After backtracking to tell Scout they were leaving, Quinn and Wiley set off through the woods toward Abigail’s. It was time to let her know how their part of the plan was unfolding. The night air had grown chilly, and dry leaves rustled around them as they hurried on.

WILEY: “Do you think the men will come back?”

QUINN: “Probably. I doubt they’re ready to give up.”

WILEY: “Then it’s a good thing the skunks are staying.”

QUINN: “True, but the skunks won’t be able to keep them away forever.”

WILEY: “Wadya mean? You saw how fast those men left when they saw one hundred skunks lined up, tails raised!”

QUINN: “Yes, but now they know what they’re up against. Next time, they may have a plan.”

WILEY: “Such as?”

QUINN: “How to get what they want without getting sprayed.”

WILEY: “Hmm. You mean a way to stay inside their trucks?”

QUINN: “That—or a way to do their work without coming here at all.”

WILEY: “But how?”

QUINN: “That’s what worries me. I don’t know.”

WILEY: “Maybe Abigail will.”

QUINN: “Yes. I’m hoping she may know what we’re up against.”

As the wind picked up, Quinn shivered. He glanced at Wiley, who seemed unbothered by the unexpected chilly weather.

QUINN: “Wiley… your fur’s looking awfully thick.”

Wiley twisted to look at his side.

WILEY: “Thick?”

QUINN: “Especially around your neck.”

A little farther along, Quinn spotted a shallow puddle covered with a thin, smooth layer of ice. He paused beside it and motioned for Wiley to come closer.

QUINN: “Here. Take a look.”

Wiley leaned over the frozen puddle. He shifted until he could make out his reflection, then turned his head one way and the other.

WILEY: “That thick already? It’s only November!”

QUINN: “Maybe your coat knows something we don’t.”

Wiley knew his coat would thicken for winter, but he hadn’t expected so much fur this soon. Especially since the groundhogs had been remarking on how much warmer the autumns had become. He craned his neck for a better look.

WILEY: “I look twice my size.”

QUINN: “Should we tell Abigail to expect two coyotes?”

Wiley glanced up.

WILEY: “Only if I get double portions.”

Wiley took one last look at his reflection before following Quinn, but his smile faded.

QUINN: “What’s wrong?”

WILEY: “A thick winter coat isn’t all good news. Trappers would love to get mine. People make clothes out of our fur to keep themselves warm.”

He looked down at his fur.

WILEY: “And they’d have to kill me to get it.”

Quinn’s smile faded.

QUINN: “I hadn’t thought of that.”

WILEY: “We need to worry about Scout’s uncle, too.”

QUINN: “You mean Willie Weasel? You’re right. His winter coat doesn’t just get thicker. It turns from brown to white.”

Quinn hesitated.

QUINN: “Willie’s pretty old now and probably doesn’t roam the woods the way he used to—but…”

Wiley interrupted.

WILEY: “But think about the rest of his family. Their coats turn white, too. That white winter fur is called ermine, and furriers pay a lot for it.”

QUINN: “That’s exactly what I was about to say.”

Wiley paused.

WILEY: “So Scout’s got a whole family to worry about.”

QUINN: “At least the white should help them hide in the snow.”

WILEY: “Once there’s snow.”

They looked across the bare ground, where brown leaves lay scattered beneath the trees.

A dry branch snapped nearby. Both stopped to listen, standing perfectly still.

Something rustled beneath a tangle of fallen branches. Then a narrow face appeared.

WILEY: “Come on out. We can see you.”

A weasel emerged, his coat already turning white, with only a few patches of brown remaining.

WEASEL: “You spotted me that easily? If you can see me, so can a trapper. And by the way, who are you?”

WILEY: “I’m Wiley, and this is Quinn. We’re friends of Scout Skunk. Do you happen to know his Uncle Willie?”

WEASEL: “Know him? He’s my dad.”

WILEY: “We were just talking about your family. How’s your dad doing?”

WEASEL: “Getting old, but he still keeps an eye on us.”

WILEY: “And what’s your name?”

WEASEL: “Will. Named after Dad.”

WILEY: “Good to meet you, Will.”

Will glanced at a white patch along his side.

WILL: “I wish we’d get some snow. Until then, I’m keeping under cover.”

QUINN: “Have you seen anyone in the woods?”

WILL: “I saw two men this morning. Hid as soon as I spotted them.”

QUINN: “Where did you see them?”

WILL: “Near the old trail.”

QUINN: “Were they carrying anything? Guns?”

WILL: “I couldn’t tell you. All I noticed were those big boots coming toward me.”

WILEY: “That would be enough for me, too.”

Quinn looked toward the trail, then back at Will.

QUINN: “We’re on our way to Abigail’s. Come with us. She’ll want to hear what you saw.”

WILL: “You know Abigail? Dad’s told us about her.”

