I lift the telescope and run it over the plain. Suddenly Crowky’s face appears—wild, excited, straw hair flying behind him. Clutched in front of him is the Box. My hands tighten on the telescope. “Mitch,” I say, “maybe we should hide while you do your thinking.”

She slams her tail on the floorboards, making the room shake. “I have never hidden from anyone in my life, and I’m not about to start doing it because a scarecrow wants to open a box in front of you!”

“I get that,” I say, “but it’s not your fear that could come leaping out of the Box, is it? And if my fear does come out, then I won’t get to the Alisha in time and Rose will be GONE!”

Mitch reaches forward, grabs me by my onesie, and pulls me close. “Calm down, Arthur Trout, because I need to go foraging.”

“Foraging?” I don’t believe this.

“Yes, foraging, I have to find some ingredients so I can make a fog spell that will hide the swan-thingy from my magnificently armed warship, making sure you don’t get blown to pieces by a cannon—GOT IT?” I nod. “Good. And that means I need you, Arthur Trout, Master of Roar, not to hide, but to buy me a bit of time. Create a distraction, fight those scarecrows, basically do anything that will let me find three sea urchins, a strand of toadflax, a pinch of starfish spit, and seven grains of rice. Do you think you can do that?”

I swallow. “Yes.”

“Good!” She lets go of my onesie and I stumble backward. “I’ll let you know when I’m ready.”

“How?”

She runs her fingers through the vials around her neck, then pulls one out. “With a rainbow,” she says. Then she rolls across the floor, flops through the open trapdoor, and lands in the sea with a splash.

I turn to Win. “You heard her. We’ve got to create a distraction or fight them off . . . any ideas?”

“We need weapons. What have we got to work with?”

We go to the window. Barracuda Bay looks even more desolate this morning than it did last night: the Bucket of Blood sign creaks in the wind and flurries of snow blow down the street. In the distance I can see Crowky and his army. Soon they will reach the path that leads to the village.

Win’s eyes light up. “I know what we’ve got tons of—snow! We can have a massive snowball fight!”

“Isn’t snow a bit soft?” I say, thinking of the scarecrows’ iron strength and Crowky’s energy-sapping hands.

Win nods. “Very, but I literally have no other ideas at all.”

Neither do I. “A snowball fight it is,” I say, hoping Mitch does her foraging really, really quickly.

“YESSS!” shouts Win, and we turn and run down the rickety wooden stairs and through the bar.