The sweet, cloying smell of the Fireday market complemented the raspberry sunrise. I whisked around the corner and onto the polished, brick lane leading to the town square, past other groups of people heading the same way, holding empty shopping baskets and the hands of their children. Willow danced in circles above their heads, turquoise scarves spiraling around as the children giggled and pointed.
In the heart of the market, Willow landed in front of a cart selling cooked hazelnuts coated in honey and sugar. My mouth watered at the irresistible aroma.
“Hey! It’s little Badger!” The wrinkled vendor revealed a gappy smile at the sight of us. “And the nomad with the lovely voice! Can I interest you in something delicious, muh boys?”
“Silly question, Manta,” I teased.
Willow floated upside down. “Give us your biggest order!”
He waved his ring-crowded hand towards the market center. “I saw your Mama Robin setting up about two streets over. Tell her hello!”
I'd lived in the town of Pantmawr for my entire life, so I knew almost everyone. Manta Of-the-Jungle had sold his signature honey hazelnuts in the exact same place ever since Willow and I were little. My friend made a bit of a show digging in his pockets for money, but Manta slapped his hand and gave us the food for free.
We walked away, through the archway of green and yellow trees, savoring our delicious treat. When we were out of earshot, Willow said, “It won’t be easy pulling off this heist if your mom is here. You should have said something.”
I smacked him, lovingly, on the back of the head.
“Hey what gives!” The pitch in his voice spiked. “That's twice today I've been slapped! Not a good omen.”
“My mother is here every week,” I reminded him, with a swift roll of the eyes. “On that note, tell me what the deep hell we’re doing!”
Willow’s crooked teeth made for a wild grin. After shoveling more roasted hazelnuts in his mouth, he grabbed the edge of my sleeve and pulled me along. “Please, let's meet with the others before I unveil my genius. If Robin is on the town hall street, we won’t run into her. Trust me, this is a good idea. A harmless crime. Barely a crime.”
The others Willow spoke of loitered around a stall selling fresh- caught Jewel Fish, glittering blue and pink on a bed of ice. Some were still flopping.
With the focus and confident stance of a scholar with something to prove, the third member of our band scrutinized the sapphire eyes of the trout. Her name was Sharp Of-the-City, and she was hard to miss, being noticeably taller than most Pantmawr locals. Glossy black hair reached her elbows, and she held herself like someone much older and wiser, though her face was all youth and beauty. Her ensemble was just as imposing, a pristine set of silver armor, lined with plum-colored leather, and a blade of silver and bone holstered on either hip.
Sharp caught my eye and waved. From behind her, the fourth and final member of our group revealed themself and locked a pair of threatening orange eyes on Willow.
“Blondie! My nemesis!” they chirped, with a dangerous smile. Piranha Of-the-Jungle was an androgynous feline with dark brown skin and slit-pupil eyes that could hunt a moth in the dark. They pulled back an arrow with frightening speed and shot it straight above us. Willow caught it one-handed.
“Excellent form!” the archer praised, striding over to us on catlike limbs hidden inside loose black pants. A ruffled, vermillion shirt clashed with bronze hair braided in tight rows.
The Jungle was deep in the south, a much more treacherous place than the peaceful Valley. I had never been, but I knew it was full of people blurring the line between human and animal, as well as lines of gender. I’d never known if Piranha was male or female, so we addressed them like they were two people in one.
Piranha slinked an arm around my shoulder, orange eyes close to my face. The pupils widened into saucers, and they spoke with a nasal inflection. “I’m surprised Willow convinced you to come with us, freckle-face. I didn’t think you’d be down for petty crime.”
They tried to lasso me with their sunset scarves, but I poked them in the stomach and ducked away.
“Nice try!” I teased. “I’m not stealing anything unless feather-boy here tells me what it is. Something tells me you need my power.” I narrowed my eyes at Willow, arms crossed proudly.
He offered a smarmy grin, hair flopping over deep blue eyes, and said, “Let’s move a bit further out of the crowd first.”
We followed our frustrating friend as he floated to a vacated spot behind Rhino’s Variety Store. The attractive smell of the market was replaced with the scent of mold and rotting fruit, and a family of fattened rats perked up from their pile of old food to observe us.
