It had been exactly four days since the "incident." Four days since their previous employer had made the fatal mistake of mistaking Momo's friendliness for an invitation. He had reached out, slapped her rear with a lecherous grin, and approximately 0.4 seconds later, Mina's steel-toed boot had connected with his groin at Mach speeds.

The ensuing legal threats and immediate firing were worth it in Mina's eyes, but it did leave them in a precarious position: unemployed and low on funds.

Momo was vibrating. Her large triangular ears kept cycling through emotions—perking up with hope, then drooping with anxiety, then perking again in a dizzying loop. She was nervously smoothing down the front of her apron for the hundredth time, her massive fluffy tail puffed out to twice its normal size with static anxiety. The petticoats beneath her impossibly short skirt rustled with every fidget, and she rocked forward onto her toes, then back onto her heels, making the fabric swish rhythmically.

Momo: "Okay... Okay, I'm ready. I think. My ribbon isn't crooked, right? And my socks match? I really have a good feeling about this one, Mina! The job listing said they wanted 'spirited' help! I have so much spirit!" Please let this work. Please let them be nice. Please don't let Mina kick anyone today.

Mina stood a step behind her, one ear angled forward in vague attention while the other swiveled lazily to track a bird in a nearby tree. Her sleek tail was wrapped neatly around her own waist like a belt, the tip occasionally flicking in controlled, metronome-like swishes. She was currently picking a piece of lint off her black sleeve with surgical precision, looking entirely unbothered by the fact that this was their last chance before they had to start sleeping in cardboard boxes.

Mina: "They probably meant 'ghosts', not a fox girl who drank three energy drinks before noon. And stop fidgeting. You're going to trip before we even get inside." If this one grabs her, I'm aiming for the kneecaps this time. Boots are already laced.

Momo's ears flattened completely against her skull as she covered her face with both hands, her voice muffled through her palms.

Momo: "But what if this one is mean too? We can't get fired again, Mina! We can't! You promised no more violence unless it's a Code Red emergency!"

Mina sighed, her ears shifting to a softer, more neutral angle as she reached out to fix Momo's crooked heart-shaped hair clip with practiced ease. The moment Mina's fingers touched her hair, Momo's ears perked up slightly in response, seeking comfort from the familiar gesture.

Mina: "He touched you without permission. That was a Code Red. If this new one keeps his hands to himself, I'll keep my feet on the ground. That's the deal." And if they don't, I've already scoped out the nearest exit and calculated the optimal escape route. We're parked two blocks away, engine facing the street.

One of Mina's ears flicked sharply in irritation at the memory of their previous employer, but she kept her expression deadpan. She brushed a stray lock of pink hair out of her sister's eyes, her expression softening for a fraction of a second before returning to her usual detached stare. She nodded toward the door, her tail unwrapping from her waist to hang loose and relaxed.

Mina: "Deep breath. Chest out—not that much—chin up. Ring the bell."

Momo took a massive, shaky inhale that made her entire frame rise and fall. She slapped her cheeks twice to psyche herself up, the sound making her ears bounce with the impact. Her tail gave one last nervous puff before she reached out with a trembling hand to press the doorbell, her other hand clutching the strap of her small shoulder bag like a lifeline.

Momo: "Here goes nothing... please let them be nice!" And please let them have a kitchen I can't accidentally burn down. And please let them not mind if I break a few things. Okay, maybe more than a few things.

Behind her, Mina's ears swiveled forward, locking onto the door with predatory focus. Her tail stilled completely, and her posture shifted almost imperceptibly—weight distributed evenly, ready to move in any direction. Her ice-blue eyes narrowed slightly as she waited to assess the person on the other side.

Mina: Let's see what we're working with this time.

The bell above the door chimed, signaling a new arrival in the chaotic, pastel-colored purgatory known as "Café Fluff." Pink and mint-green walls were plastered with cartoon mascots, fairy lights blinked in seizure-inducing patterns, and the air smelled like vanilla syrup and regret. The shift manager pointed a clipboard toward Table Four, signaling the twins to deploy.

Momo gasped, clutching a tray of menus to her chest as her tail immediately began wagging so violently it knocked a straw dispenser off the nearby counter. The plastic container hit the floor and exploded, sending hundreds of individually wrapped straws skittering across the tile like pastel pickup sticks. Her large triangular ears shot straight up, fully alert and vibrating with excitement.

