That was another problem. What were they supposed to do with these slain dragons? Maybe Dev had ideas. But that was the least of her worries. Fifer looked over her shoulder and saw Dev inching his way across the pavers toward her. The living dragons didn’t seem to care a whit about him now. She motioned for him to come.

“Is it very bad?” Dev asked.

“Yes,” said Fifer. “It’s terrible. But there’s a chance I can restore her. When it first happened, I thought she was dead for good. But now that I’ve had a chance to think, I remember other statues being brought back through a specific kind of spell. Unfortunately, I don’t know how to do it. But I can find out, if we only had another send spell.”

“Did Florence drop the sack of supplies?”

“I don’t know.”

“I can help look.”

“I asked her to try to drop them through the roof holes. Do you want to start there?”

Dev seemed relieved to do something. “Yes. I’ll let you know if I find them.”

“When you’re done, come back down. I’ll need some help dragging pieces of Florence to put her back together. She’s pretty heavy.” Fifer hesitated, noticing for the first time that Dev had his shirt on and buttoned today. “How are your burns feeling?”

Dev nodded. “Much better. But I’ll be careful.” He hesitated. “I hope she’ll be okay.”

“Me too.” Fifer pushed the two pieces of Florence’s head together, being careful not to pinch any grass in between them. She found smaller pieces of her head ornament and laid them in the places they needed to go. Florence’s arms and legs were all broken into multiple pieces. The quiver was miraculously in one piece, though the bow was hard to find, and the arrows were scattered about. The quiver was way too heavy for Fifer to lift alone. She peered inside and saw the spare robe tucked down inside, unharmed.

The two dragons didn’t seem to have any problem with Florence now that she was broken into pieces and not moving. But what would they do if Fifer was able to bring her back to life? Would they attack her all over again? They’d have to cross that bridge when they came to it. But for now, there was no bringing her back to life if Fifer couldn’t figure out how to make all the pieces come back together.

“Oh, Thisbe,” Fifer moaned as she trudged through the overgrowth carrying a hunk of Florence’s arm, “I really hope things are going better for you than they are for me.”

Just then Dev emerged from the palace empty-handed. Fifer looked up expectantly, then deflated when she saw he hadn’t found the supplies. “No luck?” Fifer asked him.