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mean?”
    “Someone,” Winter said solemnly, “is trying to kill me.”



UNCLE GRIFFINSKITCH was a quiet Een but was rarely speechless. Kendra knew him to grunt or snort or humph at any available opportunity, but at this moment the old wizard was at a complete loss for words. All the color had drained from his face, and he looked as white as Winter Woodsong herself.
    Then the songbells started singing again, and this seemed to break Uncle Griffinskitch’s trance. “Who would try to harm you?” he demanded.
    “Hard to say,” Winter said cryptically.
    “I think I saw someone,” Kendra said, thinking back to the shadow in the songbells. “He was hiding in the garden, just before the statue crumbled.”
    “Humph!” Uncle Griffinskitch uttered, and Kendra knew it was the type of humph that meant that he had made up his mind to go investigate. With a flutter of his white beard, the wizard turned and disappeared into the lush grove of flowers.
    Kendra moved to follow him, but Winter said, “Let him go, child. His search will be in vain. The songbells sing again; the culprit, whoever it was, has made his escape.”
    “Aren’t you afraid, Elder Woodsong?” Kendra asked.
    “When you’ve been around as long as I have, the only thing that frightens you is another birthday,” Winter said with a chuckle.
    Kendra stared at her in bewilderment. Only a moment ago, the old woman had nearly met her death, and now here she sat, cracking a joke. But this was the way of Winter Woodsong. A visit with her was like trying to solve a riddle.
    “Do not fret, child,” Winter said. “One of the advantages of being so old is that you know a trick or two that no one else has yet learned. Let’s not worry for now. While we wait for that uncle of yours to return, speak to me of your studies. How do they fare?”
    “Oh, well . . . er, fine, I suppose,” Kendra mumbled, looking uncomfortably at the ground.
    “Trouble quieting your mind?” Winter inquired.
    “How did you know?” Kendra asked.
    “Many a young apprentice of magic struggles with focus,” Winter answered. “Even that uncle of yours! I remember when he was my apprentice. He was a restless boy indeed!”
    “Uncle Griffinskitch was your apprentice?” Kendra gasped.
    “Of course. You didn’t think he trained himself did you?” Winter asked with a chuckle. “And now I see that you too, Kendra, are growing impatient with your lessons.”
    “It’s not that,” Kendra explained, tugging on her longest braid. “It’s just that . . .”
    “You wish to find your brother,” Winter finished.
    Kendra nodded.
    “Patience, child,” Winter said. “There is something transpiring out there in that world. Now is not the time to rush into it.”
    “That’s what Uncle Griffinskitch says,” Kendra said, her face flushing. “Always, it’s ‘patience!’ But he just doesn’t understand. I must find Kiro.”
    “Oh, I think your uncle understands all too well,” Winter asserted. “Remember this: his sister—your own mother—rushed into the outside world, never to be seen again. Kendra, you must forgive us old folk for our cautious, practiced ways; please, do not be rash. We can’t afford to lose you like we lost your mother.”
    “But it’s ridiculous!” Kendra cried fervently. “We know Kiro’s out there. Why can’t we just go get him?”
    “And how do you suggest beginning?”
    “We should go before the elders,” Kendra declared. “We should tell them the truth, that my brother was turned into a beast by the Door to Unger. That maybe my parents were changed too. That there might be countless Eens transformed. Maybe the council will arrange a search party, help us go out there and find them.”
    “A noble plan, child,” Winter said with a nod. “But Burdock will not listen to such ideas.”
    “It’s not an idea,” Kendra proclaimed. “It’s the truth.”
    “That may be so,” Winter agreed with a gentle smile. “But you will come to