Tracks

If nothing else, Ireland was definitely keeping me on my toes. What with Leila’s perkiness putting me on edge and Tracks’ random appearances and conversations both confusing and intriguing me. I couldn’t honestly say there was ever a dull moment any more. As I sat down at the dinner table with Leila and Brenna, I was tempted to ask them what they knew about my Peter. After all, they had to know about him, at least by description. But then asking would involve their opinions of him and, as Tracks had made clear, he wanted me to come to my own. The question was, why did that matter?

“Where did you go this afternoon?” Brenna wondered absently, taking a sip of her tea.

I looked up, realizing she was talking to me and not Leila. I shrugged. “Skated down to the Bay,” I said. “Did a little bit of sightseeing on my way back.”

“Oh?” Brenna said. “Where to?”

I shrugged. “The old railroad.” After Tracks had left and I’d quit the beach, I’d skated by, just to see if he was already there, waiting. I was slightly disappointed that he hadn’t been; I was starting to believe that if I thought hard enough about something depressing, he’d pop up. It seemed to be his pattern. But maybe he was just randomly nearby whenever I was all alone. But there was no need to mention all of that to my aunt.

It took me a moment to realize the table had gone very still at my words. I paused mid-chew, and returned their gaze. “What?” I asked around a mouthful of meatloaf.

“The old railroad?” Leila repeated.

I nodded. “Yeah. So?”

“I, uh, didn’t think ye’d go there,” she stated, her eyes sliding to her mom’s. “I assumed Aunt Meara would’ve mentioned it to you.”

I blinked. “What about it?” What, were they trying to say it was dangerous or something? The railroad was off line—probably had never been online. There was nothing dangerous about it.

I paused. Unless they meant…

“There’s a lot of old stories surrounding that railroad,” Brenna said, her voice a lot calmer than her daughter’s. “Tales that have been circulating for centuries.”

I groaned when I realized where she was going. “What, like Faery tales?” I shook my head. “Didn’t Ma tell you—I grew out of Tinker Bell when I was six,” I deadpanned.

“Tinker Bell,” Leila snapped, “is hardly a Faery.”

I blinked. Apparently, the Irish took their Faeries very seriously. “My bad,” I muttered, returning my attention to the meal. “So…what’s the story then?”

Leila looked at Brenna, shrugged and then followed my lead. Brenna set down her fork and began.

“The stories have been flowing about it for centuries, Leslie,” she said again. “The forest just beyond the railroad is said to be the entrance to the Otherworld. A portal to the land of the Faery folk.”

I nodded, keeping my head down so I wouldn’t break out into laughter. Some people, possibly the two sitting beside me, obviously still believed in these stories.

“A small woodland that never withers, never dies,” Brenna said, her voice soft, aloof. “That is as fresh and new in winter as in the heat of the summer. For years, it made the townsfolk afraid. Back when Calaway didn’t exist, hundreds of years ago, the people would rather freeze in the winter than risk going in for firewood. They said there were shadows within, the dark forces of nature. The shadows would steal away the children if the parents went within a hundred yards of the place.

“Now, none of that’s true, Leslie,” Brenna went on, apparently either not seeing my look of disbelief—or mistaking it for awe. “The Faeries, the true Faeries of Ireland, are known to be kind, but tricksters. Folk who would indeed steal children, but out of sport rather than cruelty. The tales of old are who they were, before times changed, and belief ebbed. They’ve become, the villagers like to believe now, a gentle sort who only require peace.”

“And then the railroad came,” Leila murmured.

I glanced at her, realizing now that I was probably the sanest out of everyone in this room. If only they’d begun to tell me the story this morning, I wouldn’t have spent so long wondering about the madness apparently already in my blood.

“The railroad was built a hundred years ago,” Brenna continued. “We’ve enough open land for it, and the station would’ve increased the revenue of the town exponentially. But halfway into the project, it started.

“There were accidents. Too many. And a couple close calls, too.” Her voice had gone quiet. “At first, it was thought a hoax; someone playing a game based on the myths. But as time went on, people became afraid again. There was an explosion that nearly cost one of the organizers his life.

“No one wanted to work there any longer; the excitement over the initial plans had failed. It soon became that, if the railroad was finished, none would ever dare use it. So the work was abandoned, and none where brave enough to pull up the tracks—to risk further disturbing the Faery lands.”