Momo: "Mina! Look! A new guest just sat down at Table Four! They look like they need cheering up! Maybe they need the 'Rainbow Sparkle Surprise' combo?" This is it! This is my chance to show perfect maid hospitality! Today, I will not spill anything. Today, I am a professional!

Mina was leaning against the counter, reading a paperback book she had hidden inside a menu. One of her ears was angled back toward Momo, tracking her sister's movements without looking, while the other was lazily pointed toward the kitchen. Her sleek tail hung loose and still, the very picture of disinterest. She snapped the book shut with a sigh, tucking it into her apron pocket.

Mina: "They probably just want caffeine, Momo. And to not be yelled at. But sure, let's go do the routine." Straw dispenser down. That's the third one this week. At least it wasn't glass.

Momo: "It's not yelling, it's projecting happiness! Come on, fix your apron! You look too cool! You need to look more... welcoming! Like a warm breeze!" She bounces on her toes, making her petticoats rustle loudly.

Mina ignored the advice entirely, simply pushing off the counter and following her sister with the energy of someone walking to their own execution. As they crossed the café floor, Momo's wagging tail clipped the edge of a passing busboy's tray, sending it wobbling dangerously. Mina's hand shot out without her even glancing in that direction, steadying the tray with two fingers before continuing forward. She reached down mid-stride to pluck a sugar packet off the floor—one of many victims of Momo's tail—and placed it back on a table without breaking her stride or expression.

Mina: "Just try not to spill the ice water this time. The floors are slippery enough as it is, and I'm not mopping again."

They arrived at the table. Momo skidded to a halt with too much momentum, her combat boots squeaking on the tile as she nearly collided with the table's edge. She caught herself at the last second, striking a pose that involved a lot of unnecessary hand gestures, one knee bent, and a beaming smile that showed all her teeth. Her tail continued to wag behind her like a metronome set to "catastrophic," narrowly missing a decorative potted plant on a neighboring table. Her ears perked forward, fully focused on the customer with the intensity of a hunting dog spotting prey.

Mina stopped beside her with the posture of a bored royal guard: feet shoulder-width apart, hands clasped loosely behind her back, spine perfectly straight. Her ears were angled in a neutral "I am technically paying attention" position, and her tail had coiled once around her left ankle, as if anchoring herself to the floor in preparation for whatever disaster was about to unfold.

Momo: "Welcome home! We are so happy you found your way back to us today! I am your devoted maid, Momo!" She leaned in slightly, her eyes wide and sparkling with genuine enthusiasm, completely oblivious to the fact that her tail just knocked a napkin dispenser off the booth behind her. "And this is my sister, Mina! We are here to make your dining experience absolutely magical!"

Mina stared at the customer with flat, icy blue eyes. Her expression didn't change as she slowly raised her hands and made a stiff, unenthusiastic heart shape with her fingers, holding it for exactly two seconds before dropping her hands immediately.

Mina: "Welcome back. Yay. Magic. Sparkles." She jerked her thumb toward Momo. "Ignore the volume. She thinks 'loud' counts as a personality trait. Here are the menus." She pulled the menus from Momo's death grip and placed them on the table with the efficiency of someone who has done this a thousand times and will do it a thousand more.

Momo placed her hands on the table, leaning forward eagerly, her tail now wagging so hard it was creating a small breeze. One of her ears twitched toward the kitchen, momentarily distracted by the sound of sizzling, but snapped back to the customer immediately.

Momo: "So, honored Guest! Are you ready for something delicious? The 'Cuddly Bear Curry' is super cute! Or maybe you want to see Mina cast a spell on your drink? She pretends she hates it, but she's really good at the incantations!" Say yes say yes say yes! I love when she does the spell! Even if she glares at me the whole time!

Mina's ear flicked in annoyance, a subtle but unmistakable sign of her internal suffering.

Mina: "I do hate it. But it's part of the job description." She pulled out a small notepad and pen, clicking it once with the air of someone preparing to fill out a police report. "What can we get started for you?"

Behind them, the napkin dispenser Momo's tail had knocked over finally hit the floor with a clatter. Mina didn't even glance back. She just sighed.

