The Entirely True Story of the Unbelievable FIB

by Adam Shaughnessy

  Pru was kneeling at the foot of her father’s grave when Mister Fox caught up to her. She didn’t look up as she heard him approach. She just traced the letters, written in stone, in front of her. Beloved Father.

  “You can’t make me go,” she said as the detective came to a stop.

  “No, I can’t.”

  “So why are you even here?” Pru said, wiping a sleeve across her face.

  Mister Fox waited. He stood behind her dad’s headstone, appearing to rise up behind it, stone-­faced and grave.

  “Say something!” Pru stood and faced the detective. “You’re useless! You’re not even trying to help me! You don’t care!”

  Silence in the graveyard.

  “It’s not supposed to be like this!” Pru raged.

  “Like what, Pru?”

  “You’re not supposed to leave!”

  The words tore up through Pru from someplace deep inside her. They were alive and they were angry, and they came up all on their own.

  “You’re the grown-­up! You’re supposed to stay! You’re supposed to keep me safe.” Pru gasped for air as the storm that had been coming for such a long time finally broke. “That’s all you grown-­ups ever talk about, right? Keeping kids safe. But it’s such a lie. You’re all such liars! You leave when we need you and nothing is safe!”

  “And there it is,” Mister Fox said, his voice soft, a whisper among the dead. “The greatest lie of them all. The worst lie of them all, and the one we tell most often to ourselves and to our children—that the world is safe, or that it can be made so.”

  “So you admit it! You admit you’re all liars!”

  “Do I admit I’m a liar? I admit to having a complicated relationship with the truth, on occasion,” the detective said with a sly smile, which might have also been a little sad. “But in this instance I think you’ll find me innocent. I never told you the world was safe. But I’m sure others have. And it’s a wonderful lie, isn’t it? A beautiful fiction.”

  “Not when you see through it,” Pru spat.

  “No. No, not when you see through it. Still, in my experience, some people live their whole lives and never have to confront this particular lie. They stay safe, and so do the people they love. But you’re right. Other people learn the truth, and some of them learn it at far too young an age.”

  “So what are those people supposed to even do?” she said. The words came from the empty place inside Pru.

  “I don’t know the answer to that question,” Mister Fox said. He took a deep breath. “Not for sure. But I’ll tell you what I think. I think those people find a way through the woods. Different people take different paths, but most of them find a way, sooner or later. Because, in the end, I think it all comes back to those stories about the things that children find in the woods.”

  “Wolves. Witches. Giants,” Pru said, remembering her first real conversation with the man in gray, on a day that had vibrated with fear but also newness and the excitement of things not-­yet-­discovered.

  Mister Fox continued. “You know, there are whole volumes of stories about the terrible things that children can find in the woods. Most people see those stories as warnings to stay away, to stay safe. I don’t. Because if you think about it, all those stories that are supposedly meant to keep children out of the woods tell them something else, too. They tell them that’s where the magic is.”

  As Mister Fox spoke, a small crack appeared in the clouds overhead. The thinnest ray of sun shone through, the first in what felt like forever, almost as if it had been prearranged.

  “So you see,” Mister Fox said, “I don’t think those stories are a warning at all. I think they’re a message. They tell you that you can’t have magic without monsters. Now, some people spend their whole lives trying to hide from the monsters because they can make the world a frightening place. And the world can be frightening. It can be terrifying. That’s the truth. But that’s not the entire truth. There’s a difference. There are whole worlds of difference between things that are true and the entire truth.

  “The entire truth is that anything is possible, Pru, not just the awful things. Not just the monsters. There’s magic out there, too, in the woods, in the world. Talking squirrels. Brave companions. Traveling houses. There’s so much to see and explore, if only we’re open to it. If only we’re willing to risk being unsafe and unsure, at least on occasion.”

  Adjusting the brim of his hat, Mister Fox looked Pru directly in the eye.

