Wander knelt among the tree roots at the edge of the orchard. Her eyes were closed, and gleaming shards floated around her like a cloud of tiny stars. She had pooled the moonlight beside her on the grass and was twisting one end of it with her long, elegant fingers, spinning it into silver thread. She hummed to herself as she worked, and the sound made goose bumps prickle along Eleanor’s arms.

“Wander?” Eleanor said. The woman looked up but didn’t pause in her work. She had to turn her arms out to wrap the thread properly, since her hands were backward, palms facing the opposite way from how they should.

“Hello, dear child,” Wander said in a voice that hummed like a tuning fork. She finished spinning the thread, holding it looped around one hand, and rose. “Come help me with this, will you?”

Eleanor glanced at Jack, who gave her an encouraging nod. She stepped forward, uncertain what kind of help Wander could mean. The woman handed her the skein of moonlight-thread. It was cool and slippery, and Eleanor fumbled to get a good hold on it.

Wander reached into the pocket of her gown, the color of dusk, and drew out a little leather case that held a long wooden needle. She threaded the end of the moonlight through it and motioned to Eleanor to follow her, five steps out from the orchard. Humming once again, she started to move the needle back and forth, as if sewing fabric. The thread followed, stitches appearing in the air where the needle passed, though there was nothing to hold them up. Eleanor watched in wordless wonder.

“Traveling through the Wending’s roads is a delicate business,” Wander said. When she had appeared four days ago, it had been at the end of a road that appeared out of nowhere, running straight through Pip’s house. “It sometimes leaves a tear. And if you don’t mend it quickly, you’re likely to incur the anger of the Wending’s guardians.”

“Guardians?” Eleanor asked, alarmed. “What kind of guardians?”

“Those ones,” Wander said calmly, gesturing, as a low growl sounded to the left.

Eleanor turned with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Two

Two lithe dogs with pointed muzzles stood near the edge of the pine forest that surrounded the town of Eden Eld. One of them was bone white with long, silky fur. The other was pitch-black, with short fur that made it look like a silhouette against the forest. They sniffed the air, eyes fixed on Jack, Wander, and Eleanor.

Wander finished sewing up the air and snipped the end of the thread with a pair of tiny silver scissors. “There we go,” she said loudly, as if to the hounds. “No damage done.”