Toad was still too small to have outgrown the wonder of the inn's second floor. She wasn't very good at the stairs, and all the doors looked the same so sometimes she got them mixed up. Yesterday she'd got lost and cried pitifully at the wrong one until Da came out to save her and bring her back through the right one.

As far as she was concerned, it was simply magic. Sometimes an opening took her where she thought it would, and sometimes it didn't, and it depended entirely on the mood of the inn and the games of the faeries.

And today would be no exception. Tottling down the hall, one cracked door floated out the promise of milk and the whining of pups. Thinking Mum's bedroom had moved, Toad shoved her little face through the narrow opening, bent legs not particularly helpful in terms of leverage but eventually giving her enough momentum to squeeze through.

But it wasn't Mum at all!

Memories of Wisp were vague. A muffled lively voice, a faded chalky tinge in the air. But Toad knew this was family, still, because they were all here in the inn and that left its mark on their scent. Excited to have discovered something new, she gave a happy yip, tail a-wag, and bounded ungracefully further into the room without waiting for permission, Haigh!