  “I’ll never tell you that there aren’t monsters out there. And I can’t promise you’ll always be safe from them. This is what I can tell you, Pru. My truth. There are things out there in the world that are worth braving the monsters for.”

  Listening, Pru felt herself fill with something new, something that hadn’t been there before. It felt something like hope, but one fact remained.

  “I’m scared.”

  “Of course you are. I was when I was your age and I faced a similar situation.”

  “You faced giants?”

  “No. But I faced a witch, remember? And even though I was frightened at first, that encounter set me on a path of adventure,” Mister Fox said, with a twitching nose. “I’m still on that path, really. But you’ve heard my story. Now it’s time for you and your story. And being scared is a good way to start a story. It’s smart to be scared. Just don’t make the mistake that so many people make. Don’t just be scared. Because scared is such a little thing, when you look at it. I mean, when you really look at it, it’s tiny. And you, you’re so much bigger.”

  Pru snorted at that, unaccustomed as she was to being called big.

  “Well, not literally, of course,” Mister Fox corrected. “I mean, physically speaking, you’re a bit small for your age.”

  Inside her sneaker, Pru flexed the toes of her kicking foot.

  “But that’s the thing about being a kid, isn’t it? Kids are the Henhouse. Deceptively small on the outside, and so full of possibility on the inside. That’s why you can do things I can’t. Because you’re made of possibility. It’s not a choice or a state of mind. It’s who you are. You can do anything. Giants? Giants should flee in terror from people who are a bit small for their age.”

  Pru hesitated. She’d been afraid for such a long time. It was hard to let go. “What will happen if I don’t go? Will ABE be okay?”

  Mister Fox looked off into the distance again.

  “Sure he will,” he said, after considering the question for a moment. “ABE’s a smart kid. He’ll be fine. Everything will work out for the best.”

  Pru considered that.

  “I don’t believe you,” she said finally.

  “No. I don’t suppose you do.”

  In that moment, Pru understood why Mister Fox always smiled with that lopsided grin of his. Even as joy and delight lifted one side of his mouth, grief and loss weighed down the other.

  “So what do I do first?” she asked. “What happens now?”

  “Now? Isn’t it obvious? Now, Prudence Potts, now you have an adventure.”

  CHAPTER

  22

  PRU AND MISTER FOX RETURNED TO THE HENHOUSE to find the doors open and waiting. Inside, Mister Fox led Pru to a new room filled with maps, where he proceeded to select, unroll, and promptly discard a number of parchments before finally uncovering the one he wanted.

  Pru nearly jumped out of her skin when a pair of floating hands appeared to take the selected map from Mister Fox, who seemed not at all surprised by the development.

  “What was that?” Pru demanded.

  “That was one of the domovye. You really ought to pay attention. They’re how I communicate with the Henhouse. I would have introduced you, but they’re still a little upset with you for trying to set fire to the place.”

  With a twinge of guilt, Pru recalled knocking down the oil lamps. She also recalled the noise that had drawn her into the Henhouse the day before and wondered if the domovye had been responsible for that.

 
Not long after the spirit departed, the Henhouse lurched the way a person might when getting up for a stretch after a long sit. The sound of creaking wood and rustling feathers once more filled the air—only this time it came from all around Pru. Again, Mister Fox gave no evidence of being surprised.

  The rustling sound was followed by the unmistakable sensation of traveling up, like being in an elevator. Pru grabbed a nearby table and held on for her life. “What’s happening? Are we flying?”

  “That’s not quite the word I’d use.”

  The Henhouse’s ascent slowed, and for one breathless moment it seemed to hang in the air. Then Pru experienced the equally unmistakable but far more alarming sensation of falling, like she imagined it would feel to be in an elevator plunging downward so fast that you just know that you’re about to get squashed.

  “We’re falling!” Pru shouted when she was able to catch her breath.

  “Now that’s the exact word I’d use,” Mister Fox said, laughing.

  This wasn’t an elevator ride for him—it was a roller coaster.

