THE BORDER
Well, I would’ve liked to say that we made it to the border with no further incidents, but that would be a lie. It was the Nevernever, after all. Couldn’t walk a mile without something jumping out trying to scare, eat, rob, or have their way with you. Thankfully, the goblin party that attempted to ambush us on the trail underestimated how very lethal the “snow-hair elf” really was. I didn’t even have to lift a finger as Nyx decimated the half-dozen squat green creatures with no effort at all. The last goblin, a runty thing with the tip of an ear missing, squealed in terror as Nyx turned on him, the rest of his troop scattered around her in small goblin pieces.
“No kill!” Dropping his spear, he cringed back, looking like an ugly green dog that was about to get kicked. “No kill! Mercy, snow-hair, mercy. Pooga leave. Leave now, see? No kill Pooga.”
I rolled my eyes, but Nyx lowered her arms, the shining crescent blades fading to moonlight in her hands. “Get out of here,” she told the last goblin, who immediately leaped to his feet and scampered into the bushes. Nyx watched until the sound of rustling branches faded into the distance, then turned to me with a wry grin.
“Nice to know some things never change. No matter how many goblins you exterminate, there are always more somewhere.”
“Goblins, the cockroaches of the Nevernever,” I agreed. “Though I was sure you would skewer that last one. You know he’s just going to scurry back and tell the rest of his friends about us, and then we’ll have to deal with the whole tribe.”
Nyx gave a shrug that was somehow elegant and careless at the same time. “I’ve lost count of how many I’ve killed,” she murmured, “how many lives the Lady ordered me to cut short. If I can avoid it, I try not to add to that number.”
“An assassin with a conscience,” I remarked, surprised. “That must suck. How’d you end up with one of those?”
Faeries have no souls. It’s one of the key things that separates the fey from mortals. Well, besides the pointy ears, wings, hooves, horns, et cetera. It’s how, after centuries of murder, scheming and debauchery, a faery can continue its merry life without succumbing to the guilt of what it had done. No soul equals no conscience. Throw immortality into the mix, and you have a bunch of bored, capricious beings who are constantly looking for their next form of entertainment and don’t care about the mess they leave behind. I know of only one true fey who managed to earn a soul, and the whole process nearly killed him. It was only his love for a certain half human that kept him sane and alive through the whole terrible ordeal.
However, there are a few of us who, though it happens very rarely, develop something that passes for a conscience. Sometimes, a faery is cursed with one, though this is one of the most terrifying things that can happen to a fey, and the poor sap who finds himself saddled with a conscience usually gets himself killed trying to undo it. But occasionally—and no one knows how it happens—a conscience develops on its own.
Some say humans are to blame, that the more time you spend with mortals, the more in danger you are of being infected with their “human morality.” Some suggest that the more famous you are, the more stories, songs, and poems people tell about you, the more you start to take on aspects of the character in those tales. However it happens, slowly or all at once, it’s life changing. A faery can suddenly find himself feeling guilty about actions that meant nothing to him in the past. The games he found hilarious before now make him cringe.
When this happens, there are really only two choices a faery can make: continue on as before until the guilt eventually drives him to end his existence once and for all, or adapt. Find a way to deal with it, to make up for past mistakes, and do better. Though the rest of Faery will never, ever let him forget.
Nyx hesitated, a haunted look briefly crossing her face. “It did...suck...sometimes,” she admitted. “Being the Lady’s assassin... I had to accept that part of me, the part that was a killer, the me that reveled in the hunt and the blood and the fear. I had to come to terms with that shadow self, otherwise, it would’ve destroyed me.” She shot me an exasperated look, then sighed. “It’s a long, morbid story,” she finished. “And one I really don’t want to get into at this moment. Ask me again some other time?”
I nodded. “Fair enough. Then I suggest we move before we’re drowning in a few dozen vengeful goblins. We’re not far from the border now.”
The Crossing, as it was oh so creatively called, sat at the edge of the wyldwood, right before you crossed into the Iron Realm. It was a massive stone bridge spanning a gulf that stretched for miles in either direction, separating the Iron Realm from the rest of Faery. A squadron of Iron knights were stationed here, and a pair of them stood on either side of the enormous copper-and-iron gate, blocking the way into the Iron Realm.
