Page 34 of Alder Woodacre and the Acorns of Affection (Amaranthine Interludes #3)

“Oh, man. That would be so awesome.” Kip addressed Jarrah. “Acorns are kind of a thing in my family for a bunch of reasons, not the least of which is … they’re tasty! But they’re also my clan’s crest. Hang on a sec. I stashed some of my best stuff in the attic.”

He was up and down without drawing anyone’s attention, returning with a long, flat wooden box.

Jarrah’s tail flashed excitedly. “Your stash?”

“One of them,” Kip agreed with a glance Jiro’s way.

His bondmate had taken a seat at the foot of his bed, elbows on knees, fingers laced. “Looks like a treasure box,” he remarked.

“Exactly! Once I figured out how to take speaking form, I started accumulating the kinds of treasures that I didn’t want to bury. My uncle gave me this box when he started teaching me the business of being a trickster.”

“Can I see?” asked Jarrah. “I really wanna see.”

“Yeah, of course. That’s why I brought it down. But first …!” Kip poked through the contents, coming up with the trinket he wanted. “Our crest is pretty simple. Same as the logo on the family bakery.” He showed Jarrah the copper acorn.

Jiro asked, “Do you have clan colors?”

“Sure. The Woodacres do dark green with copper worked in. Kind of flashy, but nobody’s ever surprised that our kitchens tend toward copper fixtures and utensils.

And once they started minting copper pennies, we were all over that.

We almost used them as flooring in the bakery, we collected so many. ”

“Bakery?” exclaimed Jarrah. “You have a bakery?”

“Totally do. Hey, should we see if anyone else wants to meet a bunch of cookie-baking squirrels?”

Jarrah scarpered to ask, treasure box forgotten.

Kip called Harrison to coordinate a meet-up.

Jiro simply waited, the picture of patience.

So Kip texted for transport, then a warning to his uncle about the oncoming stampede. Then he dropped to a seat beside his bondmate.

“All set?” Jiro checked.

“Almost.” With more focus than was absolutely necessary, Kip pinned his crest to the lapel of Jiro’s flannel shirt.

It looked good.

Joe was grateful to see Harrison—dandied up with a daffodil bowtie—at Tough Nut bakery ahead of them. As soon as the van pulled to a stop, the man went from waving to opening his arms wide. Their load of crossers scrambled to reach him.

Kip watched with a wistful smile on his face, then nudged Joe. “He slipped right into Japanese, like it was nothing.”

“It’s been every summer for a while now.” Joe had to think. “Six years …? Maybe seven?”

“They’re crazy about him.”

“Yes.”

“He’ll be fine.” Kip didn’t have to say without us .

“I think so, too.”

Once they got inside, Joe realized that Kip had also invited Ash and Tami. It was crowded and cheerfully noisy and full of good smells. But Jarrah clung to Joe’s hand, peering warily at the sudden abundance of redheads.

Then Kip was there, crouching to be eye-to-eye with the boy. “Quick trip upstairs. Just for a minute, I promise. Then you can raid the bakery case.”

“Just me?” asked Jarrah. “How come?”

“You and your Uncle Joe, yeah. My dad wants to say hey .”

“To me?”

“He asked especially,” Kip assured.

Joe squeezed the boy’s hand. “He’s nice.”

So they slipped into the back, then past barriers, straight into the urban enclave’s inner workings. Upstairs was a cozy room that had first reminded Joe of their hay mow, a tall, raftered space filled with secret nooks and plenty of fresh straw.

A red squirrel waited, paws clasped, tail curved into a question mark.

Kip dropped onto the bale next to his and announced, “This is Burl. He’s my dad. Dad, meet my good friend Jarrah. He’s visiting from Stately House in Japan.”

Jarrah’s grip on Joe tightened for a moment, but then he marched forward. “You’re a squirrel.”

“He always is, yeah. Burl is Kith.” And with a sidelong look at his father, Kip said, “He wants to know if he can touch.”

“Yes, please, Mister Burl.”

“Just Burl.” Cutting a sharper look at his dad, Kip snorted. “Unless you want to call him Grampa. He’s got the years, even if you went gray first.”

Jarrah went right in for a snuggle, though he peeked over his shoulder to make sure Joe was still there.

Burl chirred and petted the boy’s hair.

With a soft giggle, the boy nuzzled into plush fur. “I never had a grampa before. I like it.”

Holly emerged then, moving slow. She came right to Joe, stretched up to pat his cheek, then went to her bondmate’s side in order to be introduced.

Kip explained that his mom was staying in truest form for a while. “She’s going to have babies. I’m finally going to have younger siblings.”

“What about Bush and them?” asked Jarrah.

“Oh, they’re my brothers and my sister. But the thing is, I was the youngest of the litter. Bush, Push, and Lush are all older than me. So I’ve always been the baby of the family.” He slung an arm around his dad. “I’ve been pestering for a little brother or sister for decades.”

Holly chattered at him.

“Yeah, okay. Mom says I’ve been a pest for centuries.”

Jarrah checked, “You’re a lady, too?”

“Yes. Mom has a speaking form.”

“Can you be a squirrel?”

Kip said, “Yep. I can shift into truest form.”

“Can I see?”

“Well … sure. I like this better, since I like to talk, but for you …? Sure.”

Joe tried to think back. It’d been a long time since Kip had taken squirrel form. He’d done it more at first, since Joe had been more comfortable with animals. In the last few years, though? Nope.

So he wasn’t really prepared for the change.

Suddenly, Kip’s tail was absolutely everywhere. Wide-eyed and squeezed between rafters, an extra-large red squirrel slowly reached up to touch one of the skylights set into the ceiling … two stories above.

Holly flung her small hands wide and scolded him.

Uncle Denny burst in, took in the scene, and burst out laughing. “Go easy on him, Holly. Can you blame the boy?” And singling out Joe for a sly smile, he warmly added, “He has every reason to be greedy.”

Embarrassment warring with unexpected pride, Joe asked, “This is my fault?”

“The gain’s to be expected,” Denny assured. “And welcome, given how much he has to protect.”

Kip returned to speaking form, his face aflame.

“You didn’t know?” his uncle accused with a laugh.

“I knew I was stronger, but this …?” Looking at his hands, Kip said, “I am so glad I didn’t try that in closer quarters.”

Joe knew it had been one of Argent’s biggest concerns, but a change had been happening all along—little by little, tending by tending. And the consequence of a beacon’s blessing was abundantly clear.

Kip wasn’t a very little squirrel anymore.