cross the bridge on the way back? Will that take me home?”

Lyric’s mouth dropped into a frown. “But we are going home.”

“I mean my home, the cottage. Maybe you can come back with me. There’s a spare bedroom, my old room.”

Her long cascade of braids swung back and forth as she shook her head. “You are home now, Rafi. You aren’t safe at the cottage, and I haven’t been back to Norvale in eleven years. I haven’t seen my mom and dad or my sister, Anji, in more than a decade. I’m not going back, Rafi. And you can’t either.”

Tears welled up in my eyes as she relayed my fate. This morning had been fun and exciting because I thought I was having a short, jaunty adventure with my three dear friends, but that wasn’t the case at all. I’d been taken from the only world I knew, the human world, and literally carried into someplace entirely different. I was someone who relished my cozy, quiet cottage and my peaceful garden. Both held so many memories for me. I was still able to hear my mom’s voice and smell her sweet lavender soap floating through the cottage. It was a place I’d resolved never to leave. I preferred to be by myself with my books and my thoughts. How on earth was I going to survive this?

Lyric motioned with her head. “Let’s get you changed. We can dash back into the passage. The end of it is wider. It’ll give you room to get dressed and privacy at the same time.” I shuffled absently behind her, unable to shake the deep-in-my-bones feeling that nothing would ever be the same, and I’d never see the cottage or Paxton again.

Lyric stood in the opening to give me even more privacy. My limbs and body were shivering harder now, making it difficult for me to unzip the skirt and unbutton the blouse. I was losing my invisibility cloak. Maybe it was time to shed the stupid thing altogether, or maybe I was going to need it more than ever in this strange place. I pulled up the buckskin breeches and tied off the leather strand that held them together. I stared down at them. They fit me like a glove. The boots, too. I pulled on the ivory linen shirt. The fit wasn’t great. I was positively swimming in it.

Lyric spun around. “Oh wow, those breeches are perfect.” In a motherly fashion, she began rolling up the long sleeves. “There’s your hand,” she giggled. “We could fit four of you in this shirt.” I stood still and let her finish like a little kid getting dressed by her mom. If only I was that little kid again. The adult world had been rough so far, but I was longing to return to that guileless life. Lyric tied the string at the front of the shirt and tucked the extra fabric into the top of the breeches.

“I’m not sure about any of this, Lyric.” My throat was dry and achy from emotion.

Lyric paused. Her green eyes sparkled with sympathy. “It’s a big change, I know. I still remember when your mom took us out of the box. I asked myself what I’d gotten into. All of a sudden, I was a wooden figurine in a strange place, and I’d left behind my family and home. But that night, you placed the three of us on a pillow next to you. We slept by your side, and I knew I’d made the right choice.” As she spoke, she reached around and pulled the pins from my bun, a bun that was now a haphazard mess. My long wavy hair cascaded down around my shoulders. “I’ve always loved the color of your hair, like spun sugar and molasses.”

I smiled. “Boy, I could have used a friend like you in high school.” Lyric bent down and picked up the cloak. It was lined with fur, and the shell was soft and leathery like the breeches. It had a distinct musky odor that wasn’t unpleasant, but it was going to take some getting used to. “Wait. You said you made a choice. You made the choice to sit on my shelf as a wooden figure?”

Lyric combed my wavy, messy hair with her fingers. “This is why I keep mine braided. Never have to bother with a comb. Sure, I made the choice. What’d you think?”

I shrugged. “Well, until this morning I thought the three of you were a fun purchase from a toy store, so I hadn’t really given it any thought.”

Madigan popped her head into the passage. “C’mon, you two, we’re losing daylight.” She paused and smiled at the both of us but didn’t say anything. She didn’t need to. She enjoyed seeing the two of us together.

I followed Lyric out. “She does realize that there is no actual daylight out—” My words fell off. Madigan was right. The gray, fuzzy light that had managed to pierce through the mist earlier had lost some of its energy. Cold air splashed my face, but my new clothes kept me surprisingly toasty. I’d been avoiding looking at the massive, glowering giant, but I allowed myself a quick peek that direction. I sucked in a breath. Paxton liked to call them my reverse sighs. Revel’s hazel eyes were dark green, like a stormy sea, as he gazed back at me. We stared at each other, silently, and without any show of emotion, but there was plenty of it going on beneath the surface—at least beneath my surface. I had no idea why, but something deep down told me there was a profound connection between us. I just wasn’t sure what or why.

Austri was pacing back and forth across the path, clutching his compass and looking like a dad whose kids were taking far too long to get in the car. “Are we goin’ or what? The light is already being spit out in small spurts. It only gets darker once we’re in the Wilds.”

I turned to Lyric. “I thought this was the Ironfall Wilds.”

“This is sort of like an entryway, like in a house. We’re ready to go, Austri, so don’t set your hair on fire.” Everyone laughed except the very serious big warrior.

Revel picked up a tattered burlap sack, heavy with what I assumed were supplies. He dropped it over his shoulder. I hoped the supplies included some sandwiches and potato chips. The morning donut was not keeping up with the adventure of the day.

“Osco, did you bring the torches?” Revel asked.

Osco’s sharp little goatee swished back and forth nervously. He headed to the back of the wagon. “Couldn’t find more than one in the supply store. Lots of rain lately and everyone was looking to replace their old ones.” Osco pulled a torch out of the wagon and tapped his own nearly fizzling torch to light it. The dampness in the air made the flame weak and flat. “Sorry about that.”

Revel nodded. “This will have to do.” He handed the torch to Austri.