by Jenn Reese
They. All the people who came to the hospital and asked questions. All the people who weren’t in their family, who weren’t supposed to know.
Aunt Vicky crossed the room and pulled Caitlin close, wrapped her tightly in her arms, and held her. Caitlin wasn’t crying, but tears slid down Aunt Vicky’s face. Tears out of nowhere. “I know,” Aunt Vicky said. “I understand.”
Sam waited for Caitlin to push Aunt Vicky away.
Push her away! Break the spell!
“It’s going to be okay,” Aunt Vicky said into Caitlin’s hair. “You’re safe now.”
And in that moment, Sam realized that Caitlin had broken their family, and she’d done it on purpose. She’d pushed their father too far. She’d wanted to go to the hospital. She’d wanted the police to come. She’d wanted the caseworkers to ask all those horrible questions, over and over, until Sam and Caitlin had ended up on a plane to another state.
Hannah touched Sam’s arm, but Sam jerked away.
“I’m sorry I startled you,” Hannah said quickly. She held out her hand. “I need you to give me the letter, sweetie. Your caseworkers want to read everything first, and we need to do as they ask. We all just want to protect you and your sister.”
Sam shook her head. No. No, no, no.
“Give it to her, Sam,” Caitlin said angrily. Aunt Vicky put her hand on Caitlin’s shoulder.
Sam backed away from the kitchen table. Backed away from Hannah standing with her hand out, and from Caitlin and Aunt Vicky pretending to be a family by the sofa.
How long had Sam’s parents been trying to contact her?
How many letters had Hannah and Aunt Vicky stolen?
A prickly ball lodged itself in Sam’s throat. Words couldn’t get out, not without a lot of other stuff getting out, too. What could she do?
She could run.
She could rip open the letter and try to read it.
She could rip it up so no one could read it.
But such open defiance was so risky. So dangerous. It was not a thing Sam knew how to do. Hannah and Aunt Vicky had asked for the letter, and Sam had no real choice but to give it to them.
It felt like she was handing over her entire self.
“Thank you,” Hannah said. She folded the letter in half and put it into her pocket. Sam watched her carefully with a storm in her eyes. Hannah patted her pocket and pulled her shirt over the top. She might as well have used a lock and key. “Hopefully I’ll be able to get that back to you in a few days.”
Sam clenched her fists but kept them hidden behind her back.
When she got the Golden Acorn, none of this would matter. She would fix Caitlin, and then there’d be no hospital, no Oregon, no Aunt Vicky and Hannah and Armen and Lucas. There would be no letter, because Sam would be back home with her parents the whole time.
She’d been foolish to think she could stay here, even for another night.
Outside, the storm whined and raged. The windows rattled. The trees danced with wild abandon.
The storm was not warning her. The storm was calling to her.
You’re the hero now, not Caitlin.
She needs you. Your parents need you.
Find the Golden Acorn and make everything right.
“I want to go to my room,” Sam said.
“Sam, I’m sorry,” Caitlin said. Aunt Vicky’s hand was still on her shoulder. “I didn’t mean to be a jerk to you. Stay out here with us, Sam. We’ll play a game or something. Whatever you want.”
Caitlin was trying to pull Sam off course. In Greek mythology, creatures called sirens would sit on the rocks and sing to sailors, enticing them to dive off their ships and drown in the ocean. There was a time when Sam would have followed Caitlin anywhere, done whatever she asked. But not anymore.
The Golden Acorn was waiting.
A squirrel ran past the window, her blue scarf trailing after her.
“I want to go to my room,” Sam said again, her voice steely.
“Go for a few minutes,” Hannah said. “We’ll check on you soon, and maybe then you’ll want to come back out with us. Okay?”
Sam would have said anything to leave that room. “Okay” was easy. She stomped down the hallway as Aunt Vicky pulled Caitlin into another hug.
