A Stoolip top.

Soren’s eyes drooped. He swayed, but he didn’t fall.

Barclay reached into his pockets and grabbed several more. He stuck the mushrooms all over Soren’s mixture of scales and skin and fur, even while Soren thrashed against him. After several moments Soren let out one final shudder and collapsed onto the dirt, unconscious.

Viola rushed to Barclay’s and Tadg’s sides. Barclay winced, holding his arm limply.

“You did it!” she breathed. “But he bit you—how bad are you hurt?”

Tadg shook his head vigorously. “There’s no time for that! Gravaldor will leave if we don’t—”

“If we don’t what, Tadg?” Viola snapped. “How are we supposed to stop him? We need to get Barclay back to—”

“I agree with him,” Barclay cut in. “If we don’t stop Gravaldor, there might not be a Sycomore to go back to.”

But Barclay didn’t have any idea how to stop him. He couldn’t stop a storm, or a blizzard, or a drought. For as many silly rules as he had broken, the first rule he had ever been taught was to be afraid of the Woods. And the heart of the Woods wasn’t this cavern—the heart of the Woods was the Beast living inside of it.

Above them, the sky darkened to a stormy gray, and fierce winds tore leaves and twigs from the trees around them. It felt like the Woods was preparing for battle.

While Barclay, Tadg, and Viola crouched together, Root staggered over to the three of them and howled. It was not his usual howl to summon storms—it was far less ferocious. This howl was the sort of a wolf trying to call to his pack, but although Lufthunds might resemble wolves, they were not pack animals. Who, then, was he calling to?

Gravaldor didn’t seem to hear. He wrenched his head up, and the plating along his back rose out, making him look—if possible—even larger.

Shoulders bent against the gusts, Root pressed closer to the Legendary Beast. He dug his claws into the earth and howled again.

This time the trees around them bristled and straightened upright, as though snapping out of a trance.

Gravaldor lowered himself back onto all fours, but he did not crouch for attack. He stood tall. Root might not have had the power to summon him, but Root was part of the Woods. And when the Woods called, Gravaldor answered.

Still, with the trees pointing in the sky like spears, with the wind still dropping debris from above, the Woods felt wild and dangerous. But Root had changed something in Gravaldor, as though he had reminded Gravaldor who he really was, just like Root once had for Barclay. So while Viola and Tadg continued to back away, Barclay stepped determinedly to Root’s side. He rested his hand on Root’s head, and though it was too loud to speak, he ran his fingers through Root’s fur and said, “I’m sorry I let you down.”

Barclay didn’t think Root had heard him, but he still stood beside him for several minutes—until the noise and wind around them faded at last.