Willow crossed his legs and hovered a few feet in the air. This ability was called Feather. He was born in a Northern Mountain tribe neighboring the inaccessible, towering plateau of the Wind Kingdom. In order to reach it, most northern people had some capacity for flight.
He beckoned the group close with hypnotic eyes. “You see, I heard a rumor about a traveling vendor from Pavv, a guy with blond dreadlocks who sells fruits of all sorts and does business with the people Of-the-Wilds.”
Willow exchanged a glance with each of us, as if he expected us to fill in the blanks.
“Why is that important?” Sharp twirled one of her thin, silver swords in a circle. “Half a dozen vendors are from the Wilds.”
“Because…” he trailed off to ensure we were hanging on to his every word, “this guy is selling Wild Fruit.”
My eyes widened, finally seeing the extent of his plan. Wild Fruit was a rarity at the Fireday market, as it could only be found in the deepest parts of the Savage Wilds. If normal Valley people like us consumed it, we’d be charged with Divine energy for several hours.
Pir’s wild, pointy grin contrasted with the sour frown on Sharp’s face as she stopped twirling her blades.
“No need for that look Twinkle Swords!” assured Willow, pushing his own mouth into a goofy smile. “Come on! It's the exploration season!”
“I know that.” She tapped her foot and checked her surroundings. “It's not technically legal Willow.”
“The other way around.” He crossed his hands to illustrate his point. “It’s not technically illegal. Age restrictions are only required to be enforced in the Wilds because of all the Divine mumbo jumbo.”
“I think she means the stealing,” I added, “and just because they don’t have to enforce it doesn’t mean they won’t.”
He snapped a finger. “I have a way around all that. Trust me. Here, take this.” From somewhere within his scarves, he unearthed a small purple bag jingling with coins. “Listen, we aren’t going to steal anything per se. We’ll pay for it secretly. They’ll only sell it to Wild people or people with at least four earrings, so this is the only way to get our hands on it. What do you say?”
For all his life, Willow was on the hunt for the next big experience, insisting the rest of us come along. Sometimes it got us into trouble, but other times his mischief would turn to magic. My mothers warned me not to make friends with mountain nomads if I wanted my life to be peaceful. Maybe they were right.
I took the money anyway.
With that, Willow walked us through the plan. As I suspected, it relied on the natural ability I inherited from my Mama Puma, a common power called ‘Lucent’ that made me invisible for five minutes. The first part involved Sharp, who would talk to the shopkeeper and inquire about the Wild Fruit. As she did this, I’d be watching for my chance.
Willow put two hands to the side of his head. “Sharp looks older, so he’ll likely show you where he keeps it. Don’t let him see your ears until he asks.”
She concealed them with her long black hair. Citizens of the Vast United Continent customarily added piercings to their ears at certain ages: five, ten, thirteen, eighteen, and then each year ending in zero. At sixteen, we still had three.
“He’ll ask you to move your hair at some point.” Piranha mimed the motion whilst making a kissy face. “That will be the signal for Willow and yours truly to cause a little distraction.”
I reached out my hand and wiggled my fingers. “Got it. Then I take the Fruit and leave the money. Give me a bit extra, for my tip.”
Willow held the bag out of my reach. “Here’s a tip. Sometimes a day of fun is payment enough. Can’t you just be cool for once in your life?”
I lunged for the money but fell on my face as he drifted further away.
“Knock it off,” Sharp scolded, pulling the collar of my red shirt. She tapped a foot on the plan written in the dirt. “Are we doing this or what?”
Piranha pointed a clawed finger back to the square. “Let’s go! Adventure awaits!”
When we returned to the market, Sharp and I separated from the others. The fruit stand in question was close to the center, displaying a saturated rainbow of produce, overflowing with both color and scent. It had everything, including fat greens grapes from the Padlock vineyards and the spiky white melons that could only be found in the Jungle.
“We should go back to the alley,” suggested Sharp, “unless you were planning on disappearing in the middle of this crowd.”
“Right. Good call.”
As we doubled back, she leaned in to talk softer, smelling of leather and sweat. “Are you sure you want to do this, little chameleon? You don’t have to do everything Willow wants.”