Sam knew better than to trust cottages in the forest. They were full of magic. You ate the food, you drank the hot chocolate, and then you were stuck there forever. Sam had to fight—to keep fighting—or else she might fall under the same spell that had so clearly taken Caitlin.
Before she even got to her room, Sam noticed the leaves. Piles of them, bright green and glistening with rain, and inexplicably scattered across the hallway floor, as if blown in by the wind.
She got to her room and found the window wide open, her curtains drenched. Her bedding looked soaked, too, but that wasn’t what caught her eye. It was the acorns on her bedspread. Some perfect and some smashed. Dozens of them. Hundreds. Acorns absolutely everywhere.
Sam’s hand shook as she closed her bedroom door and locked it, quick, before anyone could see.
Thunder rolled through the sky, distant and approving.
Sam emptied the pens and notebooks from her backpack onto the floor to make room for the items she might need for her quest.
A flashlight.
BriAnn’s last letter, the one with all the pictures drawn on the envelope.
Her rumpled copy of The Hobbit.
Extra socks.
A granola bar.
The library book that would soon be overdue.
The compass Lucas had given her.
Sam’s fingers lingered a moment over the compass, then she shoved it into the pack.
She pulled on Caitlin’s hoodie and wished she had a raincoat to put over it. She’d almost never needed a raincoat back home, and it wasn’t one of the things her mother or the caseworkers had packed for her.
Sam pulled on her boots and tugged her backpack closed.
It was time.
She tossed her backpack out the window and clambered after it.
FROM THE RULES FOR FOX & SQUIRRELS
THE HUNTING FOX
When you draw a hunting Fox from the Harvest deck and do not offer him what he wants—oh, dear!
The hunting Fox snarls and growls. He sniffs and stalks. You may barely even recognize him as the same Fox who, a few moments earlier, was so very charming.
There is no escape now. You can do nothing but stare at the Fox’s fangs and wait for the sharpness of his teeth.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
SAM PULLED UP the hood of her sweatshirt and snuck through the yard in the darkness, the rain drenching her instantly. Inside the house, Aunt Vicky and Hannah and Caitlin sat on the sofa, their backs to the window. They hadn’t heard her leaving, which meant they had no chance of seeing what she was about to do.
By the time Sam reached the chicken yard, her clothes were heavy with rain. Water dripped down her cheeks and nose, fell in big drops off her chin.
The gate to the chicken yard opened with a scratchy yawn. Sam carefully closed it behind her. There was another latch on the roof of the chicken coop. After a minute of fiddling, Sam managed to pop it off and lift the lid. A metal support folded down to keep it in place.
The chickens slept on their sturdy roost above their boxes, one next to the other, just like Aunt Vicky and Caitlin and Hannah on the sofa. They seemed so content, despite the raging storm. Lady Louise was nestled at the end, a loaf of feathers almost twice as big as the others.
Don’t think about foxes, Sam told herself. Don’t think about what foxes do with chickens.
Don’t think about what happened to Pirate Princess.
She wiped her wet hands on her shorts to dry them, but her shorts were wet, too.
“I’m sorry, Lady Louise,” Sam whispered. She wished there was something she could say to the chicken to make her understand, but right now, Sam wasn’t sure she understood anything well enough herself.
She reached
for Lady Louise with cold, shaking hands. But as soon as her fingertips brushed feathers, she yanked them back, empty.
How could she do this?
It’s only a chicken. They have tiny little brains. They probably expect to be eaten by foxes.
But Lady Louise wasn’t just a chicken. She was a living creature. With a name. And with people who loved her.
People like Aunt Vicky.
The clouds writhed overhead, but suddenly there was a break in the darkness. A single shaft of moonlight escaped the barrier and sped down to Earth, as fast as it could go. It landed on Sam and lit up the ring on her hand.
Aunt Vicky’s ring.
Sam tilted the ring back and forth, letting the moonlight catch the stone from different angles. The ring seemed to absorb the glow, seemed to suck it deep inside until a blue flame pulsed within.
