Purple Pop's Arc

Chapter 12 of 16

By midweek, the squirrel's route had broken down. Notes that should have reached Rosalind's kitchen by breakfast were still missing at noon. Purple Pop walked the lane herself to find out why. She found the trail first. Small wrapped parcels and folded notes lay scattered across the path, their ribbons loose, their symbols smudged by dew. The trail led straight to a wide oak with lilac leaves and a heavy crop of acorns at its roots. The squirrel sat in the branches, cheeks full, pouch hanging empty. Purple Pop called. The squirrel blinked and kept chewing. Every delivery had been dumped for the nearest acorn. A stranger knelt nearby beside a small purple shed, sorting clippers, gloves, and a coil of soft cord. A gardener, by the look of the tools. Purple Pop explained the problem. The gardener listened, then pulled an empty acorn shell from a pocket and tied it to the squirrel's pouch with the cord. "Give her the prize first," she said. "She'll carry the rest to get more." Purple Pop tested it that afternoon. The squirrel ran the full route, pouch swinging, and dropped every note in the tea house box. The lane was clear again — but now each trip cost her a fresh acorn, and the gardener had named a price for steady supply.