This wasn’t possible. She had buried Poppy. Buried her with everyone else. Yet here she stood, her dark hair floating around her face, eyes mischievous, her expression heartbreakingly wary but hopeful.

“Are you all right?” Poppy asked, tilting her head slightly. The voice was so familiar it hit Twelve like a slap.

“I . . .” Twelve shook her head. Words refused to come.

Poppy’s small shoulders slumped.

“Why don’t you talk to me anymore, Starling? I . . . I’ve missed you.” Poppy scuffed the snow with her toe, shoving her hands into the pockets of her favorite blue dress. Her lower lip wobbled dangerously.

“How are you here?” Twelve gasped. Each word and gesture from the little girl tore at her like a sword through riversilk.

“I don’t know.” Poppy shrugged, sniffing and looking up. “I was just at home, then there was lots of shouting, then darkness for a long time. When I woke up, I was here.”

Hope, intoxicating hope, began to pulse through Twelve, flooding her limbs with a delicious warmth. No one understood the Frozen Forest; no one had even managed to map it. Impossible things happened here, so why couldn’t Poppy be one of those things?

“So . . . will you play with me?” Poppy asked, her eyes wide.

Twelve nodded mutely, afraid to blink in case the vision of her sister disappeared. On her shoulder, Widge patted her cheek with his paw, trying to get her attention. She brushed him away gently.

The dimpled grin that Poppy gave her was like sunshine. With a rush of joy, Twelve saw her life open up before her. She would leave the Hunting Lodge, of course, and together she and Poppy would return to the grasslands to build a new life for themselves. Twelve’s fighting skills would be useful—maybe she could hire herself out to other villages. . . .

“You’re not even listening to me!” Poppy cried, stamping her foot.

“I am, I just—just can’t believe it’s you,” Twelve stuttered. “I thought you were dead. No, I knew you were dead.” Her voice broke and Widge shivered. “I buried you.”

Poppy shifted, looking uncertain for a moment. “But I’m not,” she said. “I’m right here!” She held out her hand to Twelve. “I’ve so much to show you. I found a veiled-fox den yesterday and there are two kits in there!”

The excitement in her voice was infectious and Twelve reached for her hand. The younger girl drew back with a yelp. “What are those?” she cried, pointing an accusing finger at Twelve’s axes.

“My axes,” Twelve explained, “so I can protect us.”

Poppy shook her head decisively. “You can’t bring them,” she said. “And you don’t need them anyway, not if you’re with me. I know the right paths.”