Silence fell after that, a heavy hush that was clearly meant to create a sense of amazement in the listeners. I waited a few beats, playing with the green beans on my plate until a sufficient amount of time had passed.

“Mhmm,” I murmured not buying it for a second. “And, uh, how did all these myths start? Someone got bored one day? A few freak accidents happened a hundred years ago that got blown out of proportion?” I smirked. “Now, I know you guys aren’t up on American history so much, but look into the Salem Witch Trials. That’s pretty much how that mess started: rumors.”

This time, it was Leila who answered, her blue eyes flashing in annoyance. “This isn’t a history lesson, Leslie. This was all very real. Three hundred years ago, there was a war among the Faeries. A civil war. The backlash left humans afraid of Faery kind. What happened at the railroad reiterated that fear. Panic spread through Calaway that the Faeries would soon start to turn on the town instead of one another. So the project was abandoned for the safety of the town.”

“And how do you know this?” I insisted, not believing for a second that these two could honestly believe there’d actually been a Faery war five minutes away.

“We’re Irish, lassie,” Brenna said seriously. “It’s written into our history.”

I was about to say that still doesn’t make it true, but thought better of it at the last second. They obviously believed this story—for some weird, inexplicable reason—and I’d bet half the town did too. Definitely Lincoln and the boys. It wasn’t worth fighting over. The make-believe could only bother you if you let it. They obviously had; I didn’t have a reason to.

I just nodded and kept on eating.

“Yer not planning to go there again, are ye lass?” Brenna asked after a beat of silence.

“Does it matter?”

“Aye, and it does. I’ll not have yer mother worrying over you while you’re here.”

“Then don’t mention it to her.” I shrugged.

“Leslie.” And Brenna’s voice was serious enough that I gave her my attention. “Don’t go back there, lass. Please.”

I couldn’t promise that. What did I care about Faeries and battles? I didn’t believe they’d happened; the stories couldn’t affect me as they did people who believed, like Leila and Brenna. And honestly, if a Faery popped out of the woodwork and tried to steal me away, who was to say I wasn’t better off?

Was that still madness? Maybe. Or I was about ready for some wonder in my life.

But for their sake, I nodded in agreement. “Okay,” I said, crossing my fingers under the table. “I promise.”

Suffice to say, I broke that promise not even eight hours later. The story had only served to pique my curiosity further, and I had a hunch that Tracks was more likely to be at the railroad now, in the dead of the night, when the shadows could hide him and mystery would be in the air. Mystery seemed to be kind of a big deal for him. I made a mental note to ask him why he hung around there, tucking it right beside the note to ask him about the Faery tale.

I worked especially hard to keep silent as I snuck out my window around eleven o’clock, taking care not to put my sneakers on until I was sitting on the sill. I picked up my skateboard from the window seat, then jumped to the ground just as I’d done the night before. A rush of adrenaline ran through me as I ran toward the road and hopped on the board. It was a throwback to the days when I’d sneak out for parties or late night concerts.

Ma and Dad would’ve flipped if they knew I was running around in the middle of the night after what had happened to Aaron; but for me, the adventure of it was what kept me from spiraling back into a blubbering shell.

I skated to the railroad, all the while thinking about Brenna’s story. A Faery war, mortal kidnappings, and an abandoned railroad all made for an awesome kid’s story. Easily could’ve been the sequel to Peter Pan. But I wasn’t a kid anymore. I wasn’t interested in the magic and myth of it; I was interested in proving it wrong.

I made it to the tracks faster than I had last night, kicked my skateboard up into my hand as I approached them. Now that I was finally here, after having thought of them all day, I felt relieved, as if I was coming home or something.

They definitely looked more menacing at night, even though I knew how thin the trees were from my mid-day rendezvous past them. Hardly any substance beyond a couple hundred feet, and certainly not worthy of the legend that surrounded them. I set my skateboard down on the far side of the railroad tracks and took a step closer to the trees.

“’Ey yo, Tracks!” I called, my voice low just in case someone else decided to lurk around here at night too. I didn’t want to draw someone else’s attention, but I did want to draw his.

"’Ey yo?” I heard the disapproval in Tracks’ voice before I saw him. “Oh, what is the American world coming to? Aren’t you supposed to be the number one country or something?”

I rolled my eyes. “Where are you?” I shot back.

“Up here.”

