The words shouldn’t have stung like they did. Not just because Viola was only teasing, but because Dullshire had treated Barclay terribly—even before they’d banished him. But Barclay would always care about some of his companions there. Like Master Pilzmann, the local mushroom farmer. Or Mrs. Havener, the librarian who’d lent him books about adventure. And most importantly, Dullshire was where Barclay’s parents had lived.

And where they were buried.

The Legendary Beast of the Woods, Gravaldor, had killed Barclay’s parents when he’d destroyed the town almost eight years ago. Dullshire was wrong about a lot of things, especially Beasts. But Barclay also understood why they were afraid, and so it was hard to blame them for it.

Not wanting to explain his messy feelings to Viola, Barclay trudged across the shore. On the docks, Tadg and Runa were in a fierce debate with another sailor. Though Barclay could understand Tadg (“I’m not being rude, old man!” he shouted, then rudely gestured with his hands), the fisherman’s words were foreign to him. His voice lilted up and down, as though the words swelled like the sea. But judging from his angry tone, the conversation wasn’t going well.

A chilly breeze tore across the beach. Resting nearby on the sand was a ship with snapped masts and shredded sails, and Barclay ducked behind it as shelter from the wind. Then, miserably, he took in his bleak surroundings. Everywhere was wet sand and muddy sheep wool and scratchy burlap. Seagulls circled overhead, their shadows looping across the dunes. Sinister storm clouds gathered behind them.

This time last year, Dullshire had just finished their week-long Midspring celebration. The townsfolk had dyed eggs bright colors and hung them from the tree branches, which all bloomed with pink and orange flowers. Barclay had even convinced Master Pilzmann to get festive, and so they’d strung mushroom garlands across all their windows.

This year, Dullshire celebrated without him.

You’re a Lore Keeper now, Barclay reminded himself, and the thought comforted him—a little. Because Barclay wanted to be a Lore Keeper more than anything. He wanted to protect towns like Dullshire and Knunx, even if they never thanked him for it.

Besides, Dullshire didn’t want him anyway. They’d barely ever wanted him—before he was a Lore Keeper, he was just a scrappy orphan who accidentally broke too many rules. Barclay might’ve had a few fond memories of his home, but that didn’t mean he’d ever belonged there.

Tadg stalked across the beach, his fists clenched. Barclay watched from afar as he yelled at some unsuspecting sheep, who paid him no mind.