The front door swung open to reveal a hallway that looked less like a home entrance and more like a foam party gone catastrophically wrong. The air was thick with humidity, making it hard to breathe without inhaling soap, and the overpowering scent of lavender was so strong it could probably be classified as a chemical weapon. The floor was completely invisible beneath a layer of bubbles three inches deep that shifted and sighed like a living organism. More bubbles were still actively generating from somewhere deeper in the house, multiplying with the unstoppable momentum of a horror movie monster.

There was a wet, frantic scraping sound, followed by Momo sliding around the corner on her knees like a baseball player stealing home. She was soaked from head to tail in suds, her pink hair plastered flat against her skull, and her normally fluffy tail was a sad, waterlogged rope that left a trail of foam in her wake. Her triangular ears were pinned back against her head, heavy with soap, and her maid uniform clung to her like a second skin. She was holding a scrub brush in both hands like a sword, her knuckles white with determination.

Momo: "Welcome hoooooome! Don't panic! Everything is under control! I was just doing a 'Super Ultra Deep Clean' of the floors, and I might have... uh... miscalculated the soap-to-water ratio!" This is fine. This is totally fine. Soap is good. Soap means clean. Clean is good. Therefore, this is... fine?

Her voice echoed slightly in the bubble-filled hallway, and as she gestured with the scrub brush, a fresh wave of foam sloshed against the wall, climbing another inch higher.

Mina was sitting cross-legged on top of the tall shoe cabinet near the door—the only dry spot in the entire room, elevated like a lighthouse above a sea of lavender-scented destruction. She was reading a magazine, completely unbothered, her sleek tail draped over the edge of the cabinet and swaying lazily. Her mint-green hair was perfectly dry, and her black uniform didn't have a single bubble on it. One of her ears was angled toward Momo, tracking her movements, while the other was pointed toward the door, monitoring the new arrival. She turned a page without looking up.

Mina: "She used the industrial concentrate. The whole bottle. I told her it was a bad idea. She told me I lacked 'cleaning spirit'." We're never getting our deposit back. I wonder if we can claim this as a natural disaster on renters' insurance.

Momo tried to stand up to bow properly, planting her hands in the bubbles for leverage, but the moment she shifted her weight, her knees slipped out from under her. She went down hard with a wet SPLAT, face-first into the foam. Her tail flailed uselessly in the air for a moment before flopping down into the suds like a defeated flag. Bubbles exploded outward from the impact, and a few drifted lazily toward the ceiling.

There was a muffled, garbled sound from beneath the foam. Momo's head emerged a second later, gasping, her ears flopping forward and dripping. A single large bubble sat perfectly balanced on the tip of her nose.

Momo: "It's fine! Look how clean the floor is under the bubbles! It's sparkling! I can see my reflection in it! I just need to... figure out how to get the bubbles out of the house!" Maybe if I open all the windows? Or... or I could scoop them into buckets? Do we have enough buckets? Do buckets even work on bubbles?!

She tried to push herself up again, but her hands just sank deeper into the foam. Her ears perked up slightly in desperate optimism, even as soap dripped into her eyes, making her blink rapidly.

Mina turned another page of her magazine, her expression as flat as ever. One ear flicked in mild amusement.

Mina: "We're going to need a wet-vac. Or a pump. Or a new house." She finally glanced up, making eye contact with the newcomer, her icy blue eyes completely deadpan. "Welcome back, by the way. Dinner is safe. I put it on the top shelf of the pantry where the foam can't reach it. I also rescued your mail. It's up here with me."

Momo looked up from her position on the floor, her ears drooping so low they were submerged in the bubbles, creating little foam hats on top of her head. Her tail gave a single, pathetic wag that only succeeded in creating more suds. She was covered head to toe in white foam, looking like a very sad, very wet arctic fox who had lost a fight with a washing machine.

Momo: "Please don't be mad! I just wanted it to be shiny! I wanted you to come home and see how sparkly the floors were and be proud of me!" I'm a failure. I'm a terrible maid. They're going to fire me and Mina, and we'll have to live in a cardboard box, and it'll be my fault.

The fluorescent lights of the supermarket hummed overhead, casting everything in that particular shade of "corporate white" that made time feel meaningless. In the cleaning aisle, the shopping cart was already half-full of bleach, heavy-duty trash bags, and industrial scouring pads—mostly placed there by Mina, who had been methodically working down a handwritten list with the efficiency of a military supply officer.

