Pink Squirrel leads you between two narrow trees, down an equally narrow path you somehow never noticed before. Perhaps she magicked it into existence. Or said some kind of squirrel password, allowing her access to something previously invisible. It will probably take you years to figure out how this place works, covered in odd little secrets the way it is.

The question, of course, is whether you want to stay here for any length of time at all. Yet alone years.

Before you know it, the path ends, and you emerge into a treeless clearing drowning in sunlight. You blink as your eyes adjust, watching as Pink Squirrel scampers on ahead of you. There is moss here, so much moss, more moss in one place than you’ve ever seen in your life. And it is the richest, darkest green you’ve ever seen in your life. A vibrant, fuzzy carpet. You reach down and touch it.

Soft as squirrel’s fur.

Perhaps softer.

You hear a soft chittering noise from Pink Squirrel, and look up to see her perched on some sort of small stone. You move closer, and you realize now what the stone is.

It’s a small grave stone.

You glance around.

There are many small grave stones poking out of the moss in this particular clearing.

You’re in a grave yard.

Your squirrely companion looks doleful. “This is where my father is buried.”

You stare at the grave stone. It is a long, oblong shaped stone, rounded, just a weirdly shaped little boulder. It’s unmarked, and more or less identical to every other.

“He was a great squirrel,” she continues. “And he would have taken care of you, shown you around this place, just the way I have.”

You wonder if that’s true. Yes, Pink Squirrel has told you more about this place than any other resident, and she was really quite invaluable when you first arrived, but it’s a little bit of a stretch for her to say she’s taken care of you or shown you around. She’s like the neighbor you talk to very occasionally. Not like your mom.

“It’s oddly quiet, today. Did you notice?”

Thinking back on it, you suppose this is quite true.

“You should be careful today.”

Squirrel is staring at the stone. She’s still perched on top of it, tail twitching languidly. It doesn’t seem like she’s going to say much else.

[“What do you mean? Why should I be careful?”]

[“Tell me a story about your father.”] 21.

[“Can you tell me more about this graveyard – if you, er, don’t mind?”]

[“So was taking me here the entirety of your ‘change in attitude’ plan?”]