I looked up. Lo and behold, he hadn’t been kidding. There he was, sitting on a low branch a few feet away from me, one leg dangling over the side, in a way so reminiscent of Peter Pan, I seriously wished I had a camera on me for later proof of the comparison. I couldn’t see his face in the darkness, but I knew his voice well enough by now to know it was him. When he held out a hand to me, a gesture to join him, I let him help me onto the branch without a second thought.

“Well, isn’t this a pleasure?” he teased as I swung a leg up over the branch and settled myself in front of him. “Didn’t honestly think you’d have an interest in coming back.”

I smirked. “Oh, my interest is certainly starting to grow.”

“How so?”

“Heard any good Faery tales as of late?” I quipped.

Tracks leaned back, resting against the trunk. “I see. I take it, then, you’ve heard the history of the railroad since we last met?”

“My aunt thought it was necessary to warn me against the big, bad Faeries.”

“She did, did she? Brenna Callaghan thought she needed to warn you against the Faer folk? Whatever for?”

I lifted a brow. “How’d you know she was my aunt?”

“You’re kidding, right?”

I let it slide, knowing that he’d never admit how he knew, no matter how long I badgered him about it. That, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d made the connection the minute I said who I was. How many Leslies were new in town, after all?

“Whatever. Why’s that weird, though? My aunt warning me?”

Tracks shrugged. “That’s a question for her, love.”

“Then why bring it up?”

“It amused me.”

I rolled my eyes. “What doesn’t?”

“Touché.”

“So what do you think about these stories?” I wanted to know, since he’d given me an easy access to the topic. “Believe in Faeries, England?”

“Oh,” he pouted. “I like Tracks so much more.”

I kicked at his leg.

“Yeah, I believe in them. Hard not to having lived in Ireland most of my life,” he told me, reaching into his pocket for something. He pulled out a cigarette and lighter, and for a split second, I saw his face. The sunglasses were perched on his head.

I licked my lips hesitantly. “What’s with the shades?” I asked.

He lifted a brow and the lighter went away. “Why do they bother you so much?” he shot back, taking a drag of the cigarette and releasing the smoke slowly.

I didn’t answer.

Tracks was silent a moment as well, then sat up and plowed on. “I believe in the Faeries because I’ve got proof of them, love. As I’m sure most of this town could claim as well. As Irishmen and women, their belief is in their blood. But as Calaway men and women, they’ve got cold, hard facts.”

“Do they now?”

He nodded once.

“And what’s the proof? Show me?”

Tracks took another whiff and shook his head. “A girl like you wouldn’t believe no matter what.”

“Is that your way of saying ‘psych?’”

“Not at all.”

“Then try me.”

Tracks lifted a brow; for the first time since we’d met startled. “You’re serious.”

“Yep.”

He chuckled. “I’ll be damned. Well, all right then.” He put the cigarette out against the tree, then rose to his feet, balancing on the branch in a way that made me pretty sure he’d done it a hundred times. “Come on—up you go, love.”

I stared at him. “Why?”

“Do you want your proof or not?”

I blinked. How had a simple story turned into such a serious mission? Figuring I had nothing to lose—and knowing I’d have the pleasure of proving him wrong in the end—I obliged and made my way to my feet, taking his hands to keep me steady.

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” he wanted to know.

I smirked, wondering how I was so amused by a guy who might be as mental as Brenna and Leila. “Bring it.”

The last thing I’d expected was for him to sweep me into his arms and leap off the tree.

I would’ve screamed if that had been a Leslie Caitlyn Lucas personality trait. Instead, my jaw fell open, my eyes squeezed shut, and I clutched my arms around Tracks’ neck, waiting for the impact of the ground. But it never came.

When I heard him laughing again, my eyes flew open.

“No fucking way.”

Tracks just grinned. “Well…some fucking way.”

I wasn’t sure which I was more shocked by. The fact that we were seemingly flying through the sky—away from the trees—or the fact that we were seemingly flying because of his wings.

Wings. Yep, that was definitely the winning number. Large, black wings that somehow expanded from his back without so much as shredding his shirt. I tried to hike myself up enough to see his back, but even in the moonlight, it was too dark to see from where they emanated. All I knew was that somehow, in some way, Tracks had wings.

Wings.

“What the hell?” I hissed, but my mouth was close enough to his ear that he heard.