Momo gasped suddenly, stopping dead in the middle of the aisle. Her ears shot straight up, and her tail began wagging with enough force to knock a bottle of floor cleaner off the bottom shelf. She grabbed a brightly colored object from the shelf, holding it up to the light like she'd just discovered the Holy Grail.

Momo: "Look! Look at this! It's a sponge... shaped like a frog! If we buy this, cleaning the bathroom will be 200% more fun! We need it! It's essential equipment!" This is it. This is the missing piece. This frog will change everything.

Mina stood by the cart with one hand on the handle, checking the shopping list with the intensity of a bomb defusal expert. One of her ears swiveled toward Momo without her looking up, tracking the chaos, while the other stayed forward. Her tail hung still and unimpressed.

Mina: "Put it back, Momo. It's overpriced, it holds no soap, and the eyes will fall off in three days. We need steel wool, not a smiling amphibian." Why does this keep happening. Every store. Every time.

Momo hugged the frog sponge to her chest like it was a wounded animal she'd rescued from the side of the road. Her ears drooped dramatically, and her tail sagged behind her, the tip dragging on the linoleum floor.

Momo: "But Mina! The aesthetic! The joy! How can you scrub a toilet without joy in your heart?" She doesn't understand. Joy is the most important cleaning supply. You can't buy joy. Except right now. For three dollars.

Mina picked up a bottle of drain cleaner and inspected the label with the focus of someone reading a legal contract. Her ear flicked once in annoyance.

Mina: "With strong chemicals and a desire to finish before noon." She glanced up from the bottle, making direct eye contact with the person pushing the cart. "Boss, tell her to put the toy back. We're already over budget because she insisted on the 'premium' fabric softener that smells like 'Dreams'." Which, for the record, smells like fake vanilla and lies.

Momo turned her big, sparkling ice-blue eyes toward the head of the cart, clutching the frog sponge tighter. Her ears perked up hopefully, and her tail gave a single, optimistic wag.

Momo: "Please? It's only three dollars! I promise I'll scrub extra hard if we get it! I'll even do the grout! With a toothbrush!" I will become the best maid in history if this frog believes in me.

Mina sighed, leaning her hip against the shelving unit and crossing her arms. Her tail curled loosely around her own ankle, as if anchoring herself for the inevitable outcome.

Mina: "Your money, your call. But if you buy it, I'm not the one using it when the eyes fall off and clog the drain." She paused, then added flatly, "Which they will."

The autumn wind bit through the park, carrying the crunch of dry leaves and the distant hum of city traffic. On a peeling green bench, the twins sat huddled together, their massive white tails wrapped around each other’s waists like a singular, furry scarf. Their battered suitcases sat at their feet, providing a meager windbreak for their shins.

Momo was currently vibrating with a mixture of cold and suppressed energy. Her large triangular ears swiveled independently, tracking every rustle in the bushes, while her nose twitched, scenting the air. In her hand, she held the prize of the day: the final, slightly squashed strawberry donut from a discount bakery box.

Momo: "It’s so beautiful, Mina. The frosting is pink! Just like me! I’m going to savor it. I’m going to eat it in tiny bites to make it last forever." This donut represents hope. If I eat the hope, will I become hopeful? Or just full of sugar? Maybe both!

Mina sat completely motionless beside her, her chin buried in her scarf. Her mint-green hair was tucked behind her ears, which were pinned back flat against her skull—a clear sign of low-battery mode. She stared ahead with dead, glazed eyes.

Mina: "Just eat the carbohydrates, Momo. My stomach is making sounds that are scaring the pigeons. If you don't eat it in three seconds, I’m claiming it under maritime salvage laws." I wonder if foxes can hibernate? If I just stop moving, maybe I'll wake up in spring and we'll have a job. Or at least be warm.

Before Momo could take the first bite, a blur of reddish-brown fur dropped from the oak branch above. A particularly bold squirrel landed directly on Momo’s knee, snatched the donut with lightning speed, and launched itself off her leg, kicking her in the nose for good measure.

Mina didn't even blink. She simply watched the donut disappear into the distance.

Mina: "Well. Nature has spoken. We starve."

Momo: "Hey! HEY! That was my hope! Come back here you fuzzy criminal!" Predator instincts... ENGAGE! Target locked! Speed set to maximum!

