The next morning, one of the witch queens didn’t show up to bathe in the hot spring.

“Where’s Hex?”

I was asking Hag, but Hiss answered.

“None of your business.”

“It’s my business if she doesn’t come back.”

“Oh really? You don’t look like Thrasher.”

“Thrasher’s not here, so it’s my business.”

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Hiss flapped her wings, flipped her black hair over her shoulder, and turned away from me. “Don’t act like you moved up in the flock just because Moose is dead.”

“I don’t have to move up. I’m already at the top.”

“Top?” Hag wrinkled her nose, making the black and white paint on her face twist into new shapes. “You don’t have any females and you won’t get any females, Angelpunk. You’re at the bottom and you always will be.”

“You wouldn’t say that if you saw my mating dance.”

She hopped into the water. “Besides, you won’t find Hex, even if you look. She’s nesting.”

“With a monster around?”

Since they were both getting in, I got on the rocks with my wings to the cliff and stretched up to watch the trees for anything that shouldn’t be there.

“I told you,” Hag said, shuffling in the hot water, “her nesting spot is well-hidden. Nothing can find her.”