Blistering agony lanced through the side of Meg’s bare foot. She yelped in surprise but couldn’t shift her full weight before her entire leg went numb.
Flailing and unbalanced, she toppled sideways off the boulder and face-planted in a mud puddle.
Why was it always a mud puddle?
Meg came up coughing and sputtering, brown water dripping off the loose stands of long golden hair that had escaped her coiled braids.
A squeaking, wheezing sound made her freeze.
Oh, no.
Flat on the grass, she sprawled at eye level with a round, furry face, cheeks ballooning on either side of a stubby snout. The creature’s mouth gaped open slightly in a way that transformed its teddy-bear expression joyful—if not a bit manic looking.
It would have been cute, but Meg knew what it was.
A kushmaut. That’s what the Josharons called them.
Literally: Death with a smile.
The creature’s wide, glassy eyes seared into her like flaming daggers, its prehensile tail waving like a flag behind its ungainly body.
As she stared, unmoving, the kushmaut raised a collar of spines around its neck. In the dim light of the forest, each quill shimmered with venom.
The venom from the first strike had stripped the feeling from her whole right leg. If she took another hit, she’d be dead in minutes.
For adorable fuzzy creatures capable of killing people horribly, at least they were polite about it.
Her fingers fisted in the wet grass on either side of the mud puddle. Of all the ways she could have died, this one didn’t even make the top twenty.
Danny would never let her live it down. And Jenny—
“Meg?”
Jenny!
“What are you doing on the ground?” Jenny laughed as she skipped toward her big sister and stopped short, gasping in delight. “Is that a kushmaut?”
“Don’t move, Jenny,” Meg whispered. “Don’t even breathe.”
Of everyone living in Rainbow Valley, why did it have to be Jenny who found her? Jenny didn’t have a single self-preservation instinct. The girl legitimately believed she could befriend every creature in the Andarian Dimension.
Jenny knelt beside her, heedless of how the muddy water soaked the pastel fabric of her skirts, and tilted her head to look into the kushmaut’s furry face. “You’re so cute!”
“Jenny, I’m serious.”
“That’s not news, Meg.” Jenny dug around in the leather satchel draped from her shoulder and withdrew a handful of amber-colored cloudberries. “Here you go, sweetie. You must be starving.”
The kushmaut went rigid and sniffed at Jenny’s hand. Then with a squeak, the creature snatched the berries out of Jenny’s palm and started eating. Three more squeaks came from the boulder, and three more kushmaut scurried through the grass to join the feast.
They were smaller and faster, and Jenny cooed at them as she turned her satchel upside down to empty all the cloudberries she had for them.
“It’s a mama and three babies, Meg! Aren’t they sweet?”
Meg gawked at her little sister as the furry psychos decimated the pile of cloudberries with extreme prejudice. “Sweet?”
Jenny beamed.
“It nearly killed me, Jenny.”
“That’s because you scared her.”
“How is this my fault?” Meg pushed herself up and winced at the numbness in her leg.
Jenny reached out to pet the mother kushmaut.
Why? Why would she try to touch that awful creature? Because she was Jenny Mitchell, and she could be friends with any living creature that moved and breathed—including the ones with a hundred venomous spines hiding in their fur.
“Jenny, don’t—”
Jenny paused and let the furry creature sniff her hand and fingers, and then Jenny scratched the animal’s round ears. Squeaking joyously, the animal wrapped its arms around Jenny’s wrist and purred in contentment.
“See? You’re not so scary.” Jenny giggled. “She was just protecting her babies, Meg. You’d do exactly the same thing.”
Meg rolled her eyes.
Why was she even surprised? Jenny could bring a flesh-eating saber-toothed tiger to a tea party. She could even get it to wear a hat and eat crustless cucumber sandwiches. So befriending a venomous living teddy bear was easy.
But that was what Jenny was good at—making friends. It was her not-so-secret superpower.
Meg’s only power was finding mud puddles.
With a hiss of discomfort, Meg put all her weight on her left knee and glanced around for something to use as a crutch. Maybe she could roll to the side of the boulder and pull herself up. She could always drag herself there.
It was just a question of how ridiculous she wanted to look while doing it.
She rolled over, numb right leg flopping like the noddles they’d had for dinner last night. She gripped the damp blades of grass and hauled herself toward the boulder.
