“Why does the squirrel get to touch the tulip before Eldrene? I don’t get to know the colors ahead of time, but some wood rat gets to poke around in the box?” She threw her parchment on the ground, stomping on more carrot tops in the process.
But her temper tantrum was the least of my worries. Because, for the second time today, Helda was not wrong. The box under the oak tree lay empty, and a squirrel with a tulip bulb in its mouth dashed for my garden gate.
My heart stopped.
“No!” I shouted, leaning too far forward from my place on the window ledge and falling into the rosemary bushes below.
I rolled my ankle in the process and yelled a slew of curses.
Helda stopped her protests and tried to assist me, but I threw her hand away as I struggled to get up. My shoe wedged deep into the roots, and after a few unsuccessful tugs, I unlaced my boot and left it behind, setting off in a mad half-limp, half-run dash after the squirrel.
He was already far ahead, but I could see his black-tufted tail on the horizon. A Shadow Woods Squirrel then. So he wouldn’t divert to any nearby woods. He’d head straight back to his native murky forest, which required going through Moss’s main street. My only chance to catch him would be there.
If he got to the forest, the Crown Jewel Tulip would be impossible to recover.
If I lost the Crown Jewel Tulip, the Goddess Celebration would be ruined.
If the Goddess Celebration was ruined, Eldrene, the protector of this realm, would wither away.
I picked up my pace, my legs burning and my ankle throbbing. We crested the last hill that led into town and barreled down the sloping ridge. My feet hit the cobblestones, and I was grateful that Moss still slept. They usually awoke to Francis playing his lute, but today, more than likely, folks were startling awake from my bare feet slapping the stones.
The squirrel slowed slightly. The tulip bulb must have been heavier than he anticipated. A thrill of triumph went through me. My breath came in hot, sharp pants, but my pace only quickened. If I could just get my hands on the bastard…
The fiend darted into an alleyway filled with seller wagons.
I smiled. That alley was a dead-end, and he was dead meat.
A rip filled the air; my dress snagged on the jam lady’s cart, sending it teetering. I reached out to right it when the squirrel darted in between my feet and tripped me. I went sailing, the jam cart toppling and taking the ale and baker cart down along with it.
Broken glass scattered everywhere, and all sorts of reddish liquid now covered my dress. I let out an almighty shriek and scrambled back up again, ignoring the searing pain in my foot from stomping on the shards.
I was gaining on him now. He may be fast, but I knew these streets far too well to be bested by a squirrel. His claws pulled at the thatched roofs as he went along, raining hay down and blurring my vision.
We reached the last row of cottages just before the grassy clearing that led into Moss Wood. My legs burned with white-hot fire, my twisted ankle screamed, and my bare foot profusely bled, but if I could get to the end of the street before he did, he’d have no choice but to land in my arms. The worldwould be right again, the tulip would be safe, and my nemesis would be in a stew by the evening.
He made it to the last cottage, readying for a jump, but I beat him to the chase.
Got you.The squirrel leapt into the air, his body mere centimeters away from my outstretched arms—
The world split in two.
My skull cracked in half.
The world went dark. I was probably a little dead. Or a lot.
A door. A Goddess-damned door had opened, and I’d run straight into it, falling back into a pile of steaming hot horse shite. At least it cushioned the back of my head from busting on the cobblestones.
“Are you all right?” a gravelly voice asked through the haze. Two rough hands tried to hoist me up.
“Get off me!” I pushed them away. They were shockingly difficult to move. “Where is it?” I asked frantically, straining to focus.
“Where’s what?” the stranger asked gently.
“The squirrel!” I sounded deranged, scanning the roofs for the beast. But hot tears blurred my vision, turning the world into watercolor slashes against the morning sky. My heart began to crumple. No squirrel. No tulip. Utter disaster. He had escaped, and I failed. The stranger offered a hand again, and I swatted it away. “Whoever you are, I don’t need your help. You’ve done enough.”
“I heard a commotion,” the voice replied. Bits of my vision started to come back, but all I could see was a swirling shadow in front of me. My head suddenly became too heavy to hold up and dropped to the side. Rough hands caught it immediately.
“I said”—I gritted my teeth—“I don’t need your help.” I tried to move, but flashes of pain seared through me, and I fell back to the ground again.
