“Why?” Croi looks at her. “Is there a monster I can’t see waiting to eat me?”

The Hag gives her a piercing look in reply. Croi huffs at her in resentment and turns her attention to the gringit-infested tree behind her. The gringits are hanging upside down from the branches, making faces at her. Croi sneers at them when the Hag isn’t looking.

“Croi,” the Hag says, and she immediately comes to attention. “Go, stand in the corridor for a moment.”

Croi narrows her eyes and looks at the Hag suspiciously. After preventing her from entering the corridor, the Hag now ordered her to go there. She hesitates.

“Go!”

Croi takes a breath and walks out of the cover provided by the trees and onto the grass. For a moment, she feels nothing. Then she senses a breeze laving her face, playing with her hair, and ruffling her dress. This breeze is somehow weighted with smells that she cannot identify. It brings a sweetness both to her tongue and to her heart, pricking it awake, making it hurt, hope, and grieve. Her eyes fill and spill over without her permission. Croi’s limbs are heavy, but her insides feel like they’ve been shocked. What’s happening to her?

“Croi,” the Hag calls from the side. “That’s enough. Come back.”

No way. Croi has decided to live in this corridor from now on.

“Croi,” the Hag says again. “I won’t repeat myself.”

Because Croi is a good brownie and fears what the Hag will do to her, she, very reluctantly, returns to where her guardian waits.

“What was that?” she asks the Hag with wide eyes.

“That…” For the first time ever, the Hag seems to be at a loss for words. Her face is still expressionless but her eyes are deep. She clears her throat. “That is the smell of home. Of magick. Of the Otherworld.”

“Hag,” Croi says, following her back to the dwelling. “If the Otherworld is home, what are we doing here? Did you do something bad and were exiled? But if you were exiled, why did you bring me with you? Where is my family? Did you kidnap me?”

She asks the Hag these questions periodically, hoping that one day the Hag will be annoyed enough to answer. This hasn’t happened yet, but Croi hasn’t given up hope. She is confident that one day she’ll anger the Hag into answering.

“Are you sure you can’t help me rescue the stone maid?” Croi asks one more time before they reach the dwelling.

The Hag enters the shelter without replying, and with a sigh, Croi follows her. The flower sprites cavort when they see her, and the air gets heavier with the scent of blossoms.

“Here.” The Hag takes out two books from somewhere on her body and holds them out to Croi.

The brownie tries to figure out where exactly her guardian had been keeping the books. She hadn’t noticed any bulges.

“Croi,” the Hag says. A very faint exasperation colors her voice.