Catching her shoulders, he steadied her. “Unclaimed? Did you say ‘unclaimed’? As in without a munaqsri?” She could hear the excitement in his voice.

She closed her eyes. “Can’t talk,” she whispered. “Dying.” Please, let this work!

“Twenty-five thousand souls.” He was almost shouting. “You said twenty-five thousand! Where? Who?”

She took a breath as if to speak, but then shuddered—the shudder was not feigned. Heal me! she silently begged.

She heard him swear, and then pain shot through her as he pressed down on her rib cage. Her torso tightened and her ribs squeezed. She felt as if the ceiling of the sky were collapsing inward and the earth were ripping upward. She screamed. And then suddenly, the pain was gone.

Surprised, Cassie cut off midscream. She sat up on the blood-soaked rocks. She felt as light as helium. She practiced breathing. Her ribs expanded and contracted evenly. She prodded them. She did not even feel bruised. She looked at herself, bloody and healthy. She ran her hands over her stomach. “Is my baby…”

“Of course,” he said, sounding offended. “I am a professional.”

A wave of relief rolled over her with an intensity that shocked her. Tears flooded her eyes, and she examined her skin so he wouldn’t notice. Thin pink lines showed where the rocks had pierced her. She flaked the dried blood off them. “Impressive work,” she said, struggling to sound calm. “Thank you.”

“We are not supposed to make exceptions, but for twenty-five thousand… With that many souls, I would never have another stillbirth.” She heard wonder in his voice.

She looked up at him for the first time without the haze of pain. The munaqsri was a thin Inuit man with a caterpillar-fuzz mustache. He looked young—maybe Jeremy’s age—but that didn’t mean anything with munaqsri. He had shaved his hair so short that his scalp was visible. He should have transplanted it to his upper lip instead, she thought. His sparse mustache (plus the khakis, shirt, and tie) made him look more like a kid at his first job interview than a caretaker of the human race.

“The souls,” he prompted. “Where are they?”

He had to be a new munaqsri. That would explain why he’d miscalculated and let her see him. She thought of stories of people who saw angels before they died. Perhaps more people saw munaqsri than anyone knew. “I can’t promise the souls will be unclaimed forever,” she cautioned. “Their munaqsri is out of his region, but he could come back at any time.”

“Is it likely?” he asked.

She grinned. “I have been told it’s impossible.” It was as impossible as a talking bear, as impossible as running hundreds of miles in minutes, as impossible as her being alive, as impossible as birth. Cassie hugged her stomach. “Ever heard of a castle that’s east of the sun and west of the moon?”

He shrugged. “If it were anyone’s region, it would be mine. I’m assigned all the obscure locations.”

Oh, wow, had she finally had a stroke of good luck? Cassie felt like singing.

“But it won’t become my region until a human has been born or has died there.” He scanned the trees. “Now that I think of it, this is the first time I have ever been here. Very nice.”

“Mmm,” she said noncommittally. If she had her way, she was never going to see another tree as long as she lived. “So you can’t go east of the sun now?” It had been too much to hope for. Not being dead was enough of a gift. Besides, it didn’t matter that he couldn’t reach the troll castle. Her grandfather could. The munaqsri helped her stand, and she dusted herself off. Dirt stuck to the caking blood. She looked like she had been in a train wreck, but she felt like she could race up a mountain. “Do you know the North Wind?”

“What does he have to do with the souls?”

“Do you know him?” she pressed.

“Only in passing.” He frowned, clearly unhappy with her change of subject.

“Could I get his attention from a mountain?”

“Twenty-five thousand souls, you said.”

Cassie took a deep breath and said in a rush, “Take me to a mountain, and I’ll tell you which species is missing its munaqsri.” She knew she was asking a lot. After all, he had already saved her life.

He scowled. “You’re trying to trick me.”

Cassie shook her head vehemently. “I promise I’ll tell you at the mountain.”

“You promised before.”

She glanced up at a gathering horde of chattering squirrels. Were they spies? “I’ve learned to be meticulous about promises to munaqsri. You assumed.”

“You’re going to destroy my reputation,” he said.

“You don’t have a reputation,” she said. “No one knows munaqsri exist.”

He shifted uncomfortably. “The other munaqsri… They talk. Most wouldn’t have saved you. But I need those souls… I hate being helpless at births.”

Cassie thought of how Bear had reacted when a cub had been stillborn. She’d picked the best possible enticement for a munaqsri, she realized. “Think what it will do to your reputation if the other munaqsri find out you saved me without learning about the souls,” she said. As if to emphasize her point, orange and gold leaves rustled. A lithe figure of twigs and leaves scurried across the branches. The human munaqsri glanced at the birch-man, and Cassie’s heart thumped in her throat. Quickly, she added, “But I wouldn’t worry about them finding out. No one will know but you, me, and the entire boreal forest of North America.”

“This is extortion,” he said.

“Pretty much, yes,” Cassie said. She tried to sound nonchalant. “Now, do you want those souls or not?” Please, say yes.

He laughed and held out his hand. “You are something,” he said. “I’ll warn you: I’m fast.”

Cassie took his hand. Her heart sang. “Trust me. I can handle it.” On healed feet, she climbed out of the streambed over her own bloodstains. Squirrels chittered insistently. She saw trees writhing up over the munaqsri’s shoulder. Bark melted together. She had to go now. The human munaqsri turned to look, and Cassie leaned heavily onto his hand to distract him. She saw a blur between the spruces and said, “Come on. Impress me.”

Flashing her a grin, the human munaqsri yanked her through the trees. Branches broke in rapid succession, sounding like a string of firecrackers. “Impressed?” he called back to her.

The trees were in motion behind them. “Not yet,” she said.

He increased speed. Spruces flashed within inches. She yelped as a branch whipped her ankle. “Ow!” With the munaqsri touching her, the gash healed instantly.

“Trust me!” he said.

“Keep my limbs attached!”

Swerving like a fighter jet, he flew through the forest. She felt wind rush over her ears, and she wondered what happened when a munaqsri made Mach 1. Now would be a great time to test it. “Faster!” she said. She could not see distinct trees now—only dark shadow flashes. Fallen leaves showered in cyclones behind the munaqsri and Cassie. Only then, at impossible, dangerous speeds, did she begin to feel safe.

He stopped suddenly, and she shot forward, catching herself before she hit the rock slope. The munaqsri steadied her, and she saw the mountain rising up in front of her. “You did it,” she breathed. She was on a mountainside above the tree line. She wanted to dance. Free of the forest!

“Twenty-five thousand,” he reminded her.

“No promises about the souls’ munaqsri,” she said. “He could return.” She wanted that clear. When Bear came back, she didn’t want this man who had saved her life to feel cheated. She owed him that much at least.

He nodded hurriedly. “Tell me.”

“Polar bears,” she said.

“Arctic is my territory!” He turned to face north, as eager as a greyhound poised to run. “You’re sure?”

Cassie smiled wryly. “I’d stake my life on it.”

“I thank you. Newborns thank you,” he said. “Good luck reaching the wind. What do you want with him anyway? He’s reported to be… difficult.”