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good tonight,” said Eliot. “
Yum
.”
    â€œMmm-hmm,” said Fife. Snickering, he threw a hazelnut at Oliver, who threw a walnut back, and the tension fizzled away, forgotten.
    As they ate, the Clearing turned lighter with the first rays of sun.
    â€œIt’ll be day soon,” said Oliver. “We ought to get back to our trees before—well, before anything happens.”
    â€œYou too, Oliver?” Adelaide sighed.

    â€œAs ’t were a spur upon the soul,” quoted Oliver, “a fear will urge it where to go without the spectre’s aid.”
    â€œUgh,” said Adelaide. “I thought I could count on you at least to not hold to such silly superstitions.”
    â€œYour father believes in whitecaps, you know,” Eliot said.
    Adelaide went red in the face. “He does not.”
    â€œHe told us so,” said Lottie, exchanging a smile with Eliot. “He said we should be careful, or the whitecaps will gobble us up.”
    â€œTechnically,” said Fife, “whitecaps don’t gobble. They suck and slurp.”
    â€œTechnically,” said Adelaide, “whitecaps do none of the above, because
they don’t exist
. Now, I’m off to my yew but only because I’m tired of listening to so much stupidity, not because I believe in monsters.”
    â€œI didn’t believe in things like sprites and wisps a few weeks back,” said Eliot. “Sometimes you get proven wrong.”
    Adelaide tossed her hair. “I’m never wrong. Coming, Lottie?”
    Lottie thought Adelaide was being ridiculous, as usual. All the same, the sun
was
on the rise, and she was thinking about what Eliot had said. Sometimes you did get proven wrong, and Lottie reasoned she’d rather climb into a yew with ridiculous Adelaide than have her blood drained from her body by a drove of fanged whitecaps.
    â€œComing,” she said, waving goodbye to the boys. “See you tonight.”
    â€œIf we’re still alive,” said Eliot.
    Lottie knew it was only a joke, but her heart skittered at the very idea of Eliot not greeting her in the morning. She pushed the thought from her head and ran to catch up with Adelaide.
    Lottie still hadn’t lost the wonder she felt every time she watched a yew branch uncurl from a splintery whorl. The sight was equal parts beautiful and terrifying. In fact, Lottie thought, the same could be said of the wisps themselves.
    â€œOh, look!” cried Adelaide.
    The last of the yew needles were falling. This was not the way Lottie was used to seeing leaves fall back in Kemble Isle—slow and sporadic, almost imperceptibleuntil the day she realized no leaves remained on the branches. This was something else. It was a sudden flurry of golden needles, whipped about by wind, turning circles and pinwheeling and catching in Lottie’s hair. It was a honey-tinted snowfall.
    Adelaide giggled. It was the first time Lottie had heard her giggle since she’d come to Wisp Territory.
    â€œIt’s
beautiful
,” Adelaide breathed. “The loveliest sound, too. There’s nothing so nice as the sound of leaves landing on the ground.”
    â€œYou’re lucky you can hear it so well,” said Lottie. “It must be nice.”
    Adelaide hopped up the branch of their yew, and Lottie followed her into the dim, warm, hollowed-out trunk. The curling branch sealed them back inside, safe from any intruders—whitecaps included.
    â€œI didn’t know things like that made you so happy,” said Lottie.
    She liked this side of Adelaide—when she wasn’t busy complaining or arguing with Fife.
    â€œAutumn’s the season I love best,” said Adelaide. “Back in New Albion, we have the loveliest festivals. When I was little, Father would take us to the pumpkin patches, and Oliver and I could get
three
pumpkins apiece. Father would call me his itty-bitty squash.”
    Lottie’s smile grew.