  Pru barely had time to imagine what life as a pancake might be like before the Henhouse’s downward motion came to a bouncy but otherwise not-­flattening stop.

  “What just happened?” Pru said between gasps. “That was unbelievable!”

  “That? That was nothing. You want to see unbelievable?” He led Pru back to the front doors and opened them. “This is unbelievable.”

  The doors opened onto a world that was new. Pru exited the Henhouse and looked out on Asgard. She saw grass so green and a sky so blue and wide and open that it almost hurt to look at them. It made her feel small and big all at the same time. The horizon lay infinitely far away, across an endless plain, and yet Pru felt she could reach out and touch it with her finger, the way kids in a schoolyard will eclipse the sun with their thumb and seem to know what it’s like to be able to touch the stars.

  “What do you see?” Mister Fox asked.

  Pru turned around to find the detective shrouded in the shadows of the Henhouse, a few steps behind her. The light from Asgard didn’t touch him.

  “You can’t see it, can you?”

  “Not from here, no.” Mister Fox’s face was unreadable. “If I go upstairs to the round window you saw on your first visit, then I can see. That glass is enchanted like my looking glass. But from here, all I see is the graveyard, always and only the graveyard. So tell me, what’s out there?”

  “A big open plain, covered in grass.” Pru walked to the edge of the small porch and looked around the corner. “And over there, on the left, there’s a mountain in the distance. It’s a really big one. It goes right up into the clouds.”

  She squinted, her eyes still adjusting to the light.

  “No, wait. I don’t think it is a mountain, actually. It’s . . .” She brought a hand up to shield her eyes and get a better look. “No way.”

  “What is it?”

  “It’s . . . it’s an upside-­down tree,” Pru said. “But that’s impossible. The trunk is coming down from the clouds, and the branches are all spread out into the ground. It’s huge. Also, did I mention? It’s upside down. How does a tree even get to be that big? And upside down.”

  “That’s Yggdrasil, the giant ash tree that has one root in each of the three worlds of Norse mythology. You’re seeing the root that goes into Asgard. Loki will be somewhere there, looking for the Eye of Odin. ABE will be there, too.”

  “But it’s so far away, and Loki has a whole day’s head start.”

  “You’re still thinking in terms of your world. Worlds of Myth are immortal realms. Time and distance work differently here. We got here sooner than you think, and the distance is less than you think. Now, is there any sign of Ratatosk?”

  “No,” Pru answered, scanning the horizon again.

  “You’ll have to start without him. Events will move more quickly now that we’re here in Asgard. Take this.” Mister Fox reached into his coat pocket and removed his looking glass. “It allows me to track Mythics. As they move through Earth, their passing creates a disturbance in the air like the sheen of oil in water. The looking glass magnifies the effect and makes it easier to see. The same principle will work in reverse here. With this, you’ll be able to track ABE’s movements across Asgard.”

  Pru considered the vast distance before her. It seemed so far to go.

  “What if I’m not good enough?” she asked. Then, before Mister Fox could argue, she added, “No, really. I mean, ABE was better. Don’t ever tell him I said that. But he figured out who Fay was before I did. He saw the message in her name first.”

  After a moment’s hesitation, Mister Fox stepped out onto the porch. The light of Asgard’s sun still didn’t touch him. In fact, he appeared more gray than usual. Only his eyes stood out, blue and clear.

  “And is that how you discovered the truth about Fay?” Mister Fox asked, his nose twitching.

  “Well, no. I sort of figured it out from something Ratatosk said about Loki that reminded me of Fay.”

  “I thought as much. Listen, Pru. ABE is brilliant. He is. But the thing about ABE is that he’s so . . . honest. That’s what makes him ABE. And he’s so honest himself, he sees the world honestly. He sees the truth of things.”

  Pru hadn’t thought of it like that, but it made sense.

  “But as ABE sees truth, Pru, you see possibilities. You make connections and put pieces together. Where ABE sees things how they are, you see things how they could be. And that’s what all the very best detectives do.”

