Mira hurried along Acornbell Bramble Path with the smell of rain still far away, but not far enough. The path curved past blackberry tangles and two fat roots, and beyond them lay the berry patches she wanted to check before the clouds arrived. She kept one eye on the ground for fallen berries and one eye ahead, where the creek cut across the trail like a shiny blue ribbon.
There was the bridge: a narrow footbridge of pale wood, stretched over the water between a clump of reeds and a mossy bank. It was the quickest way across, and Mira quickened her steps. Rowan had already reached the near side, his round spectacles catching a spark of sunlight. Brindle stood beside him with her muddy paws planted wide, as if she were waiting for the bridge to challenge her.
Mira stepped closer, and the little bridge gave a nervous sway under her weight. Rowan shifted. Brindle leaned in to look. Then all three of them were near enough that the boards shivered again, a warning tremble running from one end to the other. Mira stopped with her nose twitching. If she tried to hurry them all across together, the bridge would wobble too much. She could cross first, or send someone first, or look for another way—but the creek and the clouds were both waiting.
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