won’t be able to feel his hand in hers. “Daddy, don’t leave me!” she wants to say, but the words won’t come. Her throat hurts and she grabs his leg.
But he shoves her back with ease and she has no choice but to watch as her father, Patrick Underwood—the man she idolized all the seven short years of her life—brandishes the shining axe and stares down the Wood Monster.
Donna broke from the water, choking as the blackness threatened to drag her down again. There was blood beneath the surface—she didn’t want to go back, didn’t want to see. All that blood from her memories, as wet as the river that surrounded her, and the look of agony on her father’s face. She gasped, fighting the watery arms that threatened to drown her. It felt as though something in the water was alive, as if, even now, it was feeding on her memories. On her pain and terror.
She thrashed about with her arms and legs, wondering if she would sink to the bottom from all the iron in her body, testing her theory that she’d never been cut out for swimming. She’d hated it as a small child, anyway. Strange how she could remember so much about what life had been like before the age of seven.
Or maybe, not so strange at all.
The River of Memory and Forgetting flowed by and she managed to float on her back, letting it carry her along as she recovered from reliving such a memory. Dad, she thought, fighting tears. Oh, Dad …
She kicked her legs and tried to direct herself to the shore. The water was painfully cold; so icy that the shock of it was enough to bring her to full consciousness before she could sink. Is it even possible to drown? Donna wondered. If I’m already dead, that must be pretty impossible.
A pair of arms wrapped around her from behind.
She thrashed in the freezing water, not even knowing who or what had grabbed her. Not caring. “Get off me!”
“Stop struggling,” a familiar voice said. “I’m trying to help you.”
“I don’t need your help, Newton. I’ve got this. Get your hands off !”
Navin’s face was inches from hers. “It’s me, Donna. It’s Nav. I’m back!”
She almost swallowed a mouthful of water when she forgot to kick her legs for a moment. “I’m not that easy to fool a second time,” she gasped. “Any excuse to cop a feel.”
He looked genuinely shocked. If it really was still Newton, he was doing a good job of acting more like the real Nav. “What are you talking about? I wouldn’t do that.”
Donna put her hands on his shoulders and looked into his eyes. “Is it really you?”
“Yeah, but can you stop leaning on me like that? You’re going to sink us both. Have you put on weight since you went to England?”
It was Navin. He was here, with her! Donna threw her arms around him, letting him do the work of keeping them afloat for a little longer. She pressed her cheek against his and almost cried with relief.
“I was so worried about you.”
“About me? I was worried about you.”
“I can take care of myself,” she said. “Don’t forget, I’m a powerful Iron Witch.”
He laughed and almost sank them both, but managed to keep his head above the water. “Do you think we can talk once we’re not in danger of drowning? Also,” he added seriously, “if we stay in here for too long, you might start to rust.”
When they were finally sitting on the banks of the River of Memory and Forgetting, with their clothes already drying under the brittle remains of the iron sun, Donna grabbed Navin’s hand and held on as tightly as she dared. They swapped tired smiles.
She said, “I thought I’d never get you back.”
“Hey, now,” he replied, looking embarrassed and pleased at the same time.
She looked beyond him, examining the Grove of Thorns. This was where she would find the fruit that she needed to make the Philosopher’s Stone. Navin followed her gaze. It seemed impossible that anything could grow in a place like this, but there they were: black roses spilling out and flowing across the ground. There were so many of them, it looked as though the ground was covered in a carpet of black satin.
“Oh, hey,” Navin said, super casual. “I got something for you.”
And he took a tiny crystal out of his still damp jeans pocket and pressed it into the palm of her hand.
“What is