Princess Arabella needed to reach the prince's court, and she needed to reach it before her kingdom fell. Word had come that morning: soldiers massed at her borders. Her small kingdom could not fight them alone. But the prince who ruled the distant court would only marry someone who matched him in wit and courage. Marry him, and she would have his army. Fail, and her people would burn. The trouble was the wilderness between here and there. No roads crossed it. Her only carriage stood in the yard beside her flower-covered cottage, and she had no horses fit for the journey. Arabella sat on the doorstep in her glass slippers and thought hard. Her power was simple and dangerous. Whatever she truly believed became real. She had learned to fear that gift. Once she believed the world was completely safe, and the belief soured into a fear that walked out of her on six legs, smelling of burnt sugar. It still roamed loose. She had not caught it yet. So she chose her next belief with care. Her pet bunny hopped onto her knee. It had spotted fur and bright blue eyes, and it watched her the way it always did, as if it understood. "I need something that can cross the wild lands," Arabella told it. "Something that doesn't need roads." The bunny's ears twitched. "Then don't build a horse," it said softly. "Build something that flies." Arabella smiled. She closed her eyes and pictured it clearly. Not a monster. Not a fear. A creature that could carry her over the trees and rivers, gentle and strong. She held the picture until it felt more true than the ground under her feet. The air shimmered. A pony stepped out of the light. Its coat was pale, dusted with soft spots in every color. Two broad wings folded against its sides. It nuzzled her shoulder, and it smelled like clean rain, not burnt sugar. Relief loosened her chest. This one had come out right. "You did it," the bunny said. Arabella climbed onto the pony's back. She looped one hand in its mane and settled the bunny in the crook of her arm. The wings spread wide and beat down. The cottage dropped away beneath her, small and bright among its wildflowers. She rose above the treeline and turned toward the distant court. The wilderness spread out below, trackless and green. The pony carried her over it as if the miles were nothing. Then the wind shifted, and she caught it. A thread of smell, faint but sharp. Burnt sugar. Arabella looked down. Far below, something moved through the trees, keeping pace with her shadow. Six legs. It had found her scent, and now it followed her toward the prince.