Green
polishing and scrambled out the front door.
    "So, exactly how am I supposed to catch this pisky?" I asked Bronwyn. "Don't tell me I have to figure that out myself too."
    "No, but if I ever had to sleep in the woods overnight, I'd do what any sane leprechaun does--leave out shiny trinkets and clover ale and keep one eye open till morning. If a pisky happens upon you while you're sleeping, your only hope against mischief is a gift it finds acceptable. Piskies are tetchy about their territories, and you don't want to get on one's bad side. Which is why trapping one is ..." Bronwyn shook off the end of that sentence. "Cain will be there to guide you," she said with forced cheerfulness. "And if ever a leprechaun was born as wily as a pisky, Cain Green is the one."
    "He's a good shot anyway," I said, remembering his feat
    90
    with, the doughnut hole. "I'm not sure about that mustache, though. It makes him look kind of crazy."
    Bronwyn smiled. "Crazy when it suits him. Luck was with you when he won the shooting, Lil. If anyone can trap a pisky, it's our Cain."
    The sun was low in the cottage's back windows when a violent pounding startled me to my bare feet. I shoved them into Gigi's flats as I ran to open the door. In the closet, I'd found some jeans and a shirt that fit me pretty well. I'd tried on Gigi's sneakers, too, but the silver flats had already stretched to be the most comfortable shoes there.
    Cain was waiting on the doorstep, a knapsack slung over one shoulder and his bow and quiver on the other. "Well, then," he said, hiking up a belt weighed low with leather pouches. "Time to go, isn't it?"
    "I guess," I said uneasily. "Except I still don't know where we're going."
    "The woods, o' course! That's where piskies live, isn't it?"
    I remembered what Bronwyn had said about sleeping in the woods overnight. "We're not sleeping outside, are we? Because I camped out with my mom once, and the ground was all rocky, and a spider bit my eye, and it swelled up till I could barely see."
    "By all that glitters, girl!" he exclaimed, hiking up his belt again. "Are you a Green or a grumble?"
    91
    "Um ... huh?"
    "Grab your things! Let's get hunting!"
    I stared blankly before comprehending that I should have packed a bag. What did a person take on a pisky hunt?
    "Just a minute." Leaving Cain at the door, I rushed back into the cottage and grabbed the pillow off the bed. I'd learned at least that much from my previous camping experience.
    "I guess we ought to bring some food," I said, glancing around. Bronwyn had cleared the table when she left.
    "Got it." Cain patted his knapsack.
    I found it hard to believe his little bag held enough for two, but I didn't have a better idea. I stuffed some candles and matches into the pillow's case, then dropped the comb in, too, even though my hair was too short to need it. There just wasn't much to choose from, and I wanted to take something .
    Cain was halfway down the path, impatient to get going. I started after him, then skidded to a stop, struck by a last-minute inspiration: It never hurts to take a sweater .
    Pulling Gigi's old sweater off its hanger, I shrugged it on and tied its knitted belt. The heavy, cream-colored yarn felt like wearing one of her hugs. Slipping my hands into the deep front pockets, I found a surprise: an unopened roll of Pep-O-Mint Life Savers. "Look!" I sighed with a nostalgic smile.
    92
    Gigi had loved peppermint, stashing half-eaten rolls, tins, and bags all over her house. I didn't like the stuff myself, so whenever I'd visited, she'd have a supply of butter rum for me. I would never eat this last peppermint roll, but I'd keep it for its memories of her.
    Reassured, I slipped the candy back into my pocket and ran to catch up with Cain.
    93
    Chapter 8
    "It's getting too dark!" I whined. I hated being so wimpy, but we'd been hiking a couple of hours, and the sun had gone all the way down. Not only that, but Cain walked ridiculously fast for such a short guy. I could barely

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