Twelve stared, fascinated, her expression mirrored on Six’s face.

“That’s it?” she asked as the moxie sat back. “That was . . . magic?” Widge’s bright-eyed chirp reflected her wonder.

Foxpaw nodded, smiling. “If it works, it will do so quickly,” he added, wrapping a clean dressing around Five’s head. “We’ll know soon.”

Six nodded, his pale face desperately hopeful. “Thank you.”

Five’s eyelids drooped. He seemed exhausted after fighting all of them. Foxpaw kept a close eye on him as he built a small fire in the snow.

“Do you really think your friend can help us find the goblin tracks again?” Twelve asked, warming her hands over the flames. A restless feeling itched through her, reminding her that every second they delayed, Seven was being whisked farther away.

“Not a friend,” Foxpaw said slowly, sitting beside her. “There’s a very ancient tree here, one of the forest’s Heart Trees. Oakhammer. He was planted by my ancestors and sometimes he remembers his allegiance to us.”

Twelve thought of the forbidding faces in the trunks and shuddered, despite the warmth. Widge nudged her cheek in agreement.

Foxpaw shrugged apologetically. “He’s always unpredictable, and now things are changing in the forest, which may make him even more so. It’s not as safe here as it once was.”

Twelve couldn’t help but snort a laugh, gazing pointedly up at the empty web. “Safe?”

“For those with enough respect to learn its ways? Yes,” Foxpaw said firmly. His tone chastened Twelve enough to stop her laughing.

“How does the forest change?” Dog asked, keeping his voice down so as not to disturb Five.

“There’s a balance here,” Foxpaw said, “between light and dark. This place has always been a battleground for them, but, since what you call the Dark War, the balance has been maintained. Now it’s shifting again, as it did then.”

His words were an icy breeze and Twelve shivered under them. Dog whined, a soft, pained sound in the back of his throat.

“He’s waking up!” Six cried suddenly. He gazed wild-eyed at Foxpaw as Five groaned and shifted beside him.

They hurried over and Foxpaw laid a small hand on Five’s brow. “His fever is dropping,” he said with relief. “We’ll leave the dressing on for now, but I think it’s safe to say the wound is healing and your friend is recovering.” He sat back on his heels, looking inordinately pleased with himself.

Twelve, Six, and Dog huddled around Five, hardly daring to breathe as his eyelashes fluttered and finally opened. For a moment, his eyes seemed unfocused, then they settled on each face in turn.

“What are you all staring at?” he croaked, looking surprised. “Have I got food on my face or something?”