Upon seeing the guards, Nyx stopped walking and drew in a slow breath, her moon-colored eyes wider than I’d ever seen. “Those are...the Iron fey you mentioned?” she said in a near whisper. Her awe was understandable; she had never seen an Iron faery before, and the knights were decked out in their shiny metal plate armor, a torturous death sentence for any traditional fey. Even the iron-tipped spears they carried would make a traditional faery cringe.
I nodded. “Yep, and those guys aren’t even the weirdest of the lot. Wait’ll you get to Tinkerport, the town on the other side of the chasm. Pro tip—gremlins are the goblins of the Iron Realm. They’re everywhere and unavoidable, so it’s best to ignore them. Give them any attention and you’ll have a whole swarm trailing you.”
“Hmm.” Now that the initial shock was over, Nyx regarded the knights. “There aren’t very many guards,” she stated as she scanned the bridge entrance. “I could probably sneak past the lot of them if I wanted to.”
“I have no doubt you could,” I said truthfully. “I could, too, now that you mention it. But the problem isn’t getting past the guards. See that bridge?” I pointed. “Once you cross to the other side, you’re in the Iron Realm proper, and without a protection amulet, any traditional faery will start feeling the effects of the iron sickness immediately.”
“Is it really that bad?” Nyx wondered, and I remembered she came from a time where modernization wasn’t a thing yet. Not like today, with cars and computers and technology everywhere you turned. She had never experienced the nausea of riding in a mortal vehicle, felt the fear of having a gun pointed at her, or recoiled whenever some human tried handing her a phone, a can of soda, a pocket knife, anything of metal and technology.
I imagined she had faced swords and holy symbols, fire and protection charms to keep our kind at bay. But her world had been simpler and more primal, not suffused with the iron of mankind’s progress.
I offered a smile that was mostly grimace. “Okay, so imagine the most sick you’ve ever been,” I told her, “vomiting, nausea, the works—and then imagine someone pouring acid directly down your lungs.” Her noise wrinkled, and I shuddered at the memory. “Trust me, it’s not fun.”
“It does not sound very fun.”
“Which is why you need one of these things,” I went on, pulling the amulet from under my shirt again. The stylized raven glittered as it spun on its cord, pulsing with a faint green light. “And why we are going to get you one, right now. It’s the only way you can survive the Iron Realm without throwing up your insides.”
Nyx watched the iron raven spin on its cord a moment. “I am guessing they are fairly difficult to procure,” she said, “since the Iron Realm has the best border defense simply by existing. If no traditional fey can survive the realm, the Iron Queen does not have to worry about war with the other courts. She and her people can simply retreat within their territory, and no one else can follow.”
“Right on both counts.” I tucked the amulet into my shirt again. “These babies are very regulated and extremely difficult to get ahold of. The rulers of the courts each have one, because they’d all be super offended if they didn’t. But beyond them, only trusted allies and friends of the Iron Realm are given these amulets. So, they’re fairly rare, and you need the queen’s permission to have one made for you.” I grinned. “Luckily, I happen to be the queen’s best friend.”
“Is there no other way to survive the realm?” Nyx wanted to know.
“Well, there was the old way, but sacrificing an Iron faery and trapping its essence inside a protection amulet didn’t sit too well with the queen,” I said. “But she wanted a way for normal faeries to travel safely through the Iron Realm without harm.” I scratched the back of my head. “Also, there might’ve been some whining from a certain Summer faery about never getting to see her and ice-boy unless they left Mag Tuiredh. So, she had her tinkers and smiths come up with something that didn’t require killing to make.”
Apparently it hadn’t been easy; our reaction to iron was so ancient and primeval, baked into our very nature, that it was hard to overcome.
“It took a while,” I went on, “and there were lots of failed experiments with magic and tech, but eventually, they did come up with something.”
A strange expression crossed Nyx’s face, making me pause. “Interesting,” she murmured. “The Iron Queen already had the means available to make the amulets, and yet she chose an alternative way to spare her subjects. The Lady would not have done the same.”
“Yup, like I said, Meghan isn’t like the other queens. She won’t even stomp an iron cockroach without good cause.” I wrinkled my nose. “It’s a cockroach. That’s cause enough, I say.”
“And you believe I am going to be granted one of these special amulets.” Nyx sounded dubious, eyeing the guards at the bridge entrance. “A Forgotten assassin who used to work for the Lady, being granted an amulet that will let her travel anywhere in the Iron Realm. And were you planning to just stroll up and ask for one?”
