The stream that ran through Fernweald had always been clear and quick. But one morning, its water turned silver and slow. The little people gathered at its banks, whispering.
"The river is speaking," Thorn said.
Lily knelt and touched the water. It was warm, and it hummed with a low, familiar song. She closed her eyes and listened.
"Follow me," the river seemed to say.
She walked along its bank, the little people following. The stream led them to a place they had never seen—a grove of glowing flowers, their petals shaped like tiny stars.
"What is this place?" Bramble asked.