Mud and grass left vibrant stains on her training tunic. Forget the threat from the kushmaut. How was she going to explain the state of her training tunic to Velanna?
“Meg?”
Meg paused, arm outstretched and reaching for another tuft of grass. Jenny stood over her, one eyebrow arched and sun sparkling in her blonde hair.
“Yes, Jenny?”
“What’cha doing?”
Meg blinked up at her. “I’m—standing up.”
Jenny glanced back to the feasting family of kushmaut and then at the grass Meg had uprooted in her quest to reach the boulder.
“Did Velanna teach you to stand up differently than a normal person? Because that’s not how I stand up.”
“I can do it myself.” Meg grabbed hold of a tuft of grass and pulled herself closer to the boulder.
Jenny heaved a sigh and stepped in front of her, holding her hand down in Meg’s face.
Meg scowled at Jenny’s hand.
“Oh, hey, little sister.” Jenny lowered her voice and rocked her shoulders back and forth. “Since you’re here and have two legs that are working, could you help me stand up?”
Meg glared at her.
“Hi, Meg, my big sister who I love so much! Of course, I’ll help you. Because I adore you.” Jenny thrust her hand in Meg’s face again.
“I don’t sound like that.”
“You sound exactly like that.” Jenny shook her hand in front of Meg’s eyes. “Why are you so stubborn?”
Meg lifted her gaze and regarded her sister’s expectant face, the upturned lips and raised eyebrows and sparkling dark blue eyes. Jenny meant well, but she could never understand. Not really. No one could.
Meg forced a smile. “I’m not stubborn. I just know what I’m doing.” She took Jenny’s hand and allowed her sister to pull her to her feet.
The instant Meg put weight on her right leg, her knee gave way. Jenny laughed, a bright twinkling sound in the dense embrace of the forest, and wrapped her arms around Meg to hold her upright.
Meg clutched Jenny’s narrow shoulders and pretended her hands weren’t shaking. The more she pretended to be fine, the better she was at convincing others that it was true.
Her leg was only numb. Maybe it burned a little bit. Come to think of it, maybe it burned a lot. But at least she wasn’t dead.
Actually, not being dead at the hands of a venomous teddy bear was a huge relief. That would have been the worst way to go, if she were being honest. How did you die? Death by teddy bear. Worst death ever. Meg would have to check, but she couldn’t remember a single story of any Andai Warrior ever meeting his or her match with an adorable venom-spewing furball.
It was a good thing Jenny came along.
Jenny. Her cute little sister who was more adorable than the kushmaut and certainly more adept at surviving in the forest than Meg.
That probably should have told Meg all she needed to know about how ready she was to even be an Andai Warrior.
“Come on.” Jenny helped her hobble to one of the smaller rocks nestled around the base of the boulder.
Meg sank to the rock with a grimace she couldn’t conceal.
“How bad did it get you?” Jenny knelt and started rolling up the hem of Meg’s trouser leg.
“It’s really okay, Jenny.”
Jenny paused as soon as she’d gotten a look at Meg’s ankle and calf. “Uh-huh.” She grabbed the back of Meg’s heel and held her leg up straight.
Meg blinked at the hives and rash that had broken out on her skin. “Oh.”
“Oh.” Jenny lowered her leg and rolled Meg’s trousers down again. “Let’s go back to Aushadha Village. They just brought in a harvest of winter cherry root. I’ll make you a salve.”
Jenny looped her arm around Meg’s lower back and helped her stand, and together they started back through the forest toward the cheerful central fire of Aushadha Village.
“I have a question.” Jenny announced brightly.
“That’s not news, Jenny,” Meg snickered.
“What were you even doing out here?” Jenny smiled up at her sweetly.
Meg turned away from her. “I didn’t know I had to ask permission.”
Jenny groaned with an exaggerated shoulder shrug. “Meg, you’re so dramatic.”
“I am not.”
“I’m just saying, it takes some pretty special talent to end up face to face with a kushmaut.”
“That’s me. Super talented.”
Jenny stopped walking, and Meg jolted, tipping sideways and nearly taking them both down.
“Why are you stopping?” Meg scowled at her.