“Pretty much, yeah.”
She sighed, shaking her head, as we left the woods and started toward the edge of the chasm. “I think we need to have a discussion about proper planning, Goodfellow.”
“Planning?” I grinned back at her. “Plan is a four-letter word. I do my best work on the fly. Besides...” I shrugged “...my best laid plans always seem to backfire on me, so better not to have any to begin with.”
The knights straightened as we came out of the trees and made our way down the road toward the bridge. I raised my arm in a cheerful wave, letting them know it was me and everything was fine. But the knights didn’t respond; I didn’t get a return wave or even an eye roll. And as we drew closer, I began to sense something was wrong.
“They’re on high alert,” Nyx observed, sounding wary herself. “Are they normally like this, or is the Iron Realm having conflicts with the other courts?”
“Not that I’m aware of,” I muttered back. “And no, normally they’d see me coming and I’d at least get a salute. Wonder what’s got everyone so cranky? Is the first lieutenant on the warpath again? Maybe he dressed down the whole squad, and they’re still sulky about it.”
“We’re about to find out,” Nyx mused as we approached the first pair of guards, who had stepped forward to meet us. Like the faeries of Summer and Winter, they were tall and slender, with pointed ears and the aristocratic features of all sidhe. These two were nearly twins, with dark hair, pointed chins, and steel-gray eyes that were currently narrowed with suspicion, glaring between me and Nyx.
“Hey, boys,” I greeted cheerfully. “Why the long faces? Glitch working you too hard? Or are the piskies being obnoxious again? Need me to convince the piskie population that it really isn’t cool to fly by and drop things on your heads when you’re trying to do your job?”
“Goodfellow.” The guard on the left spoke calmly, his voice flat. “Why are you here?”
“Oh, you know, I was in the area and thought I’d pay a visit to my good friend Queen Meghan.” I waved my hand in the general direction of the Iron Realm. “You know, the one who granted me an open invitation to the palace, whenever I want?”
The knight’s expression didn’t change. His gaze swung to Nyx, standing quietly beside me, and those steel-colored eyes narrowed even farther. “And who is this?”
“This is my good friend Nyx,” I introduced, still attempting to be polite. Beside me, Nyx gave a solemn bob of her head. “She would also like to go see the queen.”
“Where’s her amulet?”
“Ah, well, that’s the thing.” I offered a sheepish, disarming grin. “She...uh...doesn’t have one—”
“Then she doesn’t get in.”
“—but we were hoping to procure one before we went to Mag Tuiredh,” I finished, and frowned at the knight. “Okay, what’s going on here? You guys know me. What’s with the third degree?”
“We know you, Goodfellow,” the Iron faery agreed, then glanced at Nyx again, his jaw set. “We don’t know her. She’s not from Summer or Winter. I’ve never seen her type before. What kind of fey is she?”
“My apologies,” Nyx said calmly, taking a step up to stand beside me. “I’m a Forgotten, and I serve King Keirran in the Between. He asked me to deliver an important message to the Iron Queen, since he cannot be present himself.”
“A Forgotten?” The other knight gripped his spear in both hands, not exactly pointing it at Nyx, but definitely ready to. I scowled at him and stepped between him and Nyx.
“Oy, bucket head, the Forgotten aren’t our enemies,” I said, staring him down. “They’re part of the Nevernever, and they’re included in the peace treaties, same as the rest of the courts. Incidentally, their king is the son of your queen, so maybe you can point that spear somewhere else.”
“The Forgotten served the Lady,” the first knight accused, glaring at Nyx. “As did Prince Keirran. We are of Iron, but we do not forget.”
“Funny, I seem to remember a time when you guys once served a guy called the Iron King. Remember that? Remember how he was trying to destroy the Nevernever, way back when?” The Iron faery shot me a poisonous look, and I smirked. “Strange how everyone only remembers what’s convenient.”
The knight set his jaw. “She’s a Forgotten,” he said flatly. “Our orders are clear. I am sorry, Goodfellow, but we cannot let a strange faery into the realm without an invitation.”
