A Game of Fox & Squirrels

by Jenn Reese

The compass took Sam left and right, matching the twists and turns of a creek. When she’d fallen earlier, it had barely been more than a puddle. Now it was a full-on stream, rushing past her ankles as she tromped along its shore.

  “Is it a candle flame?” asked Ashander’s voice in her ear.

  The ring continued to cast a light around Sam as if she were traveling in a warm blue spotlight. The Queen of Squirrels had worn this ring on her tail, but it was also Aunt Vicky’s ring. Aunt Vicky had crowned the queen in the first place.

  There are a lot of dangers in these woods, her aunt had said. She must have known that from experience.

  “Is it a porch light?” the fox guessed.

  Sam tried to speed up, yanking her boots from the greedy mud with each step. On the compass, the acorn symbol began to pulse faster. Did that mean she was getting closer? Was she almost there?

  Ashander whispered in her ear, “Is it the moon?”

  Sam gasped. The glow on her ring winked out.

  Ashander had spoken the true answer.

  The moon. Smiling and frowning described its crescent phases, the full moon was it howling, and it was “hidden” when it was new, not visible in the “shadowy” night sky. But it was always there, no matter what face it was showing. Even now, when it was trapped above the trees and the clouds, she could feel it.

  “The moon, Sam, the moon! What a clever girl. I could have guessed that right away, if I’d wanted,” Ashander said, from wherever he was. “But now I’m coming for you. I’ll be there before you can find anywhere to hide.”

  But Sam had no intention to hide.

  Now it was a race.

  Up the slippery bank of the creek she stumbled, her boots threatening to come off with each slurpy step. She tried not to think about Birch or Cedar or Maple and what had become of them. Instead, she pictured BriAnn and Lucas on either side of her, lifting her from the muck every time it tried to swallow her.

  “Saa-aaam,” Ashander sang. “Why don’t you stop and wait for me, Sam? I’ll give you a new test. An easy test. And then we’ll find the Golden Acorn together.”

  Lies, all lies! Or, at least, half-truths.

  Everything about that fox was changeable. His words, his promises, his moods. Sam had wanted to please him, to earn his favor, but how could she when what he wanted never stayed the same? Her aunt’s words came back to her: I was so tired of trying to win love from people who awarded it like a prize. Well, Sam was done with prizes, and she was done with games.

  “Sam!” voices called in the distance. “Saa-aaam!”

  Of course Ashander would bring friends. Maybe they were more foxes, or even wolves. Well, he could set the whole forest after her if he wanted, and it would make no difference. The only path was forward.

  The forest grew brighter. Sam pushed through a thicket and saw a shaft of clear moonlight shining down through the trees ahead of her, illuminating a clearing.

  The compass was sure: she’d found the Golden Acorn.

  FROM THE RULES FOR FOX & SQUIRRELS

  WINNING

  In most games, the person with the most points at the end is the winner. But this is a game of Fox & Squirrels, and it’s not just about winning.

  Fox & Squirrels is about survival.

  Survive the fox.

  Survive the winter.

  SURVIVE.

  Sometimes survival is all you can think about. That’s okay. Really.

  Survival is important.

  It’s the only way you get to play Fox & Squirrels again.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  A MASSIVE, CRACKED tree trunk dominated the center of the clearing like a jagged throne, its roots covered in a skirt of vines and pine cones. Glowing runes spiraled over its bark, written in a language Sam had never seen. The language of foxes or squirrels, or maybe the language of the forest itself.

  But Sam’s gaze was drawn upward, to the tallest splinter of wood jutting from the top of the trunk. Balanced atop this spike and bathed in moonlight sat the Golden Acorn.

  Sam gasped. Even two dozen feet away, it was the most beautiful sight she had ever seen. A part of her had wondered if the Golden Acorn was even real, if maybe it was just another lie Ashander had told her. But her heart had believed, and here it was. Sam had been brave enough to find it, after all.

  The Golden Acorn tugged at Sam, urged her forward, pulled at her in every way short of calling her name.

  “What’s this? Does our little Samantha see something she wants?”

  Ashander stood on the other side of the clearing, already on all fours. His purple coat had reformed into sleek leather armor. He growled, and the hairs on the back of Sam’s neck raised.