“I want you to answer my question.” Jenny’s smile remained in place. “You were out here training, weren’t you?”
It was a typical Jenny expression. Entirely authentic, without a hint of meanness or irritation. But as solid as Celtican steel and twice as unyielding.
Meg braced herself on Jenny’s shoulder. “So what if I was?”
Jenny chewed on her lower lip. “I thought—you weren’t supposed to train by yourself. Velanna always says we’re stronger together.”
Yes, Velanna did say that frequently, and most of the time she meant it. But it didn’t apply to every situation. Sometimes you really were better off alone, and as far as Meg was concerned, this was one of those times.
Of course, Velanna would have come if Meg had asked her. She would have been more than happy to critique Meg’s form. That was what Velanna was good at, and she had a right to be. She was the only living Andai Master left after Celtica’s Great War.
But learning an ancient sword style from your adoptive alien mother took a level of patience Meg wasn’t sure she had.
“I have a lot to do to catch up,” Meg said softly. “There’s so much to learn, Jenny, and I just want to do my best.”
She was so far behind. Most students of Andaiku started training at age three or four, but Meg hadn’t begun until she was seven. If she wanted to become an Andai Warrior, she had to speed up her training, and that wouldn’t happen if she didn’t push herself.
Jenny pursed her lips. “Are you trying to compete with Tzaitel?”
Meg scowled. “No.”
Oh, she’d answered that too quickly. So, yes, maybe she had a bit of a rivalry with Velanna’s blood daughter, but that sort of competition was healthy, wasn’t it? It would spur Meg on to greater challenges.
“Because you know if you try to compete with Tzaitel, she’s probably going to win.”
“You’re so good for my self-esteem, Jenny.”
Jenny giggled. “I only mean she’s sort of been at it longer than you have.” Jenny poked her. “Like about a hundred years more?”
Meg grumbled. “I know how old she is.”
Jenny tightened her hold. “I know you do, but sometimes I think you forget how young you are.”
Meg wrapped her fingers in the soft fabric at Jenny’s shoulder. “Well, at least I’m not as young as you.”
Jenny stuck out her tongue, and Meg bopped her on the nose.
The peaceful sounds of the forest circled them, birds singing, wind whispering, treetops brushing together in the hushed language of pine needles and spruce fronds.
Jenny didn’t look at her again, but Meg could feel her unease in the set of her shoulders and the tension of her clenched jaw. It wasn’t fair to her.
They walked a few more steps together before Meg heaved a sigh.
“Would it make you feel better if I said I wasn’t training?”
Jenny frowned in disapproval. “Is that the truth?”
“It was just some balancing exercises.” Meg held up her hand. “I promise. I’m working on leg strengthening and balance, and that’s it. It’s not actual Andaiku training.”
“You promise?”
Meg forced the smile again. “I promise.”
Jenny nodded happily and hugged Meg’s waist.
It wasn’t a lie. It was the truth. Just not the whole truth. Velanna had criticized her balance and recommended a series of leg strengthening exercises. Velanna just hadn’t instructed her to perform them on top of a boulder. Meg had made that addition herself.
After all, the higher the risk, the greater the reward. And she knew her limits.
Supporting each other, Meg and Jenny walked down the path toward the Josharon village hidden in the deep forest. She breathed in the dusty scent of disturbed earth and grass, the sweet clean air, the ever-growing aroma of coconut milk and vibrant spices.
They’d get back in time to eat dinner, most likely. Maybe if they were lucky, one of the village elders would have made some extra korma curry that they were willing to share.
A deafening crack of thunder sent them both diving for the grass, brilliant white light tearing across the sky. Meg threw herself over Jenny, covering her head with her hands.
Trembling, Jenny peered between Meg’s fingers. “What are you doing?”
“Hush.” Meg kept Jenny covered and lifted her head, peering around them, looking for threats or any sign of danger. But there was nothing.
“Meg?” Jenny’s voice trembled. “Was that thunder?”
Meg craned her neck and squinted through the thick canopy. Brilliant blue sky shone through the shifting patches of leaves and branches.
“If it was thunder, it’s not from a storm,” Meg murmured.
“It sounded like thunder.” Jenny sat up as Meg rocked back on her heels.