It was a sign that she shouldn’t sacrifice Lady Louise. Not for anyone, and not even for a quest. But then how—
“Well, well, well, what have we here?” Ashander called.
Sam spun around so fast she almost slipped. The fox strolled by outside the chicken fence, his paws clasped behind his back. The rain fell around him in sheets, but none of it seemed to touch him.
“I didn’t think you would do it,” he said. “I wanted you to, make no mistake, but I didn’t think you would.”
Behind Sam, the chickens woke and flapped their wings and squawked. They knew the fox was close, but they had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. Sam had opened the roof of their house and exposed them to their mortal enemy.
Sam stepped in between the chickens and Ashander, trying to hide them from his view as best she could.
“I’m here, aren’t I?” Sam said, sticking out her chin. She wanted his attention focused on her and not the hens. “I still have time to pass the test.” If only she could figure out how.
“I see,” Ashander said. He stalked toward her, and with every step he seemed to grow larger. By the time he stood in front of Sam—only the wire fence separating them—he was taller than her by at least a foot. “Unfortunately for you, the test has now changed.”
“What? That’s not fair!”
“Who said this was fair?” the fox countered. “But this is an even easier test. You’ll love it, I promise!”
Sam gritted her teeth. She would not love it. That much was clear. She looked around for any sign of the squirrels. What happened to all the talk of no cheating? It seemed that the rules only applied to her.
“All you have to do is open this gate to the chicken yard,” Ashander said. “Open the gate, and let me in.”
Sam sucked in her breath. If she opened the gate just to appease him, none of the chickens would stand a chance. She remembered Aunt Vicky’s face when she was talking about the neighbor’s missing chickens. Aunt Vicky’s face when she talked about chickens, period. Losing them would crush her.
Sam looked at her blue ring. The moonlight had sparked it to life, but the fire that burned inside it was Aunt Vicky’s. Sam had the power to dampen the flame, maybe to quench it forever.
A real hero would never do that.
“Open the gate, Samantha,” Ashander said, his voice sickly sweet.
Sam hated that voice. And she hated what it was trying to make her do.
“Never,” she said, and she knocked out the support that kept the chicken coop’s roof open. The lid slammed shut, securing the chickens inside.
Safe. They were safe. Sam sucked in a huge breath.
“That’s disappointing!” the fox said. His muzzle grew longer and leaner, his teeth sharper. “And I believed you were serious about finding the Golden Acorn. With the full moon tonight, you could have wished for anything—anything at all!”
Desperation ate at her. “But you’re the one who changed the test at the last minute! How am I supposed to know how to earn your favor if you’re always changing what you want?”
The fox smirked. “That sounds like your problem, Samantha, not mine.”
Sam stared at Ashander, at the forest, at the house, at the clouds. If only Maple and the squirrels were here. They might help find a way out of this. They knew Ashander far better than she did. Think. Think!
“It’s a test of sacrifice,” she said. “I can sacrifice something else. I have a compass. I have socks. I have books!” Even The Hobbit. She would even give him that.
Ashander yawned, and Sam could see every last one of his teeth.
“I can bring you fresh eggs,” Sam said. Her own teeth were starting to chatter in the rain. “If you come back to Los Angeles with me, I can even bring you fresh donuts!”
Ashander picked at his claw. “You are beginning to bore me. I’d rather make my own suggestions. Perhaps I know an excellent place to find a few tasty sacrifices.”
He looked up as he said it.
He looked into the house.
He looked at the figures sitting on the sofa, silhouetted against the window.
“Aunt Vicky is so trusting. She almost never locks the doors or windows,” Ashander said, licking his lips. “It will be so easy to slip inside, maybe at night, when everyone is sleeping. How surprised they’ll be to see me! If I give them time to be surprised at all.”
Sam felt all the strength wash out of her in one great gushing wave. He was talking about Caitlin and Aunt Vicky and Hannah. They were the sacrifices.