Well, this was an unexpected hiccup. I didn’t think it would be this hard to get Nyx into the Iron Realm. The knights usually trusted me, or at the very least they knew I wasn’t going to go on a wild murder spree once I was past the border. Granted, I didn’t normally bring strange friends with me, but this level of suspicion was weird. Keirran had been part of the Iron Court, and I knew most of the Iron fey still considered him their prince, even though he couldn’t return. But it seemed these two weren’t going to budge, even if I asked nicely.
Then maybe it’s time for some not-so-nice tactics.
I smiled, letting my Summer magic rise up within, feeling the heat of the glamour collect in my palms. Let’s see how well these two guarded a gate if they were suddenly turned into fat little pigs in armor.
“What’s going on here?”
The familiar voice interrupted my thoughts. A faery came striding up, causing the guards to straighten immediately. He wasn’t dressed like a knight, and certainly didn’t look like one. With his dark jeans, leather jacket, and iron-studded bracers, he resembled a punk rocker more than anything else. His spiky black hair looked like he’d jammed a finger in an electrical outlet, and the neon purple lightning strands flickering through it only added to the effect.
“Sir!” Both knights saluted as Glitch, first lieutenant and commander of the Iron fey army, came striding up in his combat boots.
I relaxed, shooting Nyx a reassuring grin, though a part of me was disappointed. It would have been fun seeing these stiff-necked knights bounce around on all fours and squeal like skinned pigs.
Glitch spotted me, and the severe look on his face dissolved, replaced by amused exasperation. “Oh,” he commented, as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening. “It’s you. There’s a ruckus at my gates and the guards are suddenly whispering about an intruder. Of course it’s you.”
I grinned. Meghan’s first lieutenant and I went way back—well, as far back as the Iron fey war, when he’d helped us defeat the false king. “Hey, socket-head,” I greeted. “Still terrorizing the tin cans, I see.”
He smirked and appeared about to say something, but faltered, purple eyes widening as he stared at me. “You...seem a little different, Goodfellow,” he stated, his suddenly wary gaze on my forehead. “Are those new, or did you get yourself cursed somehow?”
“Oh, the horns.” I stifled a grimace. “Yeah, that’s part of the reason we need to see Meghan. There’s sort of a new threat running around that could put all the courts in danger and destroy life as we know it, you know, the typical stuff. Unfortunately, your tin cans are making it very difficult to cross over.”
Glitch shot a questioning look at the knights, who paled under that glare.
“Sir,” one protested, stepping forward. “We were not trying to prevent Robin Goodfellow from entering the Iron Realm. He is, of course, free to come and go as he pleases. But his companion has no amulet and has not been authorized to cross the border. We did not think it prudent to allow her the means to enter the kingdom.”
“She is a Forgotten, First Lieutenant,” the second guard chimed in. “And she claims to have served the Lady.”
I expected Glitch to smile and put them in their place; for being an Iron faery and the commander of the knights, he could snark almost as well as me, which I appreciated. But the faery’s violet eyes shifted to Nyx and narrowed in suspicion.
“You served the Lady?” he asked.
“Once,” Nyx replied without hesitation. “A long time ago, before the rise of the courts, before Summer and Winter were even imagined, I was at the Lady’s side.”
“And what did you do for the Lady?”
“I killed for her.” Again, without any hesitation, though I thought I could hear a hint of regret in her quiet voice. “I killed for her, and I protected her with my life. I cannot tell you more, because that is all I remember.”
Glitch’s jaw tightened, and he turned to me. “And you expect me to let a Forgotten assassin into the Iron Realm?” he asked. “To give her free rein, and the means of traveling wherever she wants within the kingdom?”
“Okay, did someone slip manticore piss into your canteens this morning?” I demanded, waving my arms at the whole trio. “What is wrong with you? All of you? It’s me, socket-head. Do you really think I would let anything bad happen to Meghan, or put her in danger in any way? You know me better than that.”
“I don’t know,” Glitch said, completely serious. “I haven’t seen you in a while, Goodfellow, and now you show up with horns and a strange Forgotten who was an assassin for our greatest enemy. Shouldn’t I be a little cautious?”
“I serve Keirran now,” Nyx added before I could reply. “The Lady is gone, and the Forgotten King is my liege. I bring a message from the king to his mother, the Iron Queen, and I must deliver it.” She hesitated a moment, then sighed. “If you wish me to swear a binding oath that I will harm no one while within the borders of the Iron Realm, I will do so. But I must reach Mag Tuiredh to see the queen before my mission is complete.”