“But.” Meg stood slowly, scanning over the summer-blue heavens. “Where are the clouds?” The Andarian Dimension saw some unusual things, but not even Rainbow Valley had ever had a thunderstorm without clouds.
Motion in the treetops caught Meg’s gaze.
“Meg?” Jenny called.
Meg pressed her hand against the rough bark of a redwood tree to support herself, eyes pinned on a spot overhead in the forest. A patch of undulating air. It shimmered like heat waves or like the ancient glass in the windows of Prism Castle.
“Jenny.” Meg pointed to the spot just inside the forest, twenty feet up the side of a spreading redwood.
The air wavered and shivered, pinpricks of light sparkling at the center of the disturbance.
Jenny got to her feet and took Meg’s elbow. “What is it?”
Meg’s stomach turned over. The dryness of her mouth tasted foul. Jenny wouldn’t remember what a rip in the interdimensional barrier looked like. She’d been too young when the one ten years ago opened in front of them and dragged them unwillingly down its black throat.
With a shockwave powerful enough blast them with leaves and twigs, the shimmering patch of air split apart. As though invisible claws ripped reality itself in two, and a churning maw of shadow and lightning opened as though it would devour the tree tops.
The portal thrummed with enough power to raise the hair on Meg’s arms and neck, static electricity crackling all around her.
The roiling tear in the fabric of the world shuddered and shook, its edges turning translucent, and dropped a figure out of its yawning mouth.
Jenny gasped at Meg’s shoulder. “Meg!”
The figure hit the ground with a loud thump. Jenny clung to Meg’s arm, mouth open and eyes wide. Meg reached back and held her still. With an interdimensional rip that size, it could spit anything else out. They needed to wait, to make sure nothing else was coming.
Meg’s heart punched her ribs.
Who had just fallen into their world? A friend, or an enemy? Had they come with purpose, or had they fumbled their way here by the will of the Creator, like Meg and her siblings had?
Meg forced her breath to slow, wrenched control of her pulse away from her emotions.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
Panic solved nothing. Fear solved nothing. Velanna had lectured her so many times on letting her emotions control her. For once, Meg was going to listen.
Breathe in peace. Breathe out balance.
Meg released Jenny’s arm and stepped forward, leaning on the tree. “Stay there,” Meg hissed.
“You can’t walk.”
“I can walk well enough.” Meg pointed at her. “Stay there.”
Meg braced herself against the tree and limped forward a few hops until she could reach the next tree.
“Oh, this is ridiculous.” Jenny huffed behind her.
Moments later, Meg yelped as Jenny scooped up her arm again and supported her weight.
“Jenny, stop!”
“It’ll take you a week to get over there, and by then whoever it is will be dead. So just let me help, okay? You’re so stubborn.”
Meg fisted the material of Jenny’s blouse in her hand.
No, Jenny would never really understand.
“Okay.” Meg nodded. “But if I tell you to run?”
“Yes, yes, I’ll run for the hills.”
“No arguing?”
“None.”
Meg grabbed her chin and forced her little sister to meet her gaze. “I want your word, Jenny. Not one more step until you promise me.”
Jenny held her stare unblinkingly. “I promise, Meg.”
Meg nodded. “Forward.”
They crept toward the unmoving figure sprawled on the loam of the forest. Overhead, the rip kept spinning and churning, but the sharpness of its edges had faded. The static electricity crawling up and down her arms had lessened. The rip still remained, but it was losing power.
Meg focused her eyes on the figure—the person who had fallen twenty feet. Fortunately, the springy forest floor had probably cushioned the impact, but it was still likely that the person was injured.
Jenny paused them at the figure’s feet, and Meg nudged one of his shoes with the bare toes of her good foot.
Strange shoes. White with laces. They were nothing like the leather boots the Josharons had made for their human and Celtican friends.
Josharons didn’t wear boots or shoes, of course. They didn’t need them.
The figure didn’t move, didn’t respond in any way.
Swallowing hard, Meg slid out of Jenny’s hold to kneel on the soft earth. The figure wore a dark green jacket and pants made from a sturdy dark blue fabric. And now that she was closer, Meg could see blond hair. Gently, she placed her hand on the figure’s shoulder.
So, it was a human most likely.
This close, the figure was much taller than Meg had expected. Not broad. Slender, really. But very tall. Meg gently pushed the figure’s shoulder over to roll him onto his back.
