Chapter 33
Alistair followed paw prints from the bridge up a rutted, overgrown path, and into a densely wooded grove where she finally caught up with the fox. She could hear him whispering, speaking with her in the past. She struggled to get closer to hear what he was telling her.
“I was right about the books. Wait ’til you see. You won’t believe it,” he whispered back.
That’s right. That was the truth. Her brother had loved the briar books, not her. It felt like memories were leaking out of the fracture in the watch’s glass: drips and drabs of everything that was. Alistair remembered the books, even without the watch, but not indelibly, not in detail. She remembered characters, like Iris, and places, like the little red house, but the sinew that connected the details had always been mi