  “You can’t have the Golden Acorn,” Ashander said. “You don’t deserve the Golden Acorn.”

  “I deserve it more than you do,” Sam snarled back.

  The fox crouched, his muscles bunching. He was preparing to pounce.

  She’d seen the documentaries. She knew how high foxes could jump, and how precisely they could land, teeth gnashing.

  This was it, then.

  The last battle.

  Sam squared her shoulders, determined to try her hardest. Had Caitlin felt like this on that night, when she faced their father? The forest disappeared for a moment, and Sam was standing in the hallway outside Caitlin’s room while her mother pounded on the door. Sam’s toes dug into the carpet. Maybe, that night, Caitlin hadn’t wanted to say I’m sorry for the hundredth time. Maybe she’d said to herself instead, Let him snarl. Let him snap.

  “Sam!”

  The voice cut through the darkness, so loud that even Ashander turned to look.

  A few days ago, Aunt Vicky’s voice had reminded Sam of a fluttering moth, easy to miss. But this was Aunt Vicky, too. Piercing, strong. Was her aunt in the woods? Was she trying to rescue Sam?

  “She won’t save you,” Ashander said. He wore an eyepatch now and a big hoop earring. One of his fangs glinted silver, like a pirate. “She never asked for you or your sister to come here. She doesn’t want you. She doesn’t care about you.”

  I want you to know that I love you.

  Sam knew that the minute she stepped into the light of the clearing, the fox would be on her. She had to be ready. She had to be fast.

  “The squirrels abandoned you. Your aunt will leave you, too,” Ashander said, pacing along the edge of the light. “All you’ve done is disappoint her. You’ve taken her things, and you’ve broken them. It’s only a matter of time before she throws you out … or worse.”

  You can trust me.

  Sam dropped the compass and the flashlight. She tossed her backpack into the mud. She bolted into the light.

  The fox crouched.

  Sam ran as hard as she could, but she wasn’t Caitlin. She wasn’t fast enough. She kept running anyway.

  Ashander sprang, claws flashing.

  The Golden Acorn was too far away. Too far!

  Sam raised her arm to ward off Ashander’s teeth. He tackled her to the ground, and she rolled, trying to shake him off while he clawed and bit. His mouth opened wide—Sam could have counted his teeth—and he sank his fangs into her arm.

  Only … the moment before his canines ripped through Caitlin’s hoodie and into Sam’s flesh, the sweatshirt changed. Blue light rippled over the fabric, and in its wake, the simple cotton transformed into shining metal.

  It was Caitlin’s sweatshirt. She had given Sam her own suit of armor.

  Ashander bit into Sam’s metal sleeve and yowled in pain. His claws scrabbled at her chest, but the armor repelled them.

  Sam shoved the fox away and vaulted to her feet. Ashander was right behind her. She lunged for the Golden Acorn, hand grasping. Her fingers wrapped around something smooth and round and heavy. She squeezed.

  The Golden Acorn!

  Ashander tackled her again.

  Sam curled up to protect herself. The hoodie covered most of her, but her legs were exposed, and her feet, and her face. Ashander was on h
er now, teeth bared. Sam thrashed and tried to throw him off.

  “Sam, where are you?” Aunt Vicky called, but her voice was growing fainter instead of louder. She was going in the wrong direction.

  If you mess up, I will still love you.

  Ashander sank his fangs into Sam’s leg, and she yelped.

  If you lie to me, you can still trust me.

  “Aunt Vicky,” Sam cried, but the night swallowed up her voice in one easy gulp, as if she hadn’t said anything at all.

  Ashander laughed. “Pathetic.” He snarled and snapped at her again.

  Sam needed her voice. Her mouth gaped, but nothing came out. Don’t talk. Don’t tell. Don’t trust. Years of unspoken words were lodged in Sam’s throat.

  Ashander’s paws pressed her into the ground. He looked down at her and growled, “Don’t say a word.”

  Sam stared into the fox’s cold, charming, warm, angry eyes and heard other words.

  You are worthy of love, Sam. Just as you are.

  Sam yelled.

  She yelled as loud as she could.

  She used her lungs and her heart and every last thing she could find inside herself.

  “Help! Aunt Vicky! The fox is on me! The fox!”

