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Oliver gasped.

“—and made me go hunting for them.” Alice looked away. “Gathering ferenberries is the only thing I’m any good for.”

“But I thought ferenberries were invisible!” Oliver said, eyes wide. And then he whispered, “And I thought they weren’t allowed under the Ferenwood Code of Permissible Food Things.”

“They’re not really invisible,” Alice said, scrunching up her face. “They’re just very good chameleons. They blend almost perfectly into any background, so they’re hard to find.” She shrugged. “But all I had to do was find a single one, and I could change all of them to a color I could see. So I’d pick dozens at a time.”

Oliver was visibly impressed.

“And I didn’t know they weren’t allowed under the Ferenwood Code of Permissible Food Things,” Alice added nervously.

Oliver was so stunned he had to stand. “Well,” he finally said. “Your mother sounds absolutely hideous.” And then, “Forgive me,” he said, clapping a hand over his mouth. “I spoke out of turn. It’s not my place to—”

“That’s alright,” Alice said with a shaky smile. “Mother will be better when Father comes home. He always made her nicer. But I think I’ve disappointed Mother since even before Father left. Perhaps in every way.

“And now,” she said quietly, “the only person who ever really loved me is trapped, hurting somewhere, lost in a world that wants to keep him forever, and I’d do anything to get him back. Anything at all.” Alice touched the silk of her skirts. “You know,” she said quietly, “Father used to tell me I was beautiful.”

Alice’s eyes had filled with tears, so she knew it was time to stop. She stood as elegantly as she could, excused herself, and told Oliver she needed some air.

He let her pass without a word.

When Alice stepped outside, her hardships were easily forgotten. Here, in the land of Left, was more to enchant the eye than possibly anywhere else. The sun had begun its descent, and the sky had turned a dusty, smoky blue; ambers and golds and violets melted along the horizon and kaleidoscoped through the branches, snowflaking spectacular shapes of light across the land. Everything was vivid green and richest brown and the air was so full of freshness; one deep inhale and her tears were zipped away, carefully stored for another day.

Alice closed her eyes and let the breeze wash over her.

She was stronger than Mother.

And if she wasn’t, she would be. She would be strong enough to fight for Father and not fall apart without him. He needed her to be smart, to stay alive, to keep fighting. Her love for Father made her brave. It made her better.

It made her ready.





MORE CHAPTERS STRAIGHT AHEAD





“Is there anything you’d like to taste?” Paramint asked them.

He’d popped his head into the egghouse to see how they were doing. She and Oliver had been sitting together on the floor, making a list of all the things they’d do with Father when they finally brought him home. It was Oliver’s idea, to make the list. It was the first thing he’d said to her when she came back inside. He said that Father would want to know what had happened while he was gone, and since an awful lot had happened while he was gone, they should probably make a list.

“He’ll want to see the new ponds and the fishing trees and, oh—we’ll have to show him the boats that fell in Penelope’s garden, we can’t forget that.” Oliver was already reaching for a sheaf of paper. “Or how about the penny bushes near the brook? They’re so big now! Don’t you think he’d like to see that? Alice?”

Alice was so touched she could hardly speak.

So there they sat, he and she, making plans for the day Father would come home, when suddenly Paramint was asking them whether there was anything they wanted to taste.

“Taste?” Alice said, sitting up straighter. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” Paramint said, still standing at the door. “We have a very generous tasting menu at our disposal. Perhaps not as grand as you’re accustomed,” he said, blushing, “but we do have a divine center-cut filet mignon that I’d humbly recommend for your tasting pleasure.” He bowed just a bit. “It was specially prepared for you by our resident chef, seasoned to perfection with rock salt and tea leaves, set on a bed of spiced couscous and served with a side of truffled risotto. Though of course if that is not to your liking we do have any number of sandwiches and roasts and hams to choose from—”

“Oh my,” she said, glancing at Oliver, “I’m afraid I don’t know what any of that is.”

Paramint had frozen solid with full words still stuck in his mouth. To his great credit, he thawed rather quickly, and said, “Is there something else I might offer you, your honorableness?”

Alice thought for a moment and said, “Do you have any tulips?”

“We . . .” Paramint looked a little confused, but mostly he looked terrified of disappointing her, which made Alice feel awful. “Well, your honorableness, we have, um, we do have a great many flowers, but none in bloom at this hour, I’m afraid.”

“Dear Paramint,” said Oliver, “please don’t concern yourself with the flowers. Alice is only teasing you,” he said, shooting her a swift look that said, Let me handle this. “Perhaps we’ll skip the main tasting this evening, and go straight for the desserts,” Oliver said. “It’s been a long journey, and something sweet sounds nice.”