EllaMae knelt at the edge of the grove and pressed her palm to the moss. The old tree above her had not bloomed in a hundred years. She had come here every morning for a month to coax it awake, singing soft, leaving berries on the roots, waiting for one bud. Today the moss under her hand was gray. The blight had crossed into the grove's outer ring overnight. I crouched beside her. Her blue sundress caught on a root as she stood. She twisted her hair ribbon around one finger, the way she did when she was scared and trying not to show it. "If it reaches the heartwood, the spirit goes silent," she said. "Deeper than before. We won't get her back." We followed the gray line back through the trees. Fifty paces out, we found them. Three small figures with tall pointed hats and long white beards were pressing their hands into a birch trunk. Where they touched, the bark turned to ash. The tallest one, in a torn pink hat, looked up at us with yellow eyes and grinned. Two more scuttled from the underbrush to join them. "Gnomes," EllaMae whispered. "They're spreading it by touch." I reached for the pouch at my belt. Inside, four small dragons stirred. We had found them last week in a hollow log, no bigger than sparrows, blue and red-winged, all breath and no aim. They liked EllaMae. They landed on her shoulders and singed her ribbon when they sneezed. I tipped the pouch. The dragons tumbled out and hovered, chirping. "Watch me," EllaMae said to them. She pointed at a dead leaf on the ground. "Burn that. Only that." The smallest dragon puffed a flame at her knee. She flinched and laughed and pointed again. "The leaf. There." The second dragon spat. The leaf curled black. EllaMae clapped once, and all four dragons rose an inch, pleased. She pointed at the gnome in the pink hat. The dragons hesitated. The gnome hissed and shoved its hand deeper into the birch. Bark blackened up to the first branch. "Now," I said. EllaMae stepped between the dragons and the gnome so they had a clear line. She held out her arm like a branch. "Follow the ribbon," she told them, and untied the blue bow from her hair. She threw it. The dragons chased. It landed at the gnome's feet. Four small mouths opened. Four small fires met in the middle. The gnomes shrieked and burned fast, like dry straw. The gray line stopped moving. The birch stood scorched but alive. EllaMae picked up what was left of her ribbon, singed at both ends. She was smiling, but her hand shook. "That was five of them," she said. "There will be more. And the dragons only listen to me when I'm right there with them." She looked back toward the grove. Something under the moss was shifting.