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Mara has a fleeting memory of the realworld fox that ravaged Wing’s lambs and chickens before it was
finally trapped and killed… but what on Earth is a fox doing way out here?
    The cyberfox is as still as a statue. Mara feels the fiercest concentration emanate from that intense stillness as the creature strains to sense all that it can of her
.
    â€œWhat do you know about once upon a time?” The cyberfox bares its teeth as Mara says nothing. She has no idea how to answer
.
    â€œLook, I’ve tumbled out of the Weave and I haven’t a clue where I—”
    She falters as the fox pads closer, its teeth still bared, a faint snarl on its breath
.
    â€œWhere are you from?” it demands in a tone that prickles Mara’s skin. “I mean in realworld—where are you from?”
    â€œWing,” Mara answers automatically as the fox closes in
.
    â€œWing?” The fox stops dead, turns still as stone, all senses on full alert. “A new city?” the fox says at last, uncertainly. “I’ve never heard of that one.”
    Mara’s eyes widen at this and she lifts her gaze from the fox up to the colossal towers
.
    â€œIt’s an—an island,” Mara stutters. “But what do you know about new cities? Are there really such things?”
    â€œAn island?” the fox murmurs huskily, ignoring her questions. Its fur bristles. A glistening tongue trembles between its teeth. It licks its lips. “There are still islands? Where? Where’s this island?”
    Mara drags her eyes from the gleaming towers and notes the fox-hunger, a desperate curiosity as intense as her own. She frowns. “You asked where I’m from in real-world. How does a cyberfox know about realworld? Are you real?” The frown lifts and her eyes widen. “Do you exist in realworld too?”
    The fox looks at her warily, hesitates, then slowly nods
.
    Mara gasps. Never in all her cybertravels has she met another realworld being—only lumens and ghosts and all the other weird electronic creatures of the Weave
.
    â€œWho are you? Where are you in realworld?” breathes Mara. She looks up again at the crystal towers behind the fox and hopes with all her might that her hunch is right
.
    â€œI asked you first,” says the fox
.
    â€œI told you, I’m from an island. It’s in the North Atlantic.”
    â€œAn island,” whispers the fox. Its eyes shine with wonder. “You live on a real island? In the North Atlantic? Where’s that?”
    â€œIt’s the ocean,” says Mara, unsurprised by his ignorance because she knows so little of the world herself. Tain has told her that the lands once separated the oceans and they had different names, but the Atlantic is all she knows. “But please tell me—I need to know—what are those great towers behind you?”
    â€œThe fox barely glances over its shoulder. “It’s the New World.”
    â€œThe New World!” cries Mara. She hugs herself with joy. “Then it really does exist!”
    And yet—she stops and her brow furrows in concentration. Those gigantic towers are only a cybervision. She needs to know if the real thing exists. She turns to the fox who is staring at her more fiercely than ever
.
    â€œDoes the New World exist in realworld too?” Mara demands. “Are there really giant cities that rise up above the oceans?”
    â€œOf course,” shrugs the fox. “It’s all there is—at least I thought so. That’s what we’ve been told. But you say you live on an island. So there are islands in the world!” The fox turns urgent. “Tell me about your island. Tell me about once upon a time. Tell me now!”
    But Mara is filled with her own sense of urgency. Beyond the fox, beyond the great towers, she seems to see another crest rising faintly out of the cyberhaze. She looks harder, deeper, farther, and sees another, she is sure.