Chapter 1: Stirring Up Trouble

The bell jingled as Mabel and Pinecone burst into Mrs. Hollybottom’s Pie Shop & Bakery. The scent of warm cinnamon squares and huckleberry pie muted the storm’s chilly tendrils, which gusted in with the pair. Shaking drops from their long coats, they saw that Trap, as usual, had arrived early and was waiting for them at their table in the back corner - the one he’d fixed so it didn’t wobble. He waved at his friends, who wove through the tables of mid-morning customers.

“Did you see the sign?” Trap asked, pointing to the community bulletin board, which was layered with advertisements, want ads, and for sale notices. Posted on top of everything was a large poster that read:

Before they could talk about it, the owner, Mrs. Hollybottom herself, came to take their order. 

“My favorite trio!” she exclaimed with a friendly smile that crinkled her already crinkly eyes. “What’ll it be this morning, kids?”

“Peppermint tea, please, for all of us,” Mabel answered.

“With a little honey,” Pinecone added.

“And 3 cinnamon squares,” Trap finished. 

“So, the same as always?” Mrs. Hollybottom asked with a laugh.

“As always,” the three friends replied. 

“Mrs. Hollybottom,” Mabel asked, as the owner turned toward the kitchen, “What’s the largest huckleberry that’s ever won?”

“Be right back!” Mrs. Hollybottom called over her shoulder, “Can’t let my squares burn!”

“I can tell you that,” a deep voice answered, as shadow peeled from wall. Tucked into a nook was a man dressed entirely in black, from his pants to the knit hat hiding his shorn, green hair. Even the laces crisscrossing his tall boots and the sheaths holding his gear. Everything about this man merged into everything else. On first glimpse, he was without detail or form.

“Lamprey!” Pinecone and Trap breathed in whispered awe, at the same moment Mabel challenged, “Who are you?”

“Quiet!” Lamprey chastened, glancing around as if spies could be lurking in the corners of the pie shop. In one motion, he moved from the wall to their table, sitting backwards in the chair across from Mabel, giving her a cool, appraising look. Trap and Pinecone flinched, but Mabel didn’t show an ounce of fear in her face. 

“Who are you?” he shot back, almost as fast as he’d taken a seat.

She did not answer.

“Mabel,” He answered for her. “You’re Mable. Eleven years old. Tall for your age. No siblings. You live with your hairy-eared uncle by the maple tree. You’ve only got two friends. New to town. Your parents weren’t members of the High Holy Pranksters. They didn’t even… Well, now,” he stopped himself, smiling at Mable, “perhaps we’ll save those details for a different day. Huckleberries, that’s what you asked about, wasn’t it? Huge huckleberries?” 

The young Taeries could only nod, except Mable. She didn’t nod at all. She gave Lamprey a stony-faced stare worthy of a troll. 

“I’m sure your friends here will explain who I am later on,” Lamprey began. “To answer your question, fifteen seeds.”

“Fifteen!” Trap and Pinecone burst out at the same time. 

“Who found it? Where’d they get it?” Trap asked.

“A stranger. And no one knows,” Lamprey said. “She wandered into town on the last day of the harvest, presented our dear baker with the largest huck anyone had ever seen, and asked for her entire winnings all at once. With a pile of pastries riding on top of her backpack, she left town. The only clue we have is that when Mrs. Hollybottom asked where the berry came from, she pointed up.”

“From the sky?” Pinecone whisper-asked.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Mabel blurted, curiosity beating out fury. 

“No, it doesn’t.” Lamprey agreed. “So, I followed her,” his voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper, “for five days. Took the trail heading north, straight into the heart of the Dark Forest. Up and down, through more creeks than you can count, and over an equal number of fallen giants. It was no easy feat to stay hidden and untraceable. Took every one of my skills and a fair few of my tricks. Once we reached the river, I turned back. She hadn’t spoken a word or whistled a tune in all that time, awake or asleep. There was nothin’ I'd gain by continuing on.” 

Lamprey became silent, his eyes unfocused. He gave his head a little shake, waking himself from the memory. “I spent the next three years searching for the mysterious huckleberry patch in the sky. Between my other assignments, I explored upstream, clear to the falls, and downstream past Bramble Island. I scoured the forest a two-day’s journey inland on this side of the creek, and I searched around the hidden tunnels on the other side.” 

At mention of the tunnels, the kids exchanged surprised looks. How was Lamprey sitting with them now? No one who went into the hidden tunnels came back. Everyone knew that.

“Then the trolls started causing more trouble in the forest. I didn’t have the time to think about huckleberries any more,” Lamprey leveled an intense look at each of them.

