Peggy closed her eyes and saw her river of stars, her forest glade, and the dunce-hat towers against an inky sky with a crescent bowl of moon. “They are like dreams. In a fairy tale, words and curses and spells have power. There is magic. Everything is animated, from a grass blade to a talking owl, from a table carved of hazelwood to a fish that warns you not to drink the river water.” She opened her eyes and looked at him, wanting him to understand. “Magic is the point of it