Will hesitated, looking across the open stretch of ground.

WILL: “Can we stay close to the fallen branches? I don’t like being out in the open.”

WILEY: “Fine by me. I’d rather keep my coat, too.”

They continued toward Abigail’s, Will slipping behind tree trunks and beneath fallen branches along the way.

***

When they reached Abigail’s apartment building, Will stopped and looked up.

WILL: “Abigail lives here? Dad never mentioned such a big place.”

QUINN: “She lives in an apartment now. Other people live here, too.”

WILL: “Then how do we find her?”

QUINN: “We let her know we’re here.”

Quinn pressed the button for Abigail’s apartment. A moment later, her voice came through the speaker.

ABIGAIL: “Hello?”

QUINN: “Abigail, it’s Quinn. Wiley’s with me, and another friend.

ABIGAIL: “I’ll be right down!”

Will stayed close to Wiley as they waited.

A few minutes later, Abigail appeared in the lobby and opened the entrance door.

ABIGAIL: “It’s so good to see you!”

She took a second look at Wiley.

ABIGAIL: “Wiley! You’ve gotten so big!”

WILEY: “It’s my winter coat.”

QUINN: “I offered to warn you to expect two coyotes.”

Abigail laughed, then noticed the weasel beside him.

ABIGAIL: “Well, indeed you’ve brought someone extra. Who’s this?”

QUINN: “This is Will. Willie Weasel’s son. We met him on our way here.”

ABIGAIL: “Willie’s son! Oh, Will, I haven’t seen your dad in so long. Is he all right?”

WILL: “He’s all right. He’s home with Mom.”

Abigail’s face lit up.

ABIGAIL: “So he found a mate and has a family! How wonderful. I’ve missed him.”

WILL: “He’s told us about you.”

Abigail’s smile softened.

ABIGAIL: “Your dad was so badly burned in that explosion. How’s his face? Did his fur grow back?”

WILL: “Much better. It took a few years, but each new coat filled in a little more. You can hardly see the scars now.”

ABIGAIL: “He used to worry that his fur would never grow back.”

WILL: “He told us. But it did—and then he met Mom.”

Abigail smiled.

ABIGAIL: “And now here you are.”

WILL: “Dad says he wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t taken care of him.”

For a moment, Abigail said nothing.

ABIGAIL: “Please tell him I’ve missed him, Will. I’d love to see him again, and meet your mother.”

She ushered them inside.

ABIGAIL: “Just follow me. Linda’s upstairs. We’ve been gathering neighbors to talk about the continued pollution from Hell’s Bells. The church has given us space to meet. There’s quite a bit to tell you.”

QUINN: “We have plenty to tell you, too.”

They followed her to the elevator. Will hesitated when the doors slid open.

QUINN: “Come on, Will. Stay with us.”

LINDA: “Six weeks! It’s good to finally meet you in person—or should I say, in fur?”

QUINN: “And quills.”

Abigail introduced Will while Quinn and Wiley settled near the table and Will found a spot beside Wiley.

QUINN: “First, the good news. The men left. Scout and the other skunks are staying to keep watch.”

LINDA: “Did you have to make a big stink?”

WILEY: “We didn’t have to. One hundred skunks lined up with their tails raised did the talking.”

Linda laughed.

LINDA: “I wish I’d seen that.”

WILEY: “You should have seen those men hurry back to their trucks.”

QUINN: “But we can’t assume they’ve given up.”

ABIGAIL: “What makes you say that?”

QUINN: “Now that they know about the skunks, they may come prepared next time. And Will saw two men near the old trail this morning.”

He turned toward Will.

QUINN: “Will, tell Abigail what you saw.”

WILL: “I don’t know what they were doing there, just that when I saw those big boots coming toward me, I hid.”

LINDA: “Could they have been two of the men the skunks chased off?”

QUINN: “We don’t know. But here’s what worries me. What if they find a way to keep working without coming back into the woods?”

Abigail glanced at Linda.

ABIGAIL: “We’ve been asking some questions ourselves.”

She gathered a few loose pages and pulled a newspaper clipping from beneath them.

ABIGAIL: “Until now our meetings have been focused on how to close down Hell’s Bells. That is until someone brought us this.

She pulled a newspaper clipping from beneath her notes and slid it toward Quinn.

ABIGAIL: “I’m wondering whether the cracker plant is the only thing we need to worry about.”

QUINN: “What is it?”

ABIGAIL: “An article about another kind of development that could bring those men back.”

Wiley leaned closer.

WILEY: “What kind of development?”

ABIGAIL: “One that would need land, water, and a great deal of electricity.”

QUINN: “Another factory?”

ABIGAIL: “Something we hadn’t considered.”

Quinn studied the headline. Abigail had underlined two letters.

QUINN: “AI?”

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