No.
“What do you mean no?!”
You ignored Spring. You ignored me. You deal with snailzilla by yourself.
“You are the worst Sarafin cat ever,” Roam growled.
Tell that to the snail, his cat sniffed.
His gaze darted to the ground, scrambling for anything remotely usable as a weapon. He spotted a twig the size of a staff. He yanked it free from the underbrush with a grunt and brandished it like a sword, wildly unsure if snails could even be fought.
“This is so not what I signed up for,” he muttered, edging backward as the snail slowly, almost thoughtfully, turned its eyestalks toward him.
Wish you’d fallen through the portal with Amber and Jade? his cat offered dryly.
“Yes! They’d have had a bomb or a giant net launcher or something!”
Spring breathe fire or dig. She protect you. She care about us!
The words landed hard.
He stopped moving.
His grip on the stick slackened.
His cat was right. Spring always had a plan. A backup plan. And a backup for the backup.
And she’d been gone too long.
His gaze rose to the sky, his throat suddenly tight.
“Spring,” he whispered hoarsely, the name catching in his chest.
For the first time, the possibility that he might not see her again unfurled inside him like an icy wind seeping from his bones and blowing across his skin.
He stared up at the canopy, the weight of the world pressing in on him.
And this time, he didn’t argue with his cat.
Because now, he finally understood why it was angry. And why Spring had been angry for so long.
He just hoped he wasn’t too late.
Spring pressed herself against the smooth, curved wall of the glass jar as the giant child lifted it with both hands, giggling with delight. The world swayed sickeningly as the little girl dropped from the counter to the floor and trotted toward her Nana, her curls bouncing with every step.
Spring tried to dig her claws into the slick glass floor and her wings half-flared for balance, but it was impossible to get a grip. Her heart pounded in her chest like a snare drum, the rhythm wild and uneven.
She was trapped.
She was really trapped?—
And she was terrified.
The room glowed with ambient light streaming in from dozens of quaint windows. An iron kettle bubbled on the stove, steam curling in lazy tendrils. Glowing orbs floated gently in the corners, adding additional soft, comforting light.
Despite the magic swirling through the room, Spring couldn’t stop shaking.
“Nana!” the girl chirped. “Look at my fairy dragon!”