  “Quiet!” Ashander growled. “No one cares what happens to you.”

  Sam imagined Aunt Vicky crashing through the forest, fighting off twisting vines with a sword and dodging lightning. She imagined Aunt Vicky emerging from the darkness and challenging Ashander to a duel. She imagined Aunt Vicky—

  And then, amid cracking branches, Aunt Vicky herself erupted from the darkness, swinging a sword of light.

  The real Aunt Vicky.

  Sam had called for her, and she’d come.

  Aunt Vicky spotted Sam and charged, knocking Ashander away as if he wasn’t even there. He hissed and shrank down to normal fox size. Maybe even smaller. The vicious spark in his eyes dimmed but did not go out. He slunk into the shadows with his wet, ratty tail between his legs.

  Suddenly there were fingers around Sam’s arms. There were warm hands pulling her up, off the ground. Away from the cold. Away from the fox.

  “Sam, say something,” Aunt Vicky said. “Oh, God, you’re soaked and freezing.” She held Sam against her with one arm and waved the flashlight with her other hand. “I found her! I found her!”

  “Ashander tried to stop me, but I found the Golden Acorn,” Sam tried to say. Her lips were thick and numb, and it came out all wrong. She could barely keep her hand closed tight. “I get to make a wish. I get to fix everything.”

  Aunt Vicky lifted Sam into her arms and wrapped her raincoat around them both. The rain clattered angrily at the fabric but couldn’t get through.

  “Pirate Princess and the mouse and almost Lady Louise,” Sam sobbed.

  “It’s okay. I understand. I really do,” Aunt Vicky said. “Oh, Sam.” Aunt Vicky’s arms were around her, holding Sam so tight she could barely move. Which was okay, actually. Sam didn’t want to move. Not even when she realized her aunt was crying, too.

  “The fox…,” Sam said.

  “The fox is gone. Do you hear me? It’s gone,” Aunt Vicky said. “I won’t let it hurt you. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

  Sam thought about Ashander’s eyepatch and hoop earring, just like the ones that were on Aunt Vicky’s stuffed animal pirates. Aunt Vicky did understand. And if Aunt Vicky understood, maybe she could actually do what she promised.

  Inside Sam’s chest, her heart gave a timid, hopeful rabbit thump.

  Hannah and Caitlin arrived, breathless, and took turns hugging Sam.

  “You jerk,” Caitlin said, and hugged Sam harder. “I gave you my hoodie, and this is what you do with it? It’s not water-resistant!”

  “You’re not supposed to get your cast wet,” Sam said, because she didn’t know how to say, It’s good to see you, too.

  Caitlin pushed wet hair away from her eyes and grinned. “Worth it.”

  Sam didn’t dare open her fingers to look at the Golden Acorn, but she could feel it there, pressed against her palm like the pit at the center of an avocado. Aunt Vicky helped her walk all the way back to the house. Hannah volunteered to carry her, but Sam refused. She wanted to walk. It seemed important. It seemed like something a hero would do. She’d gone into the woods, and now she was leaving them. There and back again.

  Ashander did not follow or attack.

  They were four now, and he was only one fox.

  FROM THE RULES FOR FOX & SQUIRRELS

  HOUSE RULE #1: PLAYERS CAN WORK TOGETHER

  When the Fox arrives, all players can contribute cards to soothe him, and at the end of the game, all points are totaled to see if everyone survives winter together.

  Oh, it’s much easier now? OF COURSE IT IS.

  That’s what friends do.

  That’s what family is.

  No one is ever alone.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  SAM PRESSED THE phone to her ear, nervous. Aunt Vicky had already talked to BriAnn’s parents, but Sam hadn’t yet talked to BriAnn. What if she was angry? What if she was sad? What if she didn’t believe any of the things Aunt Vicky had told her parents about why Sam and Caitlin moved to Oregon?

  “Hello?” a voice said.

  “BriAnn? It’s me, Sam.” She was rewarded with BriAnn’s squeal.

  “Saaaaaam! I missed you so much! You have to tell me everything about Oregon, okay? Everything! How soon can I visit? My mom said she’s always wanted to visit Portland, and she can bring me. I’ve already researched all the animals I want to draw, like a beaver and a Steller’s jay! And you can introduce me to all your new friends, too.”

