Barclay grimaced.

“The fire isn’t burning you,” he commented, more in disgust than awe.

“It’s my fire,” Viola replied, as though that was reason enough to defy nature.

“And this is my knife.” Barclay brandished the small blade he used to slice particularly stubborn mushrooms. “But I could still cut myself with it.”

“You’d cut yourself with your own knife? That doesn’t seem smart.”

“No, I’m just saying—”

“It’s Lore. Or magic, as you probably call it. But since we’re going to Sycomore, a town full of Lore, you should start calling it Lore and start talking like a Lore Keeper. Not some Elsie townsboy.”

“But I am a townsboy,” Barclay said, and he was proud of it. And he didn’t know what Elsie meant.

“And the towns aren’t very nice to Lore Keepers, are they?” Viola gave him a pointed look. “You hate Lore. You hate Lore Keepers. With that attitude, what Lore Keeper is going to want to help you? Not everyone is as kindhearted as me, you know.”

“Kindhearted? It’s your fault that this happened to me!”

She ignored his comment and began tying the food they had gathered—mushrooms, thanks to Barclay, and a rabbit, thanks to Viola—around a spit.

“I just think it would be a good idea for you to learn more about Lore Keepers before you go marching into Sycomore and making demands.”

Barclay didn’t make demands. At least, he didn’t to anyone other than Selby, since Selby was supposed to listen to him.

“I’m going to get more water,” he grumbled, snatching both of their canteens and storming downhill toward a stream.

Mitzi followed him, crouching behind bushes and watching him menacingly. He fought down his panic. Viola didn’t like him much, but she wouldn’t let her Beast kill him, would she?

Then Mitzi shook her butt and pounced on a pine cone. She tumbled onto her back, gnawing it. Barclay didn’t know whether or not to feel silly for being scared. After all, Mitzi was a dragon.

While he filled the canteens, a wind blew and shook the trees overhead, sending a cloud of violet leaves fluttering down. On one side they looked like ordinary leaves—albeit purple ones. On the other there were beady black eyes and hundreds of spindly legs. Each stem was actually a long mouth, like a leech.

Barclay shrieked and swatted them away as they tumbled around him. Mitzi, startled by his noise, took off flying toward her Keeper.

“What’s wrong?” Viola called from atop the hill. “You scared Mitzi.”

Barclay sprinted up and cowered at Viola’s side. “Those leaves are actually Beasts.”

“Yes, they’re called Kafersafts, and they’re totally harmless.”

“No Beasts are harmless.”

“Some are.” Viola pried Barclay’s hand off her shoulder and sat him down. “This is exactly why you need a lesson. You’re clueless. Now you’re going to think every leaf, twig, and blade of grass is out to kill you.”

“No I won’t,” he shot back, eyeing the crinkled brown leaves around them suspiciously.