“The safety of our clan comes first,” he said. “That patch has never been found, nor another berry so large. And I don’t expect it will. Not if I couldn’t.”

“So you gave up?” Mabel’s accusation shattered the magic.

“If Lamprey wasn’t able to find it, no one can,” Pinecone explained. “He’s-”

“Then why is he telling us all this?” Mabel interrupted.

“Because he’s an old man who likes to stir up trouble,” Mrs. Hollybottom answered, returning with a full serving tray.

“I think you mean a respected leader of this clan who has the benefit of years,” Lamprey corrected, a teasing glint in his eye.

“Huckleberry, Hackleberry,” said Mrs. Hollybottom, setting mugs of steaming tea and fresh-from-the-oven cinnamon squares on the table. Turning on the young Taeries she warned, “Now don’t get any ideas about finding that patch or a big berry. Just go fill your pails and collect your gold so you earn enough for this year’s mischief.” She glanced over their table before adding,  “I’ll be right back with that honey, Pinecone.”

Mable couldn’t let it go. As soon as Mrs. Hollybottom was out of ear shot, she whispered, “But what if we could?”

“Exactly,” Lamprey nodded, with a lift of his eyebrows. “Now you get my drift.”

“Do not let that man bait you into danger!” Mrs. Hollybottom warned, setting the honey pot in front of Pinecone. “He is nothing but trouble. I’ve known him since we were little, and he’s always been the same.”

“I’m wounded!” Lamprey teased, placing a scarred hand over his heart. “Am I not Chief Sneak of the High Holy Pranksters? Do I not have the best of intentions for our clan?”

“That is precisely my point! Get away from these kids with your wild stories,” she scolded. “You’ll fill their heads with ideas that will lead to trouble.”

“Only if they’re smart enough to listen," he said. 

With a wink, Lamprey stood. The bell on the door jingled, and four heads swiveled to watch the new customers take a seat by the window. When they turned back, Lamprey had vanished.

Trap, Mabel, and Pinecone stared at Mrs. Hollybottom as she straightened the chair Lamprey had been in. “Well, don’t look at me!” she said, before heading over to the newcomers, “I’m not responsible for that man!”

The trio watched her take the customers’ order and then disappear behind the swinging kitchen doors. They returned to their cinnamon squares, eating in silence for moment, each absorbed by their own thoughts. 

Then, as so often happened, they all spoke at the same time. 

“There has to be an answer,” insisted Trap.

“You should be more respectful,” cautioned Pinecone.

“We could find it,” declared Mable.

“What?” gawked Trap and Pinecone.

“Think about it,” Mabel said. “Why would he give us so many details? He was giving us clues.”

“Absolutely not!” Pinecone erupted.

“There has to be an answer,” Trap repeated. 

“Exactly!” Mabel leapt on Trap’s dislike for unanswered questions. “See Pinecone, Trap agrees.”

“That’s not what I said,” Trap started. “There’s a difference-”

“But if we found it, you’d have your answer,” Mabel cajoled. 

“No!” Pinecone stopped his friends’ conversation cold. “Absolutely not. Mable, you don’t understand. Lamprey is-”

“Shhhhhh,” she cut him off. eyes darting into the shop's corners. “Not here. Too many ears.”

“Now you’re paranoid like him,” Pinecone moaned. “Great.”

“Let’s go for a swim,” Mabel suggested, with a tilt of her head and a raised brow, and the two boys silently nodded in agreement. They knew what going for a swim meant.

Leaving their gold on the table, they gathered their coats. Seeing the trio was about to leave, Mrs. Hollybottom hurried over. 

“Don’t pay any attention to what you heard today,” she urged. “I mean it. He can weave a good story. Get you believing all kinds of things! But he, well, he lives in his own world, and only sometimes does it look like the rest of ours. Usually it’s a might more dangerous. We’re fortunate to have him, but don’t go believing what he says.”

“Yes, Mrs. Hollybottom,” the three friends chorused. Only two meant it. 

“Mrs. Hollybottom?” Mable asked in her sweetest, most innocent voice.

“Yes, Mable?” the baker replied, her eyes narrowing.

“What if, without trying or searching or anything like that, we happened to find a huckleberry even bigger than the stranger’s?”

“Mabel, I just told you-” Mrs Hollybottom started in.

“I know,” Mable assured her, raising both hands as if to ward off Mrs. Hollybottom's lecture. “I’m just asking what if. What if we did find one even bigger?”

"I don’t believe there is one in the entire forest. I don’t know where the stranger found that huck, but there hasn’t ever been one that large. There is no way you or anyone else is going to find one larger. If you did, I’d give all three of you tea and honey and a monthly pie along with the weekly pastries. But it’s not going to happen.”