“Kell,” Jubilee said after a pause. “Are you going to…Wait. Do you need to do something first?”
Kell blinked. The birdsong politely fell silent. “Yes. We need a gift.”
“A gift.”
“We definitely need a gift,” Kell said, letting the idea babble for him. “It’s impolite to arrive without something for your hosts.”
Saeldian shifted. “I didn’t—wait. I think I might still have a brooch in my pack.”
“But it shouldn’t be anything too extravagant.”
“I want to complain about not being informed that we had to bring the perfect gifts, but I’m not going to because we were all rushed into this,” Saeldian not-complained. “So could you maybe give us an example?”
Lorzok cleared his throat. “Timtim has a suggestion.”
Timtim was nibbling away at—no, under—a low plant with round toothy leaves.
“Strawberries are perfect. Everyone pick a handful.”
The berries were tiny—no bigger than his thumbnail—and they were deep red and tempting. Kell filled a pouch with them, keeping an eye on the others. Then he looked back when his thoughts caught up to what he saw.
Saeldian, squatting the way a farmer would to collect a handpicked harvest, low to the ground, solidly balanced, straight-backed. They picked up a cloth bag and moved easily to the next clump, carefully and expertly picking fruit.
The Saeldian he knew didn’t pick strawberries from anything but a crystal dish. But the gardens and orchards at Righthoof Manor didn’t harvest themselves, did they? Bastion and Serenity wouldn’t speak so fondly of Saeldian if they didn’t do their share. But between Saeldian and Jubilee, they’d nearly gathered enough berries for a pie.
Timtim thumped.
“Did you find something?” Kell ambled over to see a clump of golden-veined mushrooms on a fallen birch.
“Good nose, Timtim.”
Timtim leapt into the air, twisting so he faced the other way, and dashed toward Lorzok. Kell went back to the fallen tree.
Yolk mushrooms? They were the right color and shape. Kellnicked one with his dagger. It didn’t turn purple, so he could touch it. It smelled right—a bit like stonefruit and an earthen smell that woke up the sides of his tongue. Rows of pale and creamy ridges on the underside forked apart and joined together.
Yolk mushrooms. Verandil’s favorite.
Kell closed his eyes. The breeze shivering through the leaves hitched. The songbirds fell quiet.
“It’s all right,” he said to the wood. “Don’t stop on my account. It’s probably a sign. I wouldn’t have found these if—”
He didn’t finish the sentence. He had an extra linen square in a pack pocket. He gathered—not too many, but enough. Strawberries and yolk mushrooms would make a good gift. Exactly the right gift for Verandil. He tied the corners of the cloth together and aimed toward the bridge.
“I’m ready,” Kell said. “Let’s go.”
Saeldian reached out one arm for Timtim. “Up you come.”
Jubilee grabbed her pack off the ground. Kell kept walking, leading with the bundle of mushrooms. He couldn’t wait to take them to Verandil and see how he had grown and what he’d become. Was he still the best target archer of all his friends?
Kell set one foot on the stone bridge, and the air pressed closer to him. Verandil would be so happy for a batch of mushrooms. He’d be happy to see Kell. Every step brought him closer to his brother.
He reached the top of the arch just as the woodland whispered,If he still lives.
Kell couldn’t move then. He should have ignored it, acted as if he hadn’t heard anything, kept walking on his way to Verandil, whom he could always find, hiding or not—
If he still lives. If any of them still live.Doubt and fear snuck up right behind him after years of staying well ahead of them. He’d waited and waited for Terandis to return for him. Kell had walked backward around every tree, spoke every rhyme that came to mind, promised the night sky anything if the way would open and he could find them. He searched for a way back to the world where his family still lived, but…
But the way had opened at last. And now that he was here, onemore step could tell him that everyone in his memories no longer lived, and he would know that he was alone.
