And they were done with her.

And she was done with them.

They rejoined the small footpath when the sun was near its peak in the sky and the woods was in full-on spring. The faint green smell in the air felt like an embrace. And then they entered the clearing with the clock.

It was a strange thing to stand there on the other end of the clearing where she'd stood at the beginning of all of this. The clock was still there, but it looked smaller now, and less odd-like every woods would have a skinned grandfather clock in it.

Her ravens were still there, whispering to each other. One of them croaked and nodded at her from across the field, and then at the clock face.

Hazel went up to look at the clock. It read 10:30. Judging by the height of the sun in the sky, that was in no way the time in the woods. The other raven trilled at her, and she got the distinct impression it was telling her she was an idiot. Hazel chewed on her lip, and then reached up and moved the clock's arms so it read 7:00, and switched the picture of the sun to the moon. Maybe it would work.

"We're almost there," she told Jack, guiding him out of the clearing.

Jack saw the wolf before she did, and he gasped and froze, pointing ahead. The wolf was just where she'd left him, standing sentry by a tree, watching out for intruders in the woods.

"What do we do?" Jack breathed. It was the first thing he'd said since losing the baseball.

"It's okay," Hazel said to Jack.

The wolf did not move, only blinked and sniffed the air. She nodded at it as they pa.s.sed.

And then they were at the tree line, and Hazel exhaled. Jack looked at her, his brown hair as messy as always. Some things would never change.

"This is it," she said, because something needed to be said.

"That's home?" Jack asked, his voice soft.

"Yeah," Hazel said.

Jack looked at her, and then back at the woods. His shoulders fell. "I don't know," he said quietly.

"What? You don't know what?"

"I . . . don't know." His body twitched back toward the woods.

Hazel sucked in a breath. "You can't go back!"

"I know, I know. But"-he looked toward the world beyond the trees-"I don't know if I can do that, either." He shifted in his place.

"You can't stay here!" she said.

He gazed at her, his pale face serious and searching. "Why not?"

Hazel blinked. Because I need you. Because you're my best friend. Because I have to go out there, too.

"Because it's worse in here," she said.

Jack looked down. The green of the spring gra.s.s reached up to him. He took his hand and rubbed his chest, just where his heart was. He shifted again.

"I was mean to you," he said quietly.

"I know," Hazel said. It was on the tip of her tongue to say It's okay, except it wasn't, and he knew it.

"I don't know how to do things right sometimes."

Hazel glanced to the ground. "I don't either," she said.

"And Mom . . ." he said, and then looked away.

Hazel was supposed to say something comforting now, something that would let him know it was going to be okay, except she knew nothing of the kind. But that was still better than this.

"Come on," she said, and she tucked her hand through his arm. "We should go home."

Jack exhaled, and Hazel took that as agreement and pulled him through the trees. Hazel's foot landed in the snow and she muttered, "Oh, great." She was sick of winter.

It was dark out, and the air was filled with the squeals of sledding kids. It was the same scene that she'd left. A great fatigue slammed into Hazel, and with terrible dread she thought of the blocks they had to walk.

They crossed the street to the sidewalk. They'd made this walk hundreds of times in their lives together. It was as familiar as air.

There was so much she wanted to tell him. There had been wolves and weird psychics, swanskins and bird girls. There had been a marketplace that sold potions for forgetting, a wizard who could pull truths from your heart. There had been a cottage, a couple, a garden. There had been a match girl. There had been a journey. There was a witch who wanted nothing. And at the end of it all there was Jack, and maybe the witch was right, maybe things wouldn't be the same, but Hazel would still do everything she could to remind him what he was made of. There was so much she wanted to tell him-it used to be that nothing really happened to her unless she told Jack about it-but they walked in silence.

A minivan stopped in the street next to them, and a window rolled down to reveal the face of Tyler's mom. She called to them and motioned them into the car. "Come on, I'll drive you home!"

Jack and Hazel exchanged a look, shrugged, and climbed in the backseat.

Tyler was in the front, and he had turned fully around and was gaping at them. Hazel's hackles instinctively went up, and then she breathed them away. It wasn't going to be like that anymore. She wouldn't let it.

"Are you okay?" Tyler whispered to Jack.

Jack nodded slightly.

Hazel's eyes went to the dashboard of the minivan. It read 7:10.

"Is it still Friday?" she whispered to Tyler.

He nodded, wide-eyed. His eyes were on her face now, like they could not quite take in the magnitude of her scar. Hazel's hand flew to it and traced it all down the length of her cheek to her jaw.

"Hazel, what happened?" asked Mrs. Freeman, eyes full of alarm. "That looks fresh. Did someone do that to you?"