“An oath.” Glitch pondered that a moment, then nodded. “Yes,” he mused. “Perhaps that would be for the best.”
“Uh, no. You shouldn’t have to swear anything,” I said angrily. Oaths and promises were a very serious business in the Nevernever. Once a faery gave their word, they couldn’t break it. Even if it meant their death. Nyx had done nothing to warrant this amount of suspicion, and it was pissing me off that Glitch, of all faeries, was the obstacle preventing us from getting to Meghan.
“No one is going to make any oaths,” I protested. “It shouldn’t be this hard to get a freaking amulet.” The urge to unleash my glamour, to turn this peaceful little outpost into a hub of chaos and pandemonium, rose up again. If the gates were suddenly overrun with rabid monkeys, I bet no one would notice two faeries sneaking into the Iron Realm.
I tried one more time to be diplomatic. “Glitch, you know this isn’t going to make the queen happy. If Meghan were here, right now, what would she say?”
The first lieutenant of the Iron fey glared at me a moment, before he sighed, and the lightning in his hair changed from neon purple to blue. “Fine,” he said. “I trust you well enough, Goodfellow.” He pointed a slim finger at Nyx, frowning. “But if that Forgotten causes any grief while she’s here, she can try surviving the Iron Realm with no protection amulet. My job is to keep this realm and the Iron Queen safe, from any threat, no matter who or what it is. Even if it comes from the queen’s own kin.”
Ouch. He was still sore about that, then. Glitch had taken Keirran’s betrayal exceptionally hard, and even though the normally reasonable lieutenant was part of the Iron Court, he was still a full-blooded faery, with all the quirks and pitfalls of the gentry. Including the ability to hold a grudge forever. I guess he hadn’t quite forgiven the former Iron Prince for what he’d put them through.
Glitch shook his head and turned to the pair of knights. “Send a message to the Tinkerer,” he ordered. “Tell him we have need of his services, right now. Tell him Glitch sent you.”
One knight saluted, then pivoted on a heel and strode away. The first lieutenant watched him stride across the bridge until he was lost from sight, then turned to us again.
“You’ll have to wait here until the Tinkerer arrives,” he told me. “The protection amulets aren’t something we can hand out to just anyone. They have to be specifically crafted to each faery. But he’s done this sort of work before, so it shouldn’t take long.”
“Appreciate it, socket-head.” I smirked and crossed my arms. “Though, next time, a little faster would be nice. We’ve just got to deliver a vital message to the queen, nothing important. Don’t let us interrupt your busy day.”
His brow furrowed, the strands in his hair going purple again. “Care to fill me in, Goodfellow? If there’s a danger to the realm, I think I should know about it.”
I gave him a nasty smile. “I would,” I said cheerfully, “if my friend hadn’t been treated with such disrespect at the border.” I held his gaze, a challenging smile stretching my lips. “I don’t know if I want to share my news with you, socket-head. Maybe if there was more trust between us.”
For a second, I wondered what I was doing. Glitch was a long-time ally, and Meghan trusted him completely with the safety of her realm. We had fought side by side against all kinds of enemies, and he was one of the first Iron fey I had considered a friend. But something bitter and spiteful was stirring in me, egged on by the hostility and fear in the air around us. And right now, despite years of camaraderie with Glitch, the friendly insults, and being on the same side since the day Meghan became queen, I suddenly didn’t feel like playing nice.
The Iron faery’s eyes narrowed to violet slits, and the lightning in his hair glowed red. For a second, I thought he might draw the sword at his waist and swing it at me. Part of me hoped he would, but after a taut moment in which I could feel the tension in the fey surrounding us, Glitch stepped back, an air of dismissal surrounding him.
The knights relaxed, and Nyx discreetly lowered her arms under her cloak where, I was certain, two very lethal moonblades had appeared in her hands.
“Very well, Goodfellow.” The first lieutenant’s voice was cold. Not ice-boy levels of cold, but definitely chilly. Turning, he pointed to a stone bench beneath a willow tree a few yards away. “You and the Forgotten can wait over there until the Tinkerer arrives,” he continued, sounding impatient. “It shouldn’t be long. And, Goodfellow,” he warned, “don’t try anything funny while you’re here. I’ll be watching you both.”
Turning on a heel, Glitch stalked off, the strands in his hair snapping angrily as he left.
