I don’t know if it’s the words or if she suddenly catches my familiar scent, but slowly, shaking, the fox limps out from the thorns, favoring one of her back paws. She curls close to me, compressing the layers of my dress until she’s pressed against my ankles. I can feel the frantic thrum of her tiny heartbeat through her fur.

Another spear whistles in the air, landing far to our right. We’re running out of time, I realize, as a shower of arrows follows. Most of them go wide, thunking into tree trunks or sailing past, but one finds its mark.

Olani cries out, buckling with pain. Her hands go to her hip, to the quickly spreading red stain soaking through her trousers.

Raze catches her as she staggers, supporting her weight. Fear makes his voice crack. “Olani!”

“I’m fine,” she grits out. “Just...get us out of here.”

I have magic. There must be something I can do to get us out of this, but I don’t think summoning fire or lightning will have much effect. After all, the faeries have magic, too. I wish I could just step into the Mortal Realm, tie a line around us all, and pull until we’re back where we’re supposed to be—but even I know only faeries can walk between the worlds at will.

We press tightly together. Raze is at my back, mumbling something encouraging to Olani, who breathes unevenly through the pain. Isolde shivers anxiously at my feet. We don’t have a way out, but at least we’ll all be together as we face down the hunt.

I can fix this.

The thought is sudden and clear and not quite mine. It comes from something deeper, something icy running deep below the surface of my mind. Something that’s getting more and more familiar. It doesn’t matter where it comes from, not when we’re this close to death. It doesn’t matter what price it demands from me later, because if I do nothing, there won’t be a later.

I accept. I open the door to that thought, let it trickle up from its deep, dark hiding place. I have a sudden, vivid image of myself, twisting my own magic together with that in the trees, shaping it into the form I need. Making a portal.

My heart is so worn out from all the terror and anxiety and running, but it still skips a beat with traitorous anticipation.

Normally, I close my eyes to focus, but this time I watch every movement as I hold my hands out. The movements are unfamiliar, sweeping, like conducting an orchestra, but somehow I feel like I’ve done this a thousand times before. I let out a breath, and the magic rises in my blood, sings at my fingertips, flows into the trees. I pull it back to me, drawing magic from the trees with it. Twining them together. Shaping them, just like I saw in my head moments ago.

I think of the Mortal’s Keep and the mysterious ruins that hide it, of the Western Range’s sharp peaks, and of our mission. Something tugs in my chest, straining, and for a second I think I’m not going to be able to do it.