“I’m just the guy to spring it,” Jace said. “Remember that castle with the candy garden? Best day of my life.”

“We’re being chased,” Mira said.

“We haven’t stopped all night,” Jace replied. “The bird told us we’re ahead of them. It’s time for breakfast.”

“Okay,” Mira said. “Stop.”

The autocoach immediately responded.

“You’ll be careful?” she asked.

“I’ll dive blindfolded from the highest tree I can find.” He opened the door and hopped down, golden rope in hand. “You coming, Cole?”

Cole fumbled for his sword. “Sure.”

Mira placed a hand on his arm. “You don’t have to go.”

“Giant cookies,” Cole said by way of explanation as he jumped out of the carriage. It felt good to stretch. He buckled his sword belt.

“Come on,” Jace said, already marching off. “You keep watch while I lasso a snack.”

Cole hurried after him, one hand on the hilt of his sword.

At the edge of the milky pond, Jace crouched and cupped milk into one hand. “It’s cold.” He brought his hand to his lips. “Mmmm. Rich and creamy.”

Shaking the milk from his fingers, Jace stood and cast his rope out to the nearest cookie. The golden rope wrapped around the target multiple times. With a flick of his wrist, the rope yanked the oversized cookie out of the milk, but it broke apart, soggy remnants splashing down.

“Not very solid,” Jace said.

Cole knelt on a flat rock that slightly overhung the pond. Below, milk lapped against the stone and the muddy bank, yet the milk didn’t seem to have any dirt in it. He dipped a finger and found that Jace was right—it was quite cold.

Jace ensnared another cookie, then hauled it in slowly, bringing it to where Cole knelt. “Help me get it out.”

Cole reached underneath the cookie. Although the top was firm, the underside was mushy. Working together, Jace and Cole lifted it out of the milk, Cole’s hands sinking into the underside until reaching a more solid portion. Milk dripped down his wrists into his sleeves and onto his shoes. Holding his half of the sodden cookie required all his strength.

With their prize between them, Jace and Cole shuffled back to the autocoach. Cole tried not to breathe too hard. His arms burned with the effort. Mira got out as they drew near.

“You’re not bringing that in here,” she said.

“Why not?” Jace asked.

“It’s a gooey, drippy mess,” Mira said. “We’ll eat some out here.”

“Break off pieces,” Cole suggested.

Using two hands, Mira snapped off part of one of the edges. The chunk was too big to take a normal bite, but she gnawed at it. “Wow, this is good.”

Twitch got out as well and snapped off a piece. His eyes lit up when he tried a bite.

“Get some for us,” Jace said. “We’re too busy holding it.”

Mira set her piece aside and broke off two more.

“Should we chuck it?” Jace asked.

“You want any, Bertram?” Cole invited.

“No time to bother,” the old man replied. “I’m just here on holiday with my grandniece and grandnephews.”

Swinging their arms, Cole and Jace heaved the cookie sideways, and it whumped down, flattening a circle of tall grass. They accepted their hunks from Mira. “We should get moving,” she said.

“They won’t follow us in here,” Jace said. “Nobody wants to do battle with milk and cookies.”

They all climbed back into the coach. Cole found that the cookie tasted freshly baked, with a hint of warmth as if it had barely cooled. The soggy parts were extra good. He only had one chocolate chip in his piece, but it was bigger than his fist.

Cole chomped on his cookie as the coach rolled along. Eventually, his stomach started to protest. He worried that eating more would make him sick. “Anybody want the rest of mine?”

“I’m done,” Jace said. “They’re too messy to store.” He tossed it out the window.

“Leaving a trail of cookie crumbs?” Twitch asked.

“They won’t know we did it,” Jace said.

The others chucked their pieces as well.

Cole watched out the window, looking for another cookie pond or anything else out of the ordinary. He didn’t have to wait long. The next clearing they passed was full of upright dominoes, each bigger than a mattress, white with black markings. Hundreds of them formed a winding path, ready to fall if the first toppled.

“That is so tempting,” Cole said. “I love knocking over dominoes.”

“We can’t stop for everything,” Mira said. “One of these times it will be a trap.”

“I can’t believe somebody didn’t tip them over a long time ago,” Cole marveled.

“Maybe somebody did,” Mira said. “They might stand back up on their own. Don’t forget, these were shaped. Who knows what they can do?”

“Use the bow,” Jace said. “Target practice.”

“Right,” Cole replied, excited. Jace had returned the bow to the storage compartment last night. Lifting the hatch, he retrieved it and handed it over.

While pulling the string to his cheek, Cole felt the arrow appear. They had passed the first domino, but in a minute, he would have a clear shot at the last one. Once it was in full view, he released the arrow, which hit the target a little higher than where he had aimed it. The domino rocked backward and fell into the next, creating a clattering chain reaction. The dominoes fell fluidly, the motion snaking around the field until the last slapped down flat.

Everything seemed very quiet after the noise of the dominoes had stopped—until they heard some distant roars, long and low and savage. They all looked at one another.

“Maybe not the best idea to announce our presence,” Twitch said.

“The baddies will figure out we’re here either way,” Jace said.

“We wouldn’t want to try to sneak by them or anything,” Mira said.

“Sorry,” Cole said. “I wasn’t thinking.”

“If we have to blame somebody,” Jace said, “the guy who shot the arrow is first in line.”

“I don’t want to place blame,” Mira said. “I just want to live. I vote we stay in the coach from now on.”

“I’ll second that,” Twitch spoke up.

“Thirded,” Cole said.

“I’m going to keep my options open,” Jace said.