“Well,” I commented as we moved toward the bench, a nice safe distance from the guards and the border. “That was... interesting.”
“It seems they still do not trust the Forgotten after the war with the Lady,” Nyx said. “And Keirran.” She paused, frowning thoughtfully, then glanced at me. “This lieutenant. Glitch. Have you always been at odds with him?”
“Not really.” I shrugged. “I mean, Glitch is a pretty cool guy most of the time. We fought together against the false king, and aside from his terrible fashion taste, I haven’t had a problem with him since.”
She tilted her head. “That was not the impression I got,” she said in a soft voice. “I saw the way he looked at me, him and the knights both. I heard what he said about Keirran. If you hadn’t been there, they might’ve tried to detain me. Or worse.”
I grinned evilly, as several nasty ideas sprang to mind once more. “That would’ve been a bad day for them.”
But Nyx shook her head. “I am not here to start a fight with my king’s former kith,” she said. “This was once his home. And they are right to be suspicious of me. I was once a servant of their greatest enemy, the Lady who stole away their prince.”
She raised her head, watching the knight who still glowered at us from a distance. “Keirran told me that much of the Nevernever was still furious at him,” she said quietly, “and that they would never forgive what he did. I suppose that extends to all of us. It seems I’m going to be as welcome in the Iron Realm as he is.”
I was simultaneously annoyed that she was talking so much about Keirran and angry at the thought of Nyx being targeted simply because she was a Forgotten. A Forgotten assassin who once was the right hand of the Lady, yeah, who was as skilled and dangerous as she was beautiful, but she wasn’t even part of the last war.
“Ah, don’t stress too much about it.” I plopped beside her on the bench, and she glanced at me with calm, moon-colored eyes. “Nothing’s going to happen to you in the Iron Court. Anyone wants to start shit, they’re gonna have to go through me.”
Her mouth twitched in a wry smirk of her own. “You don’t think I can handle myself?”
“Oh, believe me, I am fully aware that you can slice and dice your way through pretty much anything.” I held up my hands as she watched me, still smiling. “No question about your murder capabilities, please don’t stab me. But if we’re in the Iron Realm and we do have to make trouble, better for the blame to land on me than you. One, you’re a Forgotten, and it seems that everyone’s panties are in a twist over that. Best if you lie low for now. And two, I’m good friends with the Iron Queen, and I will be playing that card every chance I get.” One silver brow arched, and I shot her a grin. “Besides, I’m Robin Goodfellow. If things blow up, collapse, explode, or turn into frogs around me, well, that’s just to be expected.”
She snorted. “Is subtle also a four-letter word in your world?”
“Nope, but tact is. Also, meek, mild, calm, care, plot, plan, mind, quit, stop, test... I could go on if you want me to.”
A creaking, jingling sound interrupted me. I turned to look at the gate and saw the top of a covered wagon making its way over the bridge toward us. At first, it looked like it belonged to a snake oil salesman in an old Western, until it drew closer and I saw it clearly.
Instead of wheels, four segmented legs jutted from the sides like those of a huge metal insect, picking their way over the ground as the wagon crawled forward. The sides were tall and banded with copper, and a pair of lanterns flickered at the back and front, swaying in the breeze. The painted sign on the side of the wagon read Tinkerer’s Workshop. Repairs, Adjustments, Custom Pieces.
I groaned. “Oh yeah,” I muttered as Nyx rose beside me, watching the wagon lurch toward us on jointed metal legs. “Forgot to mention... Lots of things in the Iron Realm have a really disturbing fascination with insects. Just a heads-up, in case you loathe spiders and all their ilk and believe anything with more than four legs should be cleansed from the world with fire. Except octopi—they get a pass ’cause they’re cool and can squeeze their bodies through pretty much anything. Everything else, kill it with fire. Spiders, scorpions, centipedes...”
“Butterflies?”
“Have you seen a butterfly’s face up close? It’s terrifying.” I grimaced. “Besides, the amount of times I’ve been swarmed by carnivorous butterflies in the Nevernever is more than once. So, yep, kill ’em with fire.”
Nyx chuckled, and it sent a strange little flutter through my insides. “Well, hopefully there will be no killer butterflies inside,” she said, and together, we walked toward the bridge and the Tinkerer’s wagon, crouched like a giant cricket at the edge of the chasm.