Tracks shrugged. “You wanted proof, love. There you have it.”

“But…how?” I pulled back abruptly, trying to see through his sunglasses into his eyes. I thought back to my earlier description of him sitting in the tree and blanched. ”Are you Peter Pan?”

He gave a howl that could’ve woken a cave full of hibernating bears, and shook his head. “Hardly. I’m no more Peter Pan than Tinker Bell’s a Faery.”

I gazed at him a moment, his words shooting right through me. Leila had said the exact same thing about Tinker Bell only a few hours ago. “Then…who are you?” I wanted to know again, tightening my hold on his neck as he suddenly veered left. The air flushed around me as his wings beat to accommodate.

He smiled. “Tracks, apparently.”

“Come on!” I thumped him hard on the shoulder, then gasped when I felt him loosen his grip on me. Suddenly, both movie and book came flashing back to me as I remembered what Peter liked to do to Wendy. I tightened my hold again. “Don’t you dare,” I hissed.

He just smiled and flew down.

I hadn’t been paying attention to our location until now, but he was apparently making a circle. He’d taken me up toward the sky, away from the forest, showing off the wings that sent my heart into my throat. Now, he was circling back towards the woods. He skimmed the ground right over the tracks, close enough that I could’ve reached out and touched them if I’d been brave enough, and then veered back up through the branches. I started to reach for the same branch we’d kicked off from, assuming the journey had come to an end, when he shook his head.

“I’m not quite done with you yet, love.”

“What?”

He didn’t respond. We flew through the trees, and all I could think was that he was trying to get me to scream or freak out. I’d already established in broad daylight that the forest couldn’t be any bigger than a mile and a half. Flying, we’d make it through that in seconds—especially at the speed Tracks was going. And yet…the trees stretched on. And on and on and on. I couldn’t be sure how long we flew, but we’d passed a mile about twenty words ago.

“Tracks,” I said carefully, “where are we…”

I trailed off as I caught a glimpse of what was ahead. For the second time, my jaw dropped and my eyes widened as I stared in astonishment.

A castle. A beautiful, ancient white castle. Sitting on the brink of a cliff, a crystal clear waterfall flowing down into a lake shining like jewels. How could this be here? I wanted to ask him. Where had it been hiding? But its beauty was too great for speech; its existence too overwhelming to even try. Sitting alone on the edge, it was like a diamond at the end of the world. Like…like something out of a picture book or a…

A Faery tale.

“Tracks…” I breathed again, but it was all I could say.

“Yeah,” he agreed, flying over the lake and up the side of the cliff. I ran my fingers through the streams of water that fell like tendrils of mermaid hair. “It’s something, all right.”

He flew up the side of the castle, and I saw it was made completely of wood. I’d expected it to be made of stone or ivory or some sort of rare marble, but no. It was simply wood—of beautiful ivory bark. Somehow, that made it all the more brilliant—as if there was magic in the very fibers of the building.

Tracks made his way to the roof—or whatever the tops of castles were called—around one of the two turrets, and then came to land smoothly on what I assumed was the battlements. He touched down a lot better than the plane had the day before, and set me on my feet as if I wasn’t the kind of girl who could eat six slices of lasagna for dinner. Then he tucked his hands in his pockets and smiled.

“Well? Proof enough?”

I didn’t answer right away. I couldn’t. I walked to the wall of the battlements, not taking my eyes off the ground because I was half convinced it would disappear if I did.

Gently, I laid my hands on the wood. It was smooth beneath my hands, as if the builders had finished only days ago, and cool, as though made of glass or actual, clear diamonds. The waterfall fell directly below me, a cascade of perfect crystal water flowing from a river that ran along the eastern side of castle. The surface of the lake never shuddered, never rippled, despite the intensity of the falling stream.

The cliff and lake sat in a clearing, I saw now, surrounded by trees much thicker and healthier than the ones located beside the railroad. Throughout them were mounds, little mounds of grass and dirt, barely visible among them in the darkness. The clearing itself was empty, save for a thick bleached tree stump that stood between the woods and the lake.

Ma’s bedtime stories flooded back to me as I gazed at the mounds and the stump. I knew what they were. Or…what they were supposed to be.

They were the homes of the Faer folk.

I looked over my shoulder and found Tracks standing just behind me, watching, waiting. He looked as calm as he’d ever been, and I knew I’d just been served in a way that I would never fully understand.

