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A Whisper of Gold

The morning sun spilled across the little clearing where Darby Duck stood, hat pulled low over his bright eyes, a folded map fluttering in his wing. Somewhere out past the tall trees, past the whispering ferns and the crooked wooden bridge, there was a place called Larkin Lake, and Darby had heard the stories his whole life.

"Are you sure this is the right way?" Carl the Cat asked, squinting at the map over Darby's shoulder. His backpack was neatly packed. Everything he owned was labeled. Everything.

"I'm sure," Darby said. "Mostly sure. Very almost sure."

From the top of a leaning tree, Melvin the Monkey dropped down with a whoop and landed right between them, upside down and grinning. "Then let's go before I change my mind," he laughed. "I already packed snacks. And a spare torch. And maybe a frog."

Carl blinked slowly. "Please tell me you did not pack a frog."

Melvin shrugged. "The frog packed itself."

Darby smiled and tucked the map into his overalls. He didn't know yet about the cave, or the bear, or the tiny snail waiting somewhere in the dark to change everything. He only knew one thing for certain. Whatever waited at Larkin Lake, the three of them were going to find it together.