Sir Goosifer's Arc

Chapter 1 of 2

Sir Goosifer stood at the edge of the junction marketplace, his paws clutching the basket that held three hats, two blankets, and a small crocheted mouse. The space was full now — Bramble had made sure of that. Creatures moved between stalls, talking and laughing and bumping into one another. The noise pressed against him like a wave. He forced himself forward, past the clusters of creatures, until he found the wooden stall with the painted sign. His goods were already there, hanging from hooks and arranged on shelves. A squirrel lifted one of his blankets and showed it to her companion. They admired the stitching. They discussed the price. Then they bought it and walked away. Not one of them looked for a name or asked who had made it. Sir Goosifer stood three steps back and watched his work sell to creatures who would never know it was his. A group of foxes lounged near the center of the marketplace, their bright clothes and round glasses catching the light. They passed something between them and laughed in voices that carried across the entire junction. More creatures gathered around them, drawn by the noise and color. The stall with his crochet goods sat just beyond them, close enough that anyone walking past had to wade through the crowd first. He watched a badger approach, pause at the edge of the gathering, then turn away without reaching the stall. Sir Goosifer realized then that his work could hang in the busiest marketplace in the forest and still stay hidden. He turned and walked home, the empty basket light in his paws. The marketplace faded behind him, but the truth stayed sharp. Being present was not enough. The junction had shown him what he already feared: he could fill every stall in Peppergrove with his work and still be no one. The creatures would buy his blankets and wear his hats and never once speak his name. Something had to change, but he did not yet know what.