“Why is it empty here?” I asked softly. “Where is everyone?”

I didn’t specify I meant the Faeries were; the term wouldn’t come out. Even though I’d seen Tracks’ wings, the proverbial proof in the pudding, I couldn’t get my brain to admit that’s who was meant to be here. I couldn’t confess that there truly were—or had been—Faeries living in secret beyond the railroad. But the silence here, the calm, was quite clearly the remnants of a home long abandoned.

It was an abandonment I recognized well.

Tracks shrugged and stepped up beside me, resting his arms on the wall. “They’re all in hiding,” he said quietly.

“Why?”

“The war.”

I turned to him, taken aback. “The war?”

“The Faery War,” he said, without a hint of amusement for my negligence. “I thought you said your aunt explained it to you.”

I shook my head. “Leila only mentioned it.”

He nodded. “Ask them about it then. It’s not my place to tell.”

“Tracks—”

“Leslie, please. Trust me on this. You should be asking your aunt and your cousin these questions. Not me.”

I clenched my jaw, annoyed. “Then why’d you bring me here? Why bother?”

“Because you asked me to,” he said simply. “You wanted proof of the Faeries, and I wanted to give it to you. I wanted to tell you what I was, so there’d be someone you could talk to who kept no secrets. But it’s not my place to explain. I’m sorry.”

I wanted to continue to argue, but I knew it would get me nowhere. He’d meant his apology; I’d been able to tell from the tone of his voice, the lack of sarcasm or laughter. But I still didn’t understand.

“How do you know so much about me, Tracks?” I wanted to know. “My aunt, my cousin? Is it a Faery thing? What makes you want to help me?”

He smiled a little. “Moment you told me your name, I realized you were the same Leslie that Callaghan’s been talking about. You’re all over town, love. She’s quite excited you’re here.”

I snorted. “So I’ve heard. You know her then?”

“We’ve crossed paths.”

Something about the way he said that gave the answer to my next question away. “You’re not friends, are you?”

“Hardly.”

“And why’s that?”

Tracks shrugged and leaned against the wall. “Run in different circles, you could say. Leila’s your cousin, Leslie, so I’ll not badmouth her. But, as far as why I’m helping you…” He trailed off, thinking his words over carefully. “There aren’t a lot of people in this town I can stand. Aye, your cousin’s included. When I saw you crying… Well, I guess you could say it intrigued me.” He smirked. “Made me wonder.”

Wonder. So it came back to that again, huh? The wonder of the girl crying to herself; the mystery of whether she’s completely insane.

Couldn’t say it wasn’t an answer I didn’t understand.

But I didn’t tell him all that. “I’m someone to be intrigued by, Tracks. I’m just looking for some solitude and a good place to cry.” Not my proudest moment, but it was the truth.

He tilted his head to the side then, much as he’d done earlier at the pub. “Then why are you still hanging around me, Leslie?”

I opened my mouth to respond before I realized I didn’t have an answer. He nodded, as though he’d expected as much. “See? Everyone enjoys a little bit of mystery.”

“And I’m the mystery you’re enjoying? The blonde girl from Connecticut who can’t make heads or tails of a dime-sized town?”

Tracks wrinkled his nose. “More like the girl who’s lost and doesn’t want to be found, who’s looking but has no idea what for.”

I backed away. He certainly had a knack for deducing more about me than I was ready for anyone to see. “Yeah well…get used to disappointment then.”

“Did you really think I didn’t see that coming?”

Touché.

“Fine,” I said at length, holding up my hands in surrender. I was sick of talking about myself and my problems. “Where are we, Tracks? We’re not still by the railroad, right?”

He nodded. “No, we are. It’s about…ten minutes that way.” He pointed to the left. “Depending how you get there.”

I stared at him. “No way.”

“Leslie, you were there!” He laughed. “Just now, when we flew here. You saw how we arrived.”

“Yeah but…there’s no way. It isn’t possible!”

“That argument will hold up if you can explain the way we got here.”

I pursed my lips, beat.

“Exactly. This is the forest, love. The same forest. Just…the part that the average person isn’t able to see.”

“Tracks—”

“I’m not going to keep arguing with you. You don’t have to believe me, but you can’t say I’m lying to you.”

“How then?”

“How what?”

"How is it the same forest?”

