Peanut had bounced off the delivery truck an hour ago, and the same truck was still parked at the edge of the field. He was a peanut, shell and all, with four green leaves sprouting from the top of his head. That truck was supposed to carry him to the peanut butter factory, where a machine would grind him smooth and pour him into a jar. He had jumped to save himself. Now he stood in open dirt with nowhere to hide. The field was flat and bare. No fence, no ditch, no tall grass. Just brown earth stretching toward the truck's boxy cargo body. Peanut's four leaves waved every time the wind moved. They made him easy to spot. The cab door creaked open. The driver climbed down and stood on the running board. He shaded his eyes and scanned the field, slow and careful. Peanut froze. His shell felt like a spotlight. One clear look and the man would march over, scoop him up, and toss him back in the cargo box. Peanut dropped flat against the dirt. It didn't help. His pale shell showed plain against the brown ground. He needed cover, and he needed it fast. Then he saw it. A single fallen oak leaf lay a few steps away, curled at the edges, colored deep orange and rust. It was bigger than his whole body. Peanut crawled toward it, keeping low, dragging himself through the dirt. The driver stepped off the running board. Boots hit the ground. He started walking into the field. Peanut reached the leaf. He flipped it over himself like a blanket and tucked his four green leaves underneath. He curled into a ball and held still. Through a gap in the curled edge, he watched the boots come closer. The driver stopped near the spot where Peanut had first landed. He turned in a slow circle. His gaze passed over the oak leaf and did not stop. To him it was just one dead leaf among the dirt clods. He grunted, kicked at the ground, and gave up. Boots crunched back toward the truck. The cab door slammed. The engine coughed and rumbled. Peanut felt the ground shake as the tires rolled away. He waited until the sound faded to nothing before he lifted the leaf. The field was empty. The truck was gone. Peanut had beaten the driver. But he stood alone in the middle of open farmland with no idea where he was. Somewhere past the field, the peanut butter factory still waited. And that same truck was rolling down the road toward it, sure to return once its route brought it back this way. Peanut picked up the oak leaf and held it close. If he wanted to stay clear for good, he had to get off this open ground before the truck came back.