CHAPTER 1

Once There Was a Girl…

“Hold still now. I just want to help you.”

I keep my voice calm yet firm. If she moves too quickly, she could do more damage. I need to be careful not to spook her.

“That’s a good girl,” I coo, taking a step closer. “Stay right where you are. You’re safe.”

Crack! My bare foot lands on a twig, which makes a loud snapping sound. At the noise, she hobbles farther into the brush, making it hard for me to see anything but her panicked eyes. If she moves any farther away, I won’t be able to reach her.

“It’s okay,” I tell her as some of our friends quietly gather around to watch me work.

I step deeper into the thicket, the chittering of the insects intensifying in the shady trees that surround me. The air is hot, and I’m sweating despite the fact that I’ve left my jacket and skirt back in the clearing. I snag a vine from above me and use it to tie back my pale-blond locks, which feel like they have a lot of leaves stuck in them. She’s watching me fix my hair with interest, but she stays put. I am going to have to do some convincing.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” I promise, my voice barely more than a whisper. Carefully, I pull something from my pocket I know she’ll like. I place the handful of cashews I swiped from last night’s dinner onto the ground between us. She eyes the nuts with interest, then quickly eats one. Nice!

The forest is unusually quiet. As she crunches on the nuts, I stay very still, listening to the sound of the brook babbling behind me.

“Good snack, right?” I’m trying hard to make her feel at ease. “I know I look young, but I have a lot of experience doing what I’m doing.”

She tilts her head at me slightly.

“It’s true! Just last week, Nox, the boa constrictor, came to see me in the clearing for a sore throat, and I mixed him a tonic that cleared it right up,” I tell her. “And when Peter lost his sense of smell after eating a bad batch of carrots, I made a broth that fixed everything.” I inch closer to the tangle of brambles where she’s perched. She doesn’t move. That’s a good sign! I keep talking. “And when Deirdre sprained her ankle after running from a bear in the Hollow Woods, I made her a splint, and now she’s walking just fine.”

I hold out my hand. She doesn’t recoil, but she doesn’t move in closer to me either. She’s still skeptical. Time to bring out the big guns. I strain my neck toward my friends below me. “Deirdre? Can you please back me up here?”

Deirdre takes a flying leap, landing on the tree branch next to me.

Did I mention she’s a flying squirrel? Or that the “she” I’m trying to help is a songbird?

Lily, my bearded dragon, pokes her head out of my shirt pocket to listen to Deirdre’s mix of clicks, clucks, and high-pitched squeaks that will hopefully get through to the little yellow bird with the injured wing. I can make out parts of what she’s saying, but not all.

I’m not fluent in squirrel yet.

Not like other humans! Really cares… Knows medicine! She can help… Trust her. We do! Friend!

I smile at that last word. I don’t have many friends. When you tell the kids in the schoolyard you can talk to animals, most call you a liar. Or a freak. Some even say you’re evil. Hey, I get it. Some of the greatest villains in Enchantasia have been known to turn into dragons or other flying fire-breathers. Being an FOA (Friend of Animals) is risky sometimes, but I can’t help who I am. Besides, I am really good at this “helping animals” thing.

Carefully, I lift one hand and place my palm next to the bright-yellow bird. I can see her wing is sagging. She might have snagged it taking off from a tree, or maybe she narrowly escaped a larger animal or bumped into a giant. My animal friends say it happens a lot. The songbird sniffs my fingers with her beak curiously.

“That’s it now. Climb right in,” I say in a soft voice. Deirdre chimes in too, squeaking her encouragement.

Finally, after a moment of hesitation, the bird steps into my steady palm! Below, I can hear the chattering cheer of my friends.

“What’s your name?” I ask the little bird as I carefully cradle her fragile body.

She chirps in a small singsong voice.

“Scarlet? How lovely to meet you, Scarlet.” I stand up and walk Scarlet over to my office.

