Once a year, the Market Square became the Kids' Market — a whole day of kids trading things they'd made. Stalls piled high with treasures, colored flags snapping in the wind, and the smell of fresh paint everywhere.

At her stall, Liska held up the small white-wood fox she'd spent all week carving, and turned him in the light.

"Ferdinand," she announced. "You are an explorer. You've crossed three deserts and a swamp."

She blew a wood shaving off his nose — pfff! — "Maybe four deserts. We'll see."

She set him in the center of her stall, licked her paw, and smoothed down his ear. "There. Now sit nicely!"

Around her, there was everything you could imagine — towers of painted stones, bracelets with tiny bells, clay beads as big as your fist. Ferdinand sat on his piece of cloth. Plain wood among glitter.

All around, kids swapped treasures, squealing, shoving, climbing over each other.

Liska waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Kids streamed past. Nobody even glanced at Ferdinand, like he was invisible.

Her smile wilted.

She scooped Ferdinand up and marched into the crowd. "This is Ferdinand," she told a tabby cat with painted shells. "He's an explorer. He's crossed four deserts and a swamp! Let's trade!"

The tabby squinted. "Nah, he isn't sparkly."

"He doesn't NEED to be sparkly. He's the bravest!"

But the tabby was already looking away.

She tried a fluffy Persian kitten. "Look, he fits in your pocket and he's sparkly on the inside!"

"I want a doll," said the kitten.

"He can BE a doll! Watch!" She made Ferdinand walk across her paw — tap tap tap — then sit, then bow. "See? He does tricks!"

The kitten shook her head.

A hot feeling crept up Liska's cheeks. Her arm felt heavy. She pulled Ferdinand back, clutching him to her chest, away from prying eyes.

"Poor Ferdinand," she whispered. "They made you sad."

She crawled behind her stall and tucked Ferdinand under her arm where nobody could see him. Or reject him again.

Her table felt very small, and she felt very small behind it.

A dark face appeared upside-down over the edge of the stall. Golden eyes blinked at her. Tahrra crawled under the table and squeezed in next to Liska.

Her golden eyes went from Liska's scrunched-up face to Ferdinand, tucked away and hidden. She put an arm around Liska's shoulders and hugged her tight.

"What happened, kitty?"

"Nobody wants my Ferdinand!" Liska burst out. "I showed him to EVERYONE and they all want sparkly things and dolls and nobody even LOOKED at him properly!"

Tahrra waited until Liska ran out of breath. "Who do you want to have him?"

Liska went quiet. Her paw found Ferdinand in her lap.

"Someone who REALLY needs him," she said. She pressed Ferdinand against her cheek. "Don't worry. We'll find you a good home."

She burst out from under the table and marched back into the crowd, Ferdinand in one paw. In her hurry, she didn't notice the tablecloth catch on her shoulders. She was wearing a magnificent cape now.

Just offering him didn't work, she thought.

She watched a boy struggle to stack painted stones that kept toppling. She watched two girls argue over who got the bracelet with the biggest bell.

Who might need Ferdinand? she thought.

A girl had built an enormous dollhouse — a castle, really, with towers and tiny curtains. Liska rushed over. "Look, Ferdinand! You could explore this whole castle!"

The girl wrinkled her nose. "It's a castle. Ponies live in castles. Ponies are afraid of foxes."

The old heat flared in Liska's cheeks. She squeezed Ferdinand tight. But this time she kept walking.

At the far edge of the market, a small lynx cub crouched over a piece of bark. On it, he'd built an entire forest — moss for meadows, twigs for trees, tiny stones for a river.

It was beautiful. And completely empty. No creatures anywhere in it.

Liska crouched beside him. "Wow, there's so much here!"

He peeked at her from behind his forest. "It's the Great North Woods." He paused, a bit sad. "But all the animals have left for the market. There's no one to explore it."

Liska looked at the empty forest. She looked at Ferdinand.

"Hmm, I know someone," she said.

On the table next to the forest, the lynx cub had lined up his trade pieces. A stout bear. A rabbit with long ears. And at the end, a small white ermine with bright eyes and a long, sneaky body.

Liska's paw stopped.

She picked up the ermine and turned it slowly. It settled into her palm like it had always been there. Its tiny face looked like it had a question it wanted to ask.

She could already see it. The ermine, slipping through grass. Climbing a tree. Discovering a cave behind a waterfall.

She held her breath. This one needed a name.

"I'll trade you Ferdinand for the ermine," said Liska. Her voice was steady, but she held Ferdinand a little tighter for one last second. "He's an explorer. He's crossed four deserts and a swamp. He'll be brave enough for your whole forest."

The lynx cub's eyes went wide. He took Ferdinand carefully in both paws and turned him, studying the pointy ears, the clever nose. "Four deserts?" he asked in surprise.

"And a swamp."

The lynx cub set Ferdinand at the edge of the moss meadow, facing the trees. Ferdinand looked right at home.

Liska remembered the little fox she was named after — the one who went off to explore the great northern woods. "Now it's your turn, Ferdinand," she whispered, and gave him a little push forward.

"Then Ferdinand is mine," said the lynx cub.

"And the ermine is mine," said Liska.

They shook paws — squeezed tight. That was it. Now Ferdinand lived in the forest.

Liska sat beside Lynx Cub, the ermine warm in her paw. Together they made Ferdinand trek through the Great North Woods — past the stone river, under the twig canopy, up the bark mountain.

After a while, Liska held her ermine up to the light. She turned it slowly, studying the bright eyes, the curious nose, the clever little paws.

"Slypaws," she said quietly. "Your name is Slypaws. And I'm going to tell you about the world outside this forest. There are deserts, Slypaws. At least four. And a swamp."