  Sam grinned into the mouthpiece. “Well, there’s only the one friend now, Lucas, unless you count Aunt Vicky and Hannah. They’re old, but they’re nice.”

  Across the room, at the kitchen table, Hannah laughed. Sam liked the sound.

  “Sam, I totally get why you didn’t want to tell me you were moving,” BriAnn said in her serious voice. “There’s stuff I find hard to talk about, too.”

  “There is?” Sam asked. She thought BriAnn told her everything, and it hurt a little to know that she didn’t.

  Which … was kind of BriAnn’s point, Sam realized.

  “So we make a pact to tell each other stuff,” Sam said. The idea made her heart a little fluttery, but maybe in a good way.

  “Deal!” BriAnn said instantly. “I have to tell you about this guy my mom met at the wedding. I actually caught them kissing!”

  Sam pressed the phone to her ear, eager to hear every word. Clearly BriAnn was already better at sharing stuff, but Sam could catch up. She could do anything.

  By the time she and BriAnn hung up, they had plans to see each other, pending BriAnn’s mother’s schedule and miscellaneous stuff, like school. It was something, at least. And BriAnn promised to send more pictures in her letters, to tide Sam over.

  Sam still hadn’t gotten the letter that her parents had sent, but Mr. Sanchez said he’d have a new one for her soon. There were rules to be followed, and unlike Ashander, Mr. Sanchez didn’t change them.

  “Who’s up for a game?” Aunt Vicky asked.

  “Me!” Lucas said instantly. He put away his knitting and leaped over to the kitchen table. “But not Monopoly. My dad said it glamorizes the real estate market.”

  Aunt Vicky snorted.

  Caitlin removed an earbud. “Game time? I’m in. I need revenge.”

  “I’ll get the rhubarb pie and ice cream,” Hannah said. “If you monsters left any of it after lunch,” she added.

  Sam paused on her way to the table and looked out the window. It was easy to spot Birch playing high up in the branches. Nowadays, she and the Queen of Squirrels were inseparable, always adventuring together, always watching each other’s backs. Sam wouldn’t be surprised if the queen knighted Birch before too long. Sam only hoped they would invite her to the ceremony.

  She turned away from the window. “Can we try Fox an
d Squirrels?” She’d had the game for almost two weeks now, and she still hadn’t played for real.

  Aunt Vicky pumped her arm in some sort of victory maneuver. It was super dorky.

  Hannah rolled her eyes. “It’s only her favorite game of all time. Did she pay you to suggest it, Sam?”

  “Not this time,” Sam laughed.

  Aunt Vicky wiped the table while Sam got the game from her room. Lucas reached for the cards, oohing and aahing over the artwork. When he exclaimed over one of the fox cards, Sam shuddered. She couldn’t help it. The fox on the card looked so much like Ashander.

  “Do you know what house rules are?” Aunt Vicky asked. She sat down next to Sam and held out her hand for the cards. Lucas gave them to her.

  Sam shook her head. “House rules?”

  “Yep.” Aunt Vicky shuffled through the cards with practiced ease, pulling out all the foxes and putting them in their own separate pile, lickety-split. “Sometimes you figure out a way to change the game so that it’s more fun, and you play with those rules instead of the official ones.”

  Sam snaked her hand under the table and into the pocket of her shorts. The Golden Acorn was still there, smooth and cool. She kept it with her every day, and had developed the habit of touching it to prove to herself that it was still there.

  Her new therapist, Dr. Beranek, said keeping the Acorn was okay. Dr. Beranek said a lot of things, but mostly just listened while Sam did the talking.

  “Does this game have any house rules?” Lucas asked.

  Sam already knew the answer. She’d read the rules over and over, though she’d never known that it was Aunt Vicky’s handwriting at the end. And she hadn’t known enough about the game to understand what Aunt Vicky’s rules meant.

  “I’ve got a few to suggest,” Aunt Vicky said. “But we won’t use them unless everyone agrees. And before that can happen, I have to explain how to play.” She shuffled the deck—without the fox cards—and started to deal. “This first round will just be practice.”

  “But after that, all bets are off,” Hannah said, pulling out the chair next to Lucas. “I’m terrible at cards, but I love to win!”