I think if I had written the Guide to Magical Creatures, I would have included little sections with personal stories in them. You know, like how Bubbles got rescued by Aunt Emma. How Regent Maximus became brave enough to gallop rather than shiver. How sometimes HobGrackles want to learn ballet. Things like that.

This sort of seems like a missed opportunity to me, because I think there’s a lot more to everyone than just the facts of their species. I mean, think about how different the stampeding Unicorns were from Regent Maximus! If there were personal stories in the Guide, readers would see that there’s more to everyone than their average height, weight, temperament, and gestation period.

If I ever get to meet Jeffrey Higgleston, I’ll tell him my idea and see what he thinks.

Anyway, if I was putting personal stories in the Guide, I’d include the one about the baby Grim and the Fuzzles. I’d talk about how Fuzzles aren’t just pests, and are smarter than they look, and that baby Grims—just like baby anything elses—get scared when they’re lost. I’d talk about us rescuing him and all that, but my favorite part of the story is the end.

We got to take the Grim back to his family ourselves! The American Academy of Magical Beasts offered to send someone down to get him, especially seeing how busy the clinic was. And for a few hours, it seemed like that was going to be the way it ended. It was okay, but I was a little disappointed. I had really, really wanted to be the one to bring the Grim back to the colony. What if he got scared in the crate on the way back? Who would tell him it was okay?

“But I can’t leave the clinic,” Aunt Emma said. “What if someone needs me?”

In the end, it was Callie who saved the day. By accident.

“Remember that favor you promised me?” she asked. “I want to use it. To go here.”

She punched her finger right on a flyer for Star Lady: The Musical, which happened to be playing in Little Rover, North Carolina. Which happened to be just a few hours away from the Grim colony.

“That’s a coincidence,” Callie told me. “Don’t look at me like that, Pip.”

So we all piled into the car—Tomas included—and spent a whole day driving up there. Callie picked the music (Broadway’s Greatest Hits of Fall 1997), and Tomas picked the food (it turns out Grims love french fries, but they give Tomas hives), and Aunt Emma quizzed me on animal facts.

It was the best day ever.

Once we got to the mountains of North Carolina, Aunt Emma pulled out the directions to the colony. We left the car behind and hiked up into the forest. Aunt Emma had her camera at the ready to document the reunion for the Academy.

“The directions aren’t very specific,” she apologized as we circled the forest. The trees around us were close together, and there were rocks everywhere thrown between them. Boulders, really. But not a Grim in sight.

The baby Grim made a little whimpering noise, and I rubbed his ears comfortingly. “I’m sure they’re here somewhere.”

“Definitely,” Aunt Emma said, not realizing I was talking to the Grim. “Still—”

“Pip,” squeaked Tomas. “Hold me!”

I grabbed him as he floated into the air. Aunt Emma lifted her eyebrows. Callie glared.

“Didn’t you take your allergy medicine?” I asked.

“Of course I did!”

“Is it wearing off?” Aunt Emma asked. “I can’t imagine it’d wear off so suddenly. I mean, if there were more Grims around maybe I’d understand—”

“Mom!” the baby Grim yelped. “Dad!”

He started running toward the rocks, still shouting. “Aunt! Uncle! Other aunt! Other uncle! Brother! Brother! Brother! Brother! Brother! Brother …”

Grims have large families.

He kept shouting to all of them as the rocks suddenly came alive. Well, not literally. But the other Grims had been lying on and around them, and when they saw the baby Grim galumphing toward them, they leaped up and galloped to meet him. We hadn’t even noticed them. They blended in perfectly!

(I wrote a note on my hand about the excellent rock camouflage, since I clearly needed to add it to the Guide.)

They were all shouting and barking back and forth so loudly that I couldn’t make out individual words. But I could make out my little baby Grim snuggling up against his parents, with his siblings all rolling around him gladly.

“Touching,” Callie said. She looked at her watch. “Now can we go see the show?”

Lowering her camera, Aunt Emma wiped a tear away from her eye. “Of course.”

Tomas muttered down at me, “I think this was a pretty good show already.”

I grinned. It certainly was.