  Pru straightened her shoulders and drew in her breath. “Thanks . . . really. Okay. Right. I can do this. I can chase down Loki and get ABE back from a small army of frost giants. Because I see things how they could be. And because I’ve got a magnifying glass. But, you know, it’s also a mirror, so no sweat.”

  Pru’s shoulders drooped as, despite her best efforts to stay positive, the reality of what she was about to try pressed in. “Seriously. What am I supposed to do, ask Loki and the giants nicely to give me ABE back?”

  “You, ask nicely? Now that’s something I’d like to see.”

  “That’s not funny.” But it was, kind of, and Pru felt a little better.

  “Pru, you’ve got more than the looking glass at your disposal. Think about it. On Earth, Mythics pass unnoticed because they’re from a different world. What do you think that means for you, a mortal, here on Asgard?”

  “I’ll be invisible!” Pru exclaimed as understanding struck. “Is that right? That is so cool.”

  “Not quite invisible, no. But you’ll be unnoticeable. It’s not just a matter of sight. Do you know the saying ‘Out of sight, out of mind’? That’s almost how it works here: Out of mind, out of sight. Mythics won’t see you here because they don’t have you in their thoughts. They won’t be able to focus on you visually or mentally.”

  “Like my mom when I tried to show her your invitation, or Sergeant Mahoney with Thor.”

  “Exactly. Just don’t do anything to call attention to yourself and you’ll be able to slip in, find ABE, and slip out.”

  “But what about the Eye of Odin?”

  “One thing at a time. Get in, get ABE, get out. Got it?”

  Pru nodded.

  “Good. Off you go, then. Have fun and try not to get stepped on.”

  Pru decided she would take the high road and not stick her tongue out. Then she stuck it out anyway, quickly, and turned to take her first steps into a new world.

  Time and distance blurred as Pru ran across the Asgardian plain. No matter how far or fast she went, she didn’t tire. The air filled her lungs and nourished her. The grass beneath her feet did more than cushion her steps, it compelled them and drove her on. She felt like she could run forever.

  Pru intercepted ABE’s trail soon enough—it appeared just like Mister Fox had said it would, a glow in the air not unlike the sheen of oil on water. It was the same effect Pru had seen at the Fort of the Fallen in the moments after the gian
t’s disappearance. Sure enough, it led right to Yggdrasil.

  The giant tree grew larger as Pru drew closer. Far overhead, the single root split again and again. As it neared the ground, it created a forest of smaller roots, each as large as any tree on Earth. When Pru arrived at the outer edge of that forest of roots, she saw that it extended as far as she could see in either direction. Drawing a deep breath, she stepped inside.

  Though no leaves graced the tops of the treelike growths all around her, the woodland through which Pru moved swarmed with greenery and life. Moss covered stones, and the green shoots of shaded plants were everywhere. They filled the air with a pleasant, emerald tint as all manner of animals scampered about. Pru saw deer and birds. Once, she spotted a fox, which she took as a good omen. She did not see any squirrels, although she kept her eyes (and ears) open for one in particular.

  A few steps into the growth, Pru remembered to check the fox-­head looking glass once more. The light shimmering through the glass was getting brighter. She seemed to be getting close.

  At a rustling in the undergrowth, Pru halted. Her first thought was that Ratatosk might have found her. But whatever was causing the rustling was too big to be a squirrel. It was also getting closer. Pru found a particularly thick root behind which she could hide. She crouched and willed herself to be unnoticeable.

  A figure emerged from the greenery, slightly taller than Pru, with a mess of blond hair and no freckles at all, which Pru hardly noticed as a surge of relief swept through her.

  “ABE!” She leapt forward and grabbed ABE in a hug.

  “Pru? Is that really you?” It was hard to tell what startled ABE more, Pru’s appearance or the fact that she was hugging him.

  “It’s me,” she said, releasing him and stepping back.

  “But . . . I . . . What are you doing here?”