She should have given him Lady Louise. If she’d only grabbed the chicken right away, then he wouldn’t have asked for more. For all the chickens. For her sister. For her aunts.
Sam couldn’t imagine her life without Caitlin. She was surprised to realize that she’d miss Aunt Vicky and Hannah, too. Maybe … maybe even a lot.
This was her fault. All of it. She’d wanted to save her family, but now that word—family—was starting to mean something a little different.
There was only one thing left to try.
Sam swallowed the lump in her throat and tried to steady her voice. “I’ll be the sacrifice,” she said. “Take me, and leave my family alone.”
Ashander threw back his head and laughed.
“Oh, Sam! I knew you weren’t the selfish child that everyone said you were! You have finally cast aside your petty wants and needs, and are looking at the bigger picture.” He gripped the fence between them, his claws poking through the mesh. “You are finally looking at what I want and need.”
The fox’s eyes had gone dark and hard, and she had seen them before. So many times before. A dank chill worked its way through Sam’s body, freezing her from the inside out.
“Come out of the chicken yard, Samantha,” Ashander said quietly. “Let us see that you pass this final test.”
What had she done? What could she do?
Her mother’s voice.
What have you done? Oh, God, what have you done?
In the distance, a strange animal howled high and bright. It was no animal Sam had ever heard before.
Ashander’s ears swiveled toward the noise. His long nose sniffed the air. “Stay in your cage, little chicken,” he snarled. “I will be right back.”
The fox dropped to all four feet, and he was now as big as a wolf. He bounded into the forest in one great leap, his purple coat snapping like thunder.
Sam barely waited for him to disappear before she bolted out of the chicken yard, securing the gate behind her. She glanced at the house. Hannah was at the kitchen sink, but Aunt Vicky and Caitlin were still on the sofa, blissfully unaware of the danger they were in.
Even if Ashander took Sam as a sacrifice, he might go after Caitlin next. Even if he promised not to. Ashander kept changing the rules. There was no pleasing him, and definitely no trusting him.
Rain pelted her from above, wind buffeted her from the sides. She was suddenly grateful for the ground, which did nothing but stay firm and hold her up.
Sam touched the blue stone on her ring. A prick of warmth shot through her finger. There was magic in it still.
And there was still fight
in Sam.
She dug the compass and the flashlight from her bag. She’d wanted the Golden Acorn to take her back home, but now she needed that wish for something more important: to stop Ashander and protect the people she loved. And since the fox was no longer helping her—had maybe never been helping her—then she’d have to find the Golden Acorn herself.
FROM THE RULES FOR FOX & SQUIRRELS
PLANNING FOR THE FOX
You can try to plan for the Fox. You can save up your cards for him instead of trying to prepare for winter. Many people do. They spend so much time worried about the Fox that they forget about the rest of the game entirely.
But remember: you never know when the Fox will appear, or what kind of Fox he will be when he does.
And by then, it will be too late.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
ACCORDING TO THE compass, Ashander had raced northwest. Sam shouldered her backpack and ran northeast. Even if she couldn’t find the Golden Acorn, at least she’d be leading Ashander away from Caitlin and her aunts.
The forest loomed before her, more shadow than tree. She reached its border and plunged inside. Night had fallen hard and heavy, and it was almost pitch-black in the grip of the trees. Her backpack whacked her in the spine repeatedly because she hadn’t taken the time to tighten the straps. She kept her flashlight moving left and right and back again so she wouldn’t run headlong into a tree trunk or blind herself on an errant branch.
“We’re here!” a squirrel voice said.
Sam swung the flashlight and found Maple and Cedar running beside her. Maple wore a raincoat of shiny, bright-blue fabric with the oversized hood pulled up to shield her ears. Cedar wore yellow galoshes on all four of his paws.
“Where’s Birch?” Sam asked, ducking under the sticky branch of a pine.
Maple did not answer immediately, panting as she ran. “Birch volunteered to distract Ashander so you could escape. Perhaps you heard her howl.”