A boy.
Meg caught her breath.
A human boy.
“Meg,” Jenny whispered in awe.
“Hush, Jenny.”
“It’s a boy.”
“Yes, Jenny, it’s a boy. Hush, please.”
Jenny scurried around to kneel at his other side. “Is his hair supposed to look like that? What’s on his feet? What’s on his eyes? Where did he come from, Meg? Do you think he wants to be friends with us?”
“Jenny.” Meg reached across the boy and grabbed her sister’s arm. She raised her eyebrows.
Jenny beamed at her. “Right. Hushing.”
Meg chuckled and shook her head. She carefully pulled the broken set of eyewear away from his brow and brushed the dirt and leaves off his face. He had a strong jaw and a light dusting of freckles across his nose.
“His shirt has writing on it.” Jenny pointed.
Meg glanced back at her sister and narrowed her eyes at the shirt beneath the boy’s jacket. Cotton, black, and emblazoned with bright white letters: “No, I won’t fix your computer.”
“Strange,” Meg mumbled.
Jenny gazed fondly at the boy. “He’s very handsome. Don’t you think he’s handsome, Meg? Do you think he’s human? He looks human. I mean, Velanna looks human too sort of, and she isn’t. How can we tell if this boy is human?”
While Jenny chattered, Meg traced her hand up the side of the boy’s slack face and paused as her fingers found something wet in his hairline. She pulled her hand back, fingers red with blood.
Meg paled. “I’m going to go with human. How about that?”
Jenny covered her mouth with her hands. “Meg, he’s hurt!”
Meg glanced up at the churning rip. “Well, he fell twenty feet.” She shook herself. “It doesn’t matter. Have you got anything else in your bag?”
“Nothing.” Jenny’s eyes filled with tears. “Oh, Meg, what do we do?”
Meg took her hand. “We’re calm. That’s what we are, Jenny. We’re calm, and we breathe.”
Jenny blinked the tears away and nodded. “Yes. Calm. And breathing is good.”
“It’s very good.” Meg offered a smile. “Now. I want you to run to the village. Get one of the elders and a wagon. We need to get him home quickly.”
“I’ll bring karuadah berries and a packet of lace moss too.” Jenny was already on her feet. “The village healer keeps a store.”
“Good, you do that.” Meg nodded.
Jenny darted away up the trail toward the village in the distance. Meg shifted so that her numb leg was in a less awkward position and scooted closer to the boy’s side.
She found the bleeding wound on his head and pressed her hand against it, hoping to stem the bleeding as much as she could. She cast a glance overhead at the ominously churning rip. Her stomach clenched.
Even as a child six years old she remembered what passing through the portal had been like. Disorienting. Painful. Blinding. But it had been worth it in the end. The rip had spit them out in Tolan Ittai’s wheatfield, and they hadn’t left.
Who was this boy? Why was he here? Had he come to hurt them, or was he here on accident? Meg had learned long ago, though, that there were no such thing as accidents. Not really. Whatever purpose this boy had for being here, Meg didn’t like it.
The boy uttered a groan, his face twisting in pain. “Hold still.” Meg dabbed the blood away with the sleeve of her training tunic.
Why not add another stain? Velanna would have her hide anyway. Meg might have been able to convince Jenny that training alone in the forest didn’t count as real training, but that line wouldn’t work with Velanna.
Maybe Meg should throw herself out of a tree and give herself a head wound too. Then maybe Velanna would take pity on her. But, then again, Velanna would figure out that Meg had thrown herself out of a tree in order to avoid the consequences of disobeying her in the first place, and that would only make her angrier.
The boy muttered under his breath. “Don’t worry.” Meg smiled down at him. “You’ll be all right.”
If he was smart, he’d stay unconscious for as along as possible. Velanna was going to grill him like a fish, and even if the boy had come to cause trouble, Meg wouldn’t wish one of Velanna’s interrogations on her worst enemy.
The boy quieted as she pressed her hand against his face, and Meg eyed the portal still churning overhead.
It had faded slightly, yes, but it hadn’t vanished. And it should have vanished by now. The rip that had brought her family to Andaria ten years ago had ejected them and disappeared.
So why was this one still here?

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