Doubt that, Charlie thought as Allie stepped aside and she pushed past. She was not going to ask what Allie saw.

The mirror reflected a solid sheet of gold and a set of antlers—twelve point buck. If the gold represented Jack, and it always had, the mirror might be anticipating the ritual. Or warning her about the ritual. Or being deliberately obscure just for shits and giggles. She rested her hand against the glass, and a reflection of a hand rose out of the gold to meet it. It wasn’t a reflection of her hand, but Charlie had too much on her plate to identify it now.

“Are you going after Jack?”

She wondered what reflection Allie saw. “Going after Jack? No.”

And because it was the truth, Allie believed her. “Then you need to stay and . . .”

“Let her go, Alysha.” Auntie Gwen descended the last three steps and took hold of Allie’s arm. “Charlotte is clearly heading out to attempt . . . something.” When their eyes met, Charlie wondered how many pieces Auntie Gwen had managed to gather up and put together behind that . . . something. “You know you can’t hold her.”

“Yadda yadda Wild,” Allie sighed. “If you love something, let it go.” Auntie Gwen met Charlie’s gaze and jerked her head toward the door.

Charlie leaned in and brushed a kiss against Allie’s cheek, then shifted her grip on the guitar case and headed out into the courtyard. It occurred to her that she hadn’t told them how she’d left Jack’s room. And they hadn’t asked. Gales weren’t interested in the mechanics of leaving.

“Is she going Wild?” Allie’s voice slipped out around the edge of the closing door.

Charlie was gone before Auntie Gwen answered.

She stepped out of the Wood in one of the isolated, rocky areas of the park.

When she traveled into the past, she traveled through place as well as time. From Calgary back ten days to Cape Breton. From Cape Breton back three hours to Vermont. This time . . . She fought down the nearly hysterical desire to laugh and tried again. This time, no matter how far she traveled in time, she wanted to remain in the park because the park would exist as long as her family did. The trees she planned to step between would grow and die and new trees would grow, but the bones of the earth wouldn’t change. This place, this specific three square meters of alluvial soil would continue to exist, as it had always existed, long enough for her to save it.

She was going to save it. All of it. All of them. She wiped damp palms on her jeans. Everyone.

If she could follow a song into the past, then she should be able to follow a song into the future.

“You know the future happened.” Jack’s voice in memory.