Page 9 of Magical Mayhem

He looked up at me, eyes too wise for his small, mischievous face. “Then we stop pretending and start fighting. But not today. Today, we welcome them home.”

“It’s only six weeks,” I muttered.

Twobble nodded. “Precisely, and then we have a reprieve before the fall semester starts.”

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to look around. At the eager faces. At the laughter. At the hope.

He was right.

For now, this was what mattered.

The clamor started faintly, like the distant clang of pots tumbling in a kitchen. But then came the shouting, the snapping branches, and the unmistakable goblin-sized shriek.

I froze mid-stride.

“Well,” I muttered, laughter bubbling up despite myself, “that didn’t last long.”

“Trouble?” Twobble popped up beside me.

His ears perked like a rabbit’s, and his eyes glinted with the gleeful suspicion of someone hoping to be proven right about impending chaos.

“Yes. Definitely trouble.”

He scampered after me, trying to keep up with his short legs. “Oh, goody. I was getting bored with honey biscuits.”

Behind us, the freshly arrived summer students stirred like a flock of startled birds. Their laughter and chatter had barely settled from the welcome feast, and now a ruckus promised more entertainment.

I glanced over my shoulder at the small sea of flowing skirts, enchanted sandals, and bright shawls.

“Stay back, everyone!” I called, though I might as well have told them to sprout wings. Midlife witches rarely obeyed when curiosity struck. “I need to check this out first.”

The path narrowed as we left the courtyard, trees arching overhead with leaves whispering in the wind. The scent of mint and lavender from the gardens gave way to the sharper smell of pine and wet moss. The noise ahead grew louder, with a thumping, a squealing, a distinctly magical popping sound.

Twobble darted ahead, weaving between roots. “Sounds like someone’s brewing chaos.”

We rounded a bend, and I stopped so abruptly that half the students collided into each other behind me.

Because there, smack in the middle of the path, was a… well, I wasn’t entirely sure what it was.

It looked like a donkey, if donkeys came in shades of emerald green and wore flower garlands that seemed to sprout directly from their fur. Its hooves sparked when they hit the dirt, sending tiny bursts of light flying like fireflies. And on its back clung a student who clearly hadn’t signed up for bareback riding.

She was laughing, shrieking, and holding on for dear life as the creature bucked and twirled.

“How do my days go like this?” I whispered.

“Fantastic!” Twobble crowed, bouncing on his toes. “We’ve got ourselves a Wilds bramble mule.”

“Bramble what?” one of the students asked, wide-eyed.

“Bramble mule,” Twobble repeated, puffing with pride at being the expert. “Half beast, half garden, all trouble, from the Wilds.”

The mule brayed, sparks scattering, and the poor student slid sideways with a yelp. Gasps rose from the crowd.

I snapped into motion, taking off my cloak.

“Hold this,” I told Twobble as I strode forward, raising my palms. “Alright, let’s all calm down, everyone.”

The midlife witch dusted off her fanny and shrugged. “It looked cute, so I tried to get on it.”