"Oh," said Hazel. "I tripped." What was she going to tell her mom? She had to think of something. She had to get used to the question.

"I see," said Tyler's mom, looking dubious. "And what are you doing out without your coats? Jack, I thought you were with your elderly aunt Bernice?"

"What?" Jack said. Hazel elbowed him.

"He came back," said Hazel.

"Okay . . ."

Tyler's mom drove them the few blocks to their houses. When Hazel and Jack spilled out, Tyler was silent. His mother noticed. "Aren't you going to say good-bye to your friends?" Hazel heard her say as the two got out onto the sidewalk.

Tyler rolled down the window and called good-bye. He started to roll the window up and then stopped.

"Hey, Hazel?"

"What?"

"You can hang out with us at recess on Monday if you want."

And then he rolled up the window and they drove away, leaving Hazel and Jack standing in front of their houses.

"Um, everyone thinks you're with your aunt Bernice," Hazel said.

Jack looked at her, brown eyes wide. "I don't have an aunt Bernice," he said.

A light went on in Jack's house behind them. Hazel looked up toward it, and then back at Jack. Jack rubbed his hand against his chest.

His mom appeared on the stoop and Jack straightened. He looked at Hazel. "I should go."

She nodded.

"Hazel?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for coming to get me."

"Of course." She was his best friend.

Jack hesitated still, and Hazel wanted to say something comforting, give him some bright plastic flowers of words, but Jack would see them for what they were. Jack knew how to see things.

Then he put his hand up and squeezed her arm, and then turned toward his house. Hazel stood and watched him disappear inside.

Hazel went to her own front door and walked in, breathing in the smells of home. She called for her mother, but there was no answer. Of course not, her mom had her cla.s.s. Hazel's heart sank a little. She would have liked to see her mom.

She thought about going to the kitchen and getting some food, but she couldn't bear the thought of the extra movements, so she went to her room to lie down on her bed.

Her stuffed animals were still there, sitting against her pillow, and Hazel lay down next to them and put her hand on the bear, then grabbed it and pulled it into her chest. She tucked in a ball on her bed. Her eyes fell on the spot where the Joe Mauer baseball used to be. Maybe she would get Jack another signed ball. It might not be easy, but it had to be easier than this.

Then she noticed the wrapped present on her bed stand. She rolled over to grab it. The gift wrap was familiar-shiny purple paper that her mother had been using for six months. Hazel unwrapped the paper to reveal an old shoe box. She opened up the box and unfolded the tissue paper inside to find a pair of pink ballet shoes.

She blinked and picked up one of the shoes. There was a note in the tissue paper: Hazel-.

A present and a promise.

Love, Mom.

The writing blurred in front of Hazel's eyes. She touched the note with her fingers. She wanted to get up and leave her mom a note, but she could not leave the bed. So Hazel took both slippers and folded them in her arms with the teddy bear and curled back up on the bed. She could see the distant glow from Jack's house coming in the window, and she wondered what he was doing, and if he was okay, and if he'd eaten, and what he'd told his parents. She wondered what things would be like between them now, and what she was going to have to do for them to be normal again. It would be harder to watch over him if they weren't normal, but she would find a way. She wondered if she'd actually want to hang out with Tyler and Bobby at recess. Maybe a little capture the flag would do them all good. Hazel was good at capture the flag. No one took her seriously because she was small and feathered, a strange little dino-bird, but she had a sickle claw and she was not afraid to use it.

Once upon a time, there was a boy named Jack who got lost in the woods. His best friend went after him. Along the way, she had many adventures. She met woodsmen, witches, and wolves. She found her friend in the thrall of a queen who lived in a palace of ice and had a heart to match. She rescued him with the help of a magical object. And they returned home, together, and they lived on, somehow, ever after.

It went something like that, anyway.

She drifted off to sleep thinking that tomorrow, she would call Adelaide and make plans to go over there. This time she would bring her own ballet shoes. She wanted to tell Adelaide and Uncle Martin all about the Snow Queen. They probably wouldn't believe her, not really. She wouldn't believe it herself.

But at least it was a good story.

About the Author.

ANNE URSU is the author of the three middle-grade novels that comprise the Cronus Chronicles trilogy: THE SHADOW THIEVES, THE SIREN SONG, and THE IMMORTAL FIRE. She is also a professor of writing for children at Hamline University and a lifelong Minnesota Twins fan. Anne lives in Minneapolis with her son and three cats. You can visit her online at www.anneursu.com.

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Also by Anne Ursu.

THE CRONUS CHRONICLES:.

Book One: The Shadow Thieves.

Book Two: The Siren Song.

Book Three: The Immortal Fire.

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