Wren and Oak (The Rowan Harbor Cycle Book 9) by Sam Burns

Author:Sam Burns [Burns, Sam]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-12-25T16:00:00+00:00

7

Fair Play

The squirrel stood on the coffee table in Isla’s sitting room. The drapes were drawn tightly shut and the overhead lights were on, so that Cassidy could join them despite it being midday. Fletcher wasn’t particularly surprised to learn that Isla and Cassidy were living together. They always seemed to have it together better than anyone else in town.

It had been a little more than an hour since the squirrel showed up at Fletcher’s apartment, and everyone from their usual group was gathering on the sofas around the table, watching the tiny, furry creature. It—he, Fletcher supposed, since the squirrel was definitely sentient—looked . . . impatient. The attitude was so un-squirrel-like that Fletcher half expected him to start tapping his foot and checking an imaginary watch.

When everyone finished settling in and went quiet, he turned to Fletcher. “Now?”

“Um, yeah. Now is good.”

The squirrel looked at everyone, eyes slowing on Jesse briefly, and then back to Fletcher. “The unicorn wants to speak to you. Something is wrong. They’re not supposed to be here, and they’re worried.”

“Fuck me,” Cassidy whispered, staring at the squirrel wide-eyed. “I thought you said it was, like, feelings and stuff, not like you make ‘em talk out loud. I figured it was some Mr. Spock mind melding or something.”

“It is,” Conner told her. “He can’t make squirrels talk out loud. Which is half the problem with this specific scenario.”

The squirrel, thoroughly unimpressed, looked over at Conner. “The unicorn is a bigger problem than I am.”

“Is their name Dude?” Sean asked. Everyone glanced at him, and he shrugged, blushing. “I didn’t name them that. Don’t blame me for it.”

When everyone’s gaze moved to Jesse, he didn’t look the least bit sorry. “You guys would have blown the chance to name them something cool too. They should be glad they’re not Sparklepants Moonbeam or something right now.”

Fletcher rolled his eyes at his friend joking when something was clearly wrong with the forest, and leaned in close to the squirrel. “Are you from this forest, or the one where the unicorn lives? Could you always talk like this?”

For a moment, the squirrel looked stumped. Then he looked at Sean long and hard. “Here. I live here.” He pointed at Sean. “He gives my family food. This talking is . . . wrong. Different. But the unicorn spoke to me, and I had to answer.”

“And Dude told you to come get us?” Jesse asked, as calm and collected as if that were an everyday occurrence. Talking squirrels and unicorns sending for him, all in a day’s work.

Again, the squirrel paused. Fletcher could only imagine what a tax it was on the poor little guy’s brain, which was made for a specific kind of information. Squirrels were made for hoarding nuts and making more squirrels. They weren’t made to carry messages for unicorns to people they didn’t know. The language alone had to be exhausting.

“Yes,” he finally said. “The unicorn Dude wishes to speak to you. I promised I would tell the forest.

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