The autumn wind carried the smell of ripe nuts and woodsmoke. Lily sat on a mossy log, watching the little people prepare for the Great Acorn Race. Tiny carts made of walnut shells were lined up at the starting line, each pulled by a pair of beetles.
“You’ve never seen a race?” Bramble asked, perched on her knee.
“We have races where I come from,” Lily said. “But nothing like this.”
Thorn, now a grudging ally, handed her a flag made of a blueberry leaf. “You get to start the race.”
Lily raised the flag. The beetles clicked their mandibles. The little people held their breath.
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The air show crowd stretched across the flight line, thousands of faces turned toward the sky. Major Elena Vasquez sat in her F-16, the canopy closed, the engine humming, the radio crackling with the voices of her wingmen.
"Thunderbird Lead, you are cleared for takeoff."
She pushed the throttle, felt the jet surge beneath her, felt the familiar pull of gravity as she lifted into the sky. Below, the crowd was a blur of colors, the announcer's voice echoing across the field.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the United States Air Force Thunderbirds!"
She climbed, rolled, brought the jet down i
"Thunderbird Lead, you are cleared for takeoff."
She pushed the throttle, felt the jet surge beneath her, felt the familiar pull of gravity as she lifted into the sky. Below, the crowd was a blur of colors, the announcer's voice echoing across the field.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the United States Air Force Thunderbirds!"
She climbed, rolled, brought the jet down i