“Let’s go,” I squeaked as I looked down the abandoned path. Everything was in shades of gray. I still wasn’t used to it.

“I don’t think there are any fairies or pixies,” Jenks continued. “A garden this size could support four clans, easy. Who takes care of the plants?”

“Maybe that way,” I said, needing to talk even though he couldn’t understand me.

“You’ve got that right,” he said, continuing his one-sided conversation. “Lunkers. Thick-fingered clumsy oafs who rip out an ailing plant instead of giving it a dose of potash. Uh, present company excepted, of course,” he added.

“Jenks,” I chittered, “you’re a real piece of work.”

“You’re welcome.”

I didn’t trust Jenks’s belief that there might be no fairies or pixies, and I half expected them to descend upon us at any moment. Having seen the aftermath of a pixy/fairy skirmish, I wasn’t in any hurry to experience it. Especially not when I was the size of a squirrel.

Jenks craned his neck and studied the upper branches as he adjusted his hat. He had told me earlier that it was a flaming red, and that the conspicuous color was a pixy’s only defense when entering another clan’s garden. It was a promise of good intent and quick departure. His constant fussing with it since leaving Ivy’s purse had nearly driven me crazy. Being stuck behind a bench all afternoon had done nothing for my nerves, either. Jenks had spent most of the day sleeping, stirring back to wakefulness when the sun neared the unseen horizon.

A flash of excitement raced through me and was gone. Pushing the feeling away, I chittered for Jenks’s attention and started toward the smell of carpet. The time spent in Ivy’s purse, and then under the bench, had done Jenks a lot of good. Still, though, he was lagging behind. Worried the slight noise of his labored flight might alert someone, I came to a rolling halt, motioning Jenks to get on my back.

“Whatsa matter, Rache,” he said, tugging his hat back down, “got an itch?”

I gritted my teeth. Crouched on my haunches, I pointed to him, then my shoulders.

“No freaking way.” He glanced at the trees. “I won’t be carted about like a baby.”

I don’t have time for this, I thought. I pointed again, this time straight up. It was our agreed sign that he was to go home. Jenks’s eyes narrowed, and I bared my teeth. Surprised, he took a step back.

“Okay, okay,” he grumbled. “But if you tell Ivy, I’m going to pix you every night for a week. Got it?” His light weight hit my shoulders, and he gripped my fur. It was an odd sensation, and I didn’t like it. “Not too fast,” he muttered, clearly uncomfortable as well.

Apart from his death grip on my fur, I hardly noticed him. I went as fast as I dared. I didn’t like that there might be unfriendly eyes holding fairy steel watching us, and I immediately struck out off the path. The sooner we were inside, the better. My ears and nose worked nonstop. I could smell everything, and it wasn’t as cool as one might think.