“Helllllppppp!” shouted Nod.

In an instant, Ronin leaped onto the grackle. Dedicated and well respected, Ronin wouldn’t think twice about putting his own life on the line for someone he cared about. He fought the Boggan rider, while Nod dangled below by one leg.

“Why aren’t you with your group?” Ronin asked Nod, while still fighting the Boggan.

“I fly faster alone,” Nod replied. Carefree and sometimes reckless, Nod was all about having a good time.

“How do you not get this? You’re not the only one on this team, you know,” said Ronin.

“So? Yell at one of them for a change!” suggested Nod.

Ronin lifted up his sword and blocked as the Boggan took a swipe at him. Then Ronin kicked the Boggan off the grackle, saving Nod . . . again.

“You know how important today is?” Ronin asked Nod. “Now get a bird and get back to Moonhaven or you’re done. I’m not coming after you again.”

Nod folded his arms, still dangling from the grackle’s talons. “You know what? I’ll save you the trouble. I quit.”

Ronin took off, leaving Nod to find his own way down.

Meanwhile, seventeen-year-old Mary Katherine sat in the back of a cab. After years away, M.K. was not looking forward to her visit home to see her father. Eventually, the cab came to a stop in front of an old, dilapidated house.

“That’s not a house, that’s termites holding hands,” said the cab driver. After a moment, he quickly added, “No offense.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine,” said M.K., getting out of the cab.

“Call if you need a quick getaway, kid,” said the driver and sped off.

M.K. stared at the house in front of her. It was probably beautiful once, she thought. But now paint peeled like sunburned skin, the house numbers had fallen off, and the rain gutters were so full of dirt that weeds sprouted out of them. M.K. sighed deeply, walked to the front door, and knocked. When there was no response, she gently pushed the door open.

If the outside of the house had been taken over by nature, the inside seemed to be taken over by a mad scientist with an affection for clutter. Every inch was crammed with scribbled notes, bell jars, scientific drawings, insect collections, and all kinds of homemade scientific gear.

M.K. glimpsed a small display case filled with sharpened twigs and nutshell fragments. They sort of looked like arrows and armor.

What on earth . . . ? she thought.

Just then, Professor Bomba scurried past her, down the hall.

“Let me see,” he muttered to himself, not seeing M.K. at all. “Made of polished acorn shell and thin leather.”

M.K. followed him and found him at a microscope, placing something under it to view.

“Hi, Dad.”

Bomba was startled. “Mary Katherine! You’re here.”

“Yeah,” she replied as he enveloped her in a big hug.

“I didn’t realize today was today,” he said.

M.K. grimaced. “It always is.”

“But here you are, so it must be,” continued Bomba. “Today, I mean. Makes sense.” He quickly changed the subject. “Let me look at you. You look just like your mother!”

An uncomfortable silence hung in the air as each of them thought of M.K.’s mother, who had passed away.

“There actually are a few things I want to talk to you about,” M.K. started to say, but she was interrupted by a sudden bark.

“Ozzy! Look who’s back!” Bomba said to the pug that scampered in. With three legs and one eye, the dog had seen better days.

M.K. was amazed. “Ozzy? He’s still alive?”

Ozzy barked. Then sneezed. Then drooled.

“Well, most of him,” replied Bomba. “He may be down to three legs, but he’ll make a break for it the first chance he gets.” He yelled into the dog’s ear. “Ozzy, go say hi!”

“Here, boy,” M.K. called encouragingly.

Ozzy ran straight . . . past her.

Bomba shrugged. “His depth perception’s a little off, and he has a tendency to run in circles. But that was closer than usual. He remembers you!” He gestured for her to follow him up the stairs. “I have a little surprise for you.”

Bomba opened a bedroom door. “Here we are. Your old room!”

M.K. was almost speechless. The room was princess pink and perfect for a little girl, which she wasn’t anymore.

“It’s like I never left,” M.K. said, a bit horrified.

“All your things are here,” her father continued. “You’ve got your dolls, your pictures. . . .” He looked at her and finally realized that she wasn’t a little girl anymore. “Well, it’s good to have you home, Mary Katherine.”

“Actually, I go by ‘M.K.’ now,” she said.

“Oh. M.K.? I like that,” said Bomba. “It’s more . . . grown-up.”

At that moment, a beeping sound pierced the air.

“What’s that?” asked M.K.

Bomba flipped a switch on his belt sensor to stop the beeping. “That was just one of my sensors,” he explained excitedly. “Today is actually a highly unusual day because there’s both a full moon tonight and the summer solstice, which only coincide every hundred years or so.” Finally, he took a breath. “Well, you probably want some time to settle in. Make yourself at home, Mary, uh, M.K.”

Bomba walked out of the room, gently closing the door behind him. Then he tripped and tumbled down the stairs. “I’m okay!” he shouted.

M.K. sighed. She sat on the tiny bed, her knees almost hitting her chin. In every way, she didn’t fit.

Coming home was the worst idea ever, she thought to herself.