Wunder felt it. He felt it all, but he was tired. He was so tired and he ached. Not just his hands or his back, but everywhere. He ached everywhere.

And so, hidden inside the DoorWay Tree, with his cheek pressed against his knees and his arms wrapped around his shins, with the heart-bird flying and the soft light surrounding him and the white flower clutched in his earth-covered hands, Wunder cried.

He cried and cried and cried.

Chapter 45

“Wake up, Wundie! Wake up!”

Slivers of weak gray light were filtering into the hole in the tree where Wunder was curled. The soft white light was gone, and the wood at his back was rough and hard. His limbs felt tight and heavy as he crawled out, as if he had slept for a long, long time.

Faye was there, her cloak covering a gray sweater dress. Her bangs were pinned back. She didn’t look serene. She didn’t look expressionless. She looked shocked and confused and a little bit afraid.

“What happened to you?” she asked. “You’re covered in mud. You’re—you’re in a tree. A DoorWay Tree! What happened?”

Wunder staggered to his feet and turned to stare up at the tree. He could hardly believe it was still there. It wasn’t possible. It wasn’t rational.

But it was there.

And he knew exactly what to say.

“We did it,” he told Faye.

Faye gaped at him. She pulled her cloak around herself tightly. Then she gazed up at the DoorWay Tree’s delicate white blossoms, and down its black wood to the bumps and knobs of roots burrowing into earth.

“We did it,” she breathed.

“I’m sorry I didn’t wait for you,” Wunder said.

Faye shook her head slowly, without taking her eyes off the tree. “I didn’t know what would happen,” she said. “I knew something would. But I didn’t know what.”

“You were right about Milagros,” Wunder told her. “You were right about miracles.”

He crossed to the lowest branch. Standing on tiptoes, he was able to pluck one of the white flowers. It felt warm in his hands even though the sun wasn’t visible yet.

“This is for you,” he said, holding it out to his friend.

“Wundie. Listen,” Faye said. “That’s sweet. But I don’t really see you like that.”

Wunder laughed. “For you and for your grandfather. What was his name? I’m sorry I never asked.”

“Daniel,” Faye told him. “Daniel Young-Ho Lee.”

“For you and Daniel Young-Ho Lee,” Wunder said.

Faye took the flower. Her fingertips brushed each petal, one by one, then she leaned in and inhaled. When she looked back up, she didn’t seem confused or afraid anymore.

She seemed, for the first time since he’d known her, serene.

“What happened in there?” she asked, pointing to the hollow that Wunder had come out of.

“I’m not sure how to explain it,” Wunder said. “But she was there. She’s not really gone. Well, maybe she is. But she’s—she’s still here too. With me.”