He sighed. “Leslie, you’re looking for answers in all the wrong places. We both know there’s nothing I can say to you that will make you believe. Brenna gave you the story; I gave you the proof. You’ll only believe if you’re willing to suspend your disbelief.”

I lifted my chin. “Tolkien?”

“Who else?”

I shrugged. “Barrie,” I muttered, half to myself. “So…I’m really supposed to believe that the woods by the railroad are an entrance to the ‘Otherworld,’ as Brenna puts it. That this,” I stomped a couple times, “is the Otherworld?”

“Well, Faeryland, but yeah. Pretty much.”

“That’s completely crazy.”

“And you’re incredibly stubborn,” was his response.

I huffed out a breath and crossed my own arms, mirroring his stance. “Then I guess we’re at an impasse.”

“It’s your fault.”

We glared at one another for a long time, neither wavering in our opinions. I was sure there had to be something I’d missed, and it seemed he was just as sure that I was in denial. But what did he expect?

I remembered what Aaron had said at the skate park, only minutes before he’d died. About Ma’s stories and believing… How he missed the days when we did. When I did. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“All right!” I said at length, letting my arms drop. “Fine. Let’s pretend for a minute that I do believe this is…Faeryland or whatever. How come I couldn’t see it before? I’ve been to the tracks three times without so much as a glimpse of the castle. It’s not exactly something easily missed. Can you explain that?”

This time, Tracks didn’t answer right away. His jaw relaxed and he leaned back against the battlement wall with a sigh. “No,” he admitted, with a shake of his head. “I can’t. You should have been able to.”

“What?”

He nodded. “I thought you’d be able to anyway. I’m not sure why you can’t. I mean, there’s a good chance it’s your insistence not to or the fact that you’ve never been previously exposed. But…that’s just guesswork.”

“Wait, hold on. Why would I be able to?”

But he didn’t answer, lost in his own thoughts.

I took a deep breath and tried to stay calm. Now was not the time for him to close up. “Tracks…”

“Leslie, there’s only so much I can say to you—so much I know. Again, I’m sorry. But…I honestly don’t know why you couldn’t see Faeryland in the first place. I thought that’s why you’d come to the tracks, at first. Not many people go there; I assumed you’d come knowing what you would find. And then I heard you crying.”

“I had other things on my mind,” I murmured, turning around and gazing back out over the forest.

Tracks nodded. “I know.”

We fell silent then, the two of us pondering yet another mystery. I had no idea why I should’ve been able to see this world, yet he had no idea why I hadn’t been able to. As far as I was concerned, this little adventure of his created more questions than it had solved. Although, at least I knew a little bit more about him now.

“So…you’re a Faery then,” I said, glancing sideways at him. “The, uh…the truth behind Tinker Bell?”

Tracks smirked. “You could say that.”

“And Peter?”

“Complete myth.”

Now, it was my turn to smirk. “Liar.”

Tracks took me back to the railroad to pick up my skateboard, then offered instead to fly me home. Part of me was tempted. It was extremely…interesting to have so often cracked Peter Pan jokes in my mind about him, only to find out that he was more like Peter than I ever could’ve imagined. Hell, more like Tinker Bell too. The part of me that loved the book, that once upon a time used to dream about being Wendy, was awed by the realization that maybe—whether intentionally or unintentionally—J.M. Barrie hadn’t been all that far off.

But the other part of me, the stronger, rational part that was Leslie, couldn’t stand the idea of flying again. Once upon a time had been a long time ago for me; the years when I would fall asleep reading of it, imagining myself as the Wendy who never left Neverland, had ended at some point I no longer could remember. Any hope of returning to that period of my life had died with my brother. So I said no, to Tracks’ immense disappointment, and skated while he flew overhead to see me safe.

I did, however, let him lift me up to my bedroom window, knowing it was a better avenue to secrecy than taking the back door again. I grabbed his arm before he could turn and fly off.

Tracks paused, waited.

I wasn’t sure what I wanted to say at first. “Thank you” and “that was fun” just didn’t seem right, didn’t seem enough. Tracks was trying to help me, for reasons I don’t think either of us could explain, and that meant something to me, something I couldn’t put into words.

“I…” I broke off. “Don’t go far, okay?” I said at last, surprised by how vulnerable it came out.

For once, Tracks didn’t smirk, didn’t crack any jokes. He squeezed my hand gently. “Faery’s Honor.”