Twobble leaned toward me and whispered,
“Please tell me you recognize that voice.”
I swallowed.
“I do.”
“And?”
I kept staring into the trees.
“…that’s the problem, I don’t know where from.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Twobble moved before I could.
One second, he was beside me, and the next, he had planted himself squarely in front of me with both arms spread wide like a very determined, very undersized shield.
“Absolutely not,” he said firmly.
Skonk shuffled behind me at the same time, the movement surprisingly quick for someone who had eaten three pastries and possibly a fourth he hadn’t confessed to. He grabbed my broom and held it like a spear.
“I wouldn’t recommend moving toward the voice,” Skonk whispered.
I glanced back at him.
He lifted the broom slightly.
“I think now is the time we move away from it,” he added under his breath. “I’ve got your broom locked and loaded and ready to go.”
Despite the uneasy twist in my stomach, a small smile slipped out.
Nobody had that broom locked and loaded.
It had a mind of its own, and if anything, it had probably decided the rest of us were the passengers in this situation.
Twobble shifted his weight, still standing in front of me like a goblin-sized barricade.
“You heard the man,” he said. “Strategic retreat. Very dignified. Happens all the time.”
The voice didn’t call again, but the quiet ahead of us felt different now. It wasn’t empty. It was waiting.
I stepped around Twobble.
He immediately sidestepped with me.
“No,” he said.
I took another step forward.
He shuffled again.
“Maeve.”
Behind me, Skonk whispered, “We should probably go.”
“I’m just going to look,” I said.
