The door opened, and Fifer’s face peered out. “Hi,” she said stonily.

“I’m in a hurry.” Thisbe pushed the door impatiently, but Fifer’s foot blocked it from being able to open wide enough. “Fifer, what are you doing?”

“I—I moved your stuff out,” Fifer said. Her eyes were red rimmed. “Just like you wanted. There was an empty room down the hall—I piled everything outside. You can’t miss it.”

Thisbe stared. “Fife,” she said, and brought her hands to her forehead in dismay. “What the— Why? Are you serious?”

“You said you wanted your own room. I figured I’d help.” Fifer crossed her arms and blinked furiously to keep the tears back.

Thisbe let out a frustrated noise, then backed out of the doorway, defeated. She looked all the way down to the end of the hallway. Sure enough, there sat a messy pile of her things. “You picked a terrible time to be awful,” Thisbe said in disgust. “Check your blackboard.” She turned and ran down the hallway.

Fifer frowned and closed the door.

As Thisbe approached her new room, the door swung open, sensing her presence. But she didn’t go inside. Instead she rummaged through her stuff, searching frantically for the ancestor broth that she’d swiped. She’d given one bottle to Rohan and kept the other one for herself. But where was it? She checked all of her pockets and treasure boxes and dresser drawers. Finally she uncovered it from the mess and held it up. The liquid glistened inside. “There,” she whispered. “Thank goodness.”

Leaving everything strewn about the hallway and the door to her room standing open, Thisbe took the vial of broth and ran back the way she had come, past her old room, where Fifer skulked inside, no doubt feeling terrible once she learned about the Revinir’s approach.

Thisbe felt a twinge, but she hardened to it. Fifer had been mean. Sure, she was probably hurting. But she hadn’t needed to retaliate in this ridiculous way like a child. And now Fifer was probably regretting it, for she certainly couldn’t have known that the Revinir was coming for Thisbe.

“She’ll be sorry soon enough,” Thisbe muttered. “But right now she’s not my problem.” Breathing hard, Thisbe reached Drock on the lawn and held up the vial. “Here it is. Do you really think it will help drown out the roar?”

“It seems logical,” said Drock. “And maybe it’ll give you even more insight into the history of our land.”