“I wasn’t sure you would be. The hedgewitch was pretty angry to lose the Story,” Eleanor said, drawing closer. She had the tote bag over her shoulder, her hand wrapped around the strap.

“My name is Wander for a reason, Eleanor. I don’t like to stay in one place too long. And I have been the world-walker for a very, very long time indeed. It’s time for a new journey.” Wander turned at last and smiled at her. “But that’s not why you’re here. You need my help, don’t you?”

Eleanor nodded. She explained, briefly, what they had decided about Emptying the gray world. “I’ll open the way to the gray world. We’ll drive the People Who Look Away through—Pip and Jack can do that, and Otto is going to work out a few tricks with the hedgewitch, too. But then we have to make sure they’re trapped in there. That’s where you come in. I was thinking you might be able to do something with your moonlight thread. If you can still make it.”

“I can. That trick belongs to me, not the Story,” Wander said. “I should have enough thread left over. Is that all you need from me?”

“That should do it,” Eleanor said. But she hesitated. “Wander. When we were in the Library, the Editor gave me something. Something that belongs to you.”

“Oh?” Wander asked. She folded her hands lightly in front of her.

Eleanor reached into her bag and drew out the book. The Glass-Heart Girl.

Wander stared at it. Eleanor stepped forward. Wander took a half step back. “It’s your story, Wander. The original you.”

“I can see that,” Wander said, her hands still clasped together.

“The Editor gave it to me—yours and my mother’s. I thought you would want it,” Eleanor said. “You could take it. Get your memories back. You could be yourself again.”

Wander shook her head. “Eleanor, I am myself. Not the person I used to be, no—but everyone changes. Some change more than others. I won’t undo what I’ve become.”

“But you would know who you were. You would remember your life,” Eleanor said.

“What life? I was born with backwards hands and a glass heart. I made the mistake of falling in love, and my heart shattered. Why would I want to remember that?”

“But that’s not what happened,” Eleanor said.

Wander’s head tilted curiously. “How do you mean?”

“If you read it—” Eleanor said, holding out the book, but Wander stepped back again as if she were afraid it would bite her.

“Just tell me,” she said. Eleanor had never heard Wander sound afraid, but now she did.