Fable stared at the stone around the woman’s neck.
“You’re sure we haven’t met?” the woman said. “It’s just that you are so familiar.”
“I’m pretty sure,” said Fable.
“Hm. Never mind. I do believe your friends are here, little hazelnut.”
Fable looked up. “Huh?”
Tinn and Cole came sliding to a stop in front of Mrs. Stewart’s porch. “Fable!” said Tinn. “When did you get here?”
Fable glanced back at the old woman. “I should go. But it was very nice to meet you, Maggie. Thank you for telling me about your lady.”
The old woman smiled politely, and Fable hopped off the porch to join the boys.
“What’s going on?” she said when they had ushered her half a block up the road.
“The paper store just blew up!” Cole said as they rounded the corner. “And that’s not all. It’s been nuts. Mostly little stuff: chicken coops keep getting unlocked, windows have gotten broken all over town, and there’s been weird noises during the night. People are getting really mad.”
“They’re saying gremlins spooked the post office horses this morning,” said Tinn.
“Gremlins?” said Fable. “But gremlins don’t even live on this side of the Wild Wood. They’re butts, but they almost never go out of their way for a prank.”
“It looks like they made the trip,” said Tinn. “There were claw marks and everything.”
They turned the corner and the stationery store came into view at the end of the block, flames dancing from the windows and smoke pouring into the sky. The kids scurried out of the way as the fire brigade howled past in its shiny pumper, bells clanging. The firefighters ground to a stop in front of the burning store and raced around, fiddling with hoses and big brass knobs. Fable couldn’t help but think that now would be a really good time to have an invisible brain-hand that could put out fires.
“Old Jim thinks it was fire salamanders,” said Tinn. “And people are starting to listen to him.”
Fable sniffed the smoky air. Salamanders did occasionally get overexcited around this time of year. She had helped her mother control a few minor forest fires near the southern bend of the mire, where they liked to nest. But something wasn’t right.
“I don’t think it was salamanders,” she said. She sniffed more deeply, and her nose crinkled. “I know what salamander fire smells like, and it’s not this.”
“Well,” said Cole, lowering his voice, “whatever it is, everybody is talking about it, so be extra careful. Being from the Wild Wood will not make you friends in town today.”
The heat of the burning building rolled over them from the far end of the block. The roar and crackle of the fire mixed with urgent shouts. The firefighters had taken up a position right in front, and with a whoosh the pumper let out a stream of water that punched through the flames on the ground floor.
“What makes everybody so sure all this stuff was done by forest folk?” Fable said.
Tinn and Cole glanced at each other.
“I mean,” said Tinn. “This is the kind of stuff they do.”
“Who’s they?” Fable’s scowl deepened. “I’m forest folk,” she said. “And this is not what I do. This isn’t normal at all.”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” said Tinn.
“This wasn’t salamanders,” Fable said. “And I don’t know if I believe it was gremlins, either. Did anybody actually see gremlins spook the horses? Has anyone caught any actual creatures from my forest running amok?”
“Well, no,” said Cole.
“See? Then maybe it’s just . . . maybe it’s—”
Before Fable could think of a theory to replace the forest folk invasion, half a dozen townspeople hurried across the street in front of them. Old Jim was keeping a steady gait at the back of the pack, his rifle slung over one shoulder and an empty wire trap under his arm. Beside him, Evie was jogging to keep up.
“Evie!” called Tinn. “What’s happening now?”
“You didn’t hear?” she said. “They caught one!”
TWENTY
Mr. Zervos’ shop was not far from the burning stationery store. As the children approached, they could see fifteen or sixteen townspeople already crowding around the front window, leaning over one another’s shoulders and craning their necks to peer inside.
“Mr. Zervos found it,” Evie said with breathless excitement. “It was already inside when he opened the door. He said he heard the sound of glass breaking, and whoom! It flew right up in his face!”
“What did?” Fable asked.
“An itty-bitty person with blue skin and wings like a dragonfly.”
“It’s true!” said Mr. Zervos, emerging from the huddle around the window. His eyes were wide. “It was flying around my head, waving tiny arms and buzzing like a cicada. It’s still in there somewhere, smashing up furniture and knocking things off of shelves. I’ve heard stories, of course, but I’ve never seen anything like it up close.”
“That sounds like a pixie,” said Fable. She pushed her way between onlookers and shielded her eyes from the sun with her hand as she peered in through the glass. “But why would there be a pixie all the way out here?” Evie squeezed in beside her, and the boys joined them on either side. The front room was a mess, with beef jerky strewn across the counter, magazines torn to shreds, and tin cans rolling across the floor, but the creature itself was nowhere to be seen. A loud crash and a thump issued from somewhere in the back of the shop, and a white cloud of flour began to descend like gently settling snow.
“Smart girl. It does sound like a pixie,” said a voice behind them. Old Jim Warner shoved his way forward. “Outta the way, folks. Somebody’s got to roll up their shirtsleeves and deal with this