It’s really just a quilt stolen from the maid’s quarters (Mother wanted it tossed anyway), my satchel of herbs pinched from the kitchen, and mending tools I’ve gathered from our sewing kits. I store everything in a hollow log near the clearing so no one questions what I’m up to when I go on my “daily walks” beyond our garden gates. I rinse my hands with the little jug of water I’ve brought with me, then open my satchel and pull out the small fabric slings I’ve been making when Mother thought I was practicing my needlepoint. Finding one that looks to be the right size, I get to work, setting the bird’s wing as best I can. Scarlet tweets excitedly when she’s been set. Then I mix basil, chamomile, and willow bark seeds together with the water.

“This should help with the pain,” I tell her. “Come see me again in a few days, and we’ll see how your wing is mending. We can even help you find a safe place to sleep in the meantime.”

I place the mixture in a tiny thimble and encourage Scarlet to drink. After a few sips, she tweets at me excitedly, and I know she’s saying thank you. She has a sibling that lives in an old oak three trees over so she’ll be safe there while she heals. That’s a relief.

Everyone is so excited about Scarlet’s new sling that they can’t keep quiet. Between the neighs, snorts, and chittering from other animals, I’m worried a big bad wolf—or worse, the main house—will wonder what’s going on.

“Okay, okay!” I say with a laugh, leaning back and soaking in the sunlight filtering through the trees. “Don’t give us away!” The noise decreases slightly, and I smile.

I live for moments like this. Being a Creature Caretaker is all I’ve wanted since I was five. Mother was sure I’d grow out of it, which is why she didn’t pay Father any mind when he brought me back a leather satchel filled with “animal doctor” supplies. But ever since, I’ve been rescuing spiders from drinking jugs, mending birds’ wings on my bedroom windowsill, rescuing wayward kittens from hungry foxes, and getting an occasional visit from a unicorn that has lost its sense of direction.

I won’t be “growing out of it” anytime soon. I don’t know how I’m able to talk to animals or know what they need, but I’m not about to give a gift like that up. I stare at the birds on the tree branch above my quilt and smile. In time, as I increase my studies, or…um…learn where I can get actual studies in this area (no one I know in the village is involved in Creature Care, which is why my services have been in such high demand), everyone in Enchantasia will be coming to me with their pets and woodland creatures. I can just feel it! Just like I can feel—

“Devin!”

I sit straight up. The birds stop chirping. Lily pokes her head out of my pocket again, and we stare at each other worriedly. No one should be looking for me out here. Not when I swore I was going to Lady Sasha’s afternoon tea at Mother Hubbard’s Tea Shoppe with some girls from class.

“Devin! Where are you?”

Drooping dragons! As the voice grows louder, I hear trumpets sounding. It’s as if a royal procession is about to roll right through the forest. I hear footsteps, then heavy breathing, as if someone’s running in our direction. I jump up, trying to put all my supplies away before someone sees them. Then I remember what I’m wearing. I look down at my undergarments and torn shirt and spin around in a desperate search for my skirt. The shirt and bloomers I’m wearing aren’t much different from the outfits the boys in the village wear, but it’s definitely not, as my mother would say, “princess appropriate.”

“Princess Devin!” says our footman, Jacques, sounding out of breath as he stumbles into the clearing. “There you are!”

I cringe. I hate when people call me that. “Devin is just fine, Jacques,” I say, trying to maintain an air of dignity as I spot my skirt hanging on a bush and run over and grab it. I quickly wrap it around my waist, pinning it on the side where I’ve cut it for easy on-and-off situations. With a ribbon tied and draped down the side, no one can tell I sliced it open other than Jacques, who has just seen my little trick. He blinks in confusion.

“Did you need something?” I ask him. “How, um, did you even find me out here?” I run a hand through my hair and accidentally pull out a spider.

“Miss, it’s urgent!” Jacques’s eyes widen as the trumpets in the distance sound again. “Your mother…father…the trumpets.…your invitation, miss, it’s coming, and…”

I inhale sharply and stumble backward. Lily flicks her tongue wildly. “No,” I whisper.

“Yes!” Jacques insists, grabbing my hand. “Your invitation is here!”