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.

Sir Goosifer sat at his worktable, the single hook moving through loops of yarn. The blanket was half done. It would sell well enough. Someone would buy it and carry it home and never wonder whose paws had made it. The thought settled in his chest like a stone. A knock came at the entrance to the cave. Sir Goosifer looked up, the yarn slipping from his paws. No one knocked. No one came here except the rabbit, and that had been months ago. He set the hook down and walked to the entrance, where stone arched above packed earth and vines hung thick across the opening. A badger stood there, breathing hard, clutching one of his hats in both paws. "Who made this?" the badger demanded. Sir Goosifer opened his mouth, but no words came. The badger stepped closer. "There's no name on it. I asked at the marketplace and no one knew. I had to follow someone who saw you leave yesterday." The hat was yellow with a dark green pom pom on top, bright as sunlight against the badger's brown fur. The badger turned it over, searching the stitches. "My daughter wears this every day. She wants another one exactly like it, but I can't find you anywhere. Why isn't your name on it?" Sir Goosifer stared at the hat, then at the badger. Someone had tracked him down. Someone wanted to know his name. He thought of all the work he'd sold with no mark, no signature, nothing to say it was his. "I'm Sir Goosifer," he said, and the words felt strange in his mouth. The badger nodded once, sharp and satisfied. "Good. I'll be back next week for the second hat. Put your name on it this time." He turned and walked into the trees, still carrying the yellow hat. Sir Goosifer stood at the cave entrance long after the badger disappeared, his paws trembling. He went back to his worktable and picked up the half-finished blanket. The hook felt different now, heavier somehow. He would need thread for labels, something that wouldn't wash out. He would need to mark every piece before it left his paws. The work would take longer, but for the first time a customer hadn't just bought something — they'd come looking for him. They'd asked his name and remembered it. He pulled the yarn tight and began a new row, already planning where the label would go.