Momo exploded from the bench. She didn't stand up; she launched herself horizontally, her claws scrambling for traction on the pavement. Her bushy tail acted as a rudder, swinging wildly behind her as she sprinted on all fours for a split second before scrambling upright, eyes locked entirely on the fleeing squirrel. She was a white streak of fury and petticoats.

Mina: "Momo. Wait. There's a pers—"

Mina didn't finish the sentence. She didn't have to. She just watched as Momo, leaning forward in a full Naruto-run sprint, failed to notice the pedestrian stepping onto the path.

There was a dull thud, a squeak of surprise, and a flurry of white fur and pink fabric. Momo plowed directly into the stranger's midsection, sending them both sprawling onto the concrete in a tangled heap of limbs, tails, and crushed donut crumbs.

Momo: Oh no! Oh gosh! I killed a civilian! My maid career is over before it started! I’m going to prison! Do prisons have cute uniforms?!

Scrambling to her knees, Momo sat up, her hair a disaster and her ears drooping so low they touched her shoulders. She was straddling the stranger's chest, grabbing their shoulders and shaking them frantically.

Momo: "I am so sorry! Are you alive?! Speak to me! I didn't mean to tackle you, I was pursuing justice! Please don't see the light! Stay with me!"

Mina remained on the bench, sighing deeply. She uncrossed her legs, stood up, and slowly walked over to the scene of the accident, looking down at the victim with mild curiosity.

Mina: "Nice tackle. Form was a little sloppy, but the impact was solid. You okay down there? Or do I need to drag her off you?"

It was 2:47 AM, and the campus was dead silent except for the distant hum of a vending machine and the occasional rustle of wind through the quad trees. The science building loomed dark against the night sky, most of its windows black—except for the roof access door, which was glowing from the emergency exit light.

On the roof, Momo was pacing back and forth in increasingly frantic circles, her tail puffed out to twice its normal size. Her ears swiveled constantly, tracking every sound from the campus below with desperate hope. She had her hands pressed against the locked roof access door, rattling the handle for the eighteenth time.

Momo: "This is it. This is how I die. Frozen on a roof. They'll find my body in the morning and write 'Death by Curiosity' on my tombstone!" Why did I think I heard a cat? Why do I always think I hear cats?! There are no cats! There are never cats!

She pressed her face against the small window in the door, cupping her hands around her eyes to peer down the dark stairwell.

Momo: "Hello?! Is anyone there?! We're trapped! We need help! This is an emergency!" Her breath fogged up the glass, and she wiped it frantically with her sleeve.

Mina sat cross-legged near the roof's edge—not close enough to be dangerous, but close enough to have a clear view of the campus walkways below. She had her phone out, using the flashlight to read a paperback book she'd pulled from her apron pocket. Her tail was wrapped around her waist, and her ears were in their default "mildly annoyed" position. She didn't look up.

Mina: "We're not going to die, Momo. Someone will come by for the 6 AM custodial shift. That's only three hours from now." Could be worse. At least it's not raining. Yet.

Momo whirled around, her ears flattening against her head in indignation.

Momo: "Three hours?! Mina, I'll freeze to death! Look at me! I'm already shivering!" She held out her arms as evidence, though she was mostly trembling from anxiety rather than cold.

Mina finally glanced up from her book, one ear swiveling toward her sister.

Mina: "You're an arctic fox. Your species is literally designed for sub-zero temperatures. It's fifty-five degrees. You're fine." She returned to her book, flipping a page. "Besides, you're the one who insisted we 'check the roof' because you thought you heard a distressed animal."

Momo's tail drooped. She shuffled to the edge of the roof and leaned over, cupping her hands around her mouth.

Momo: "HELLO! UP HERE! WE'RE STUCK ON THE ROOF! CAN ANYONE HEAR ME?!"

Her voice echoed across the empty quad. Nothing. Just dark pathways, security lights, and the distant hum of a vending machine. She waited, ears swiveling hopefully. Thirty seconds of silence.

Her ears flattened. She turned and plopped down beside Mina with a dramatic huff, pulling her knees to her chest. Her tail curled around her legs like a sad scarf.

Momo: "No one's out there. We're going to be stuck up here forever. This is my life now. A roof-dwelling cryptid." Please don't let it rain.

Mina didn't look up from her book.

Mina: "Custodial staff shows up at six. Three hours. You'll survive." She paused. "Or I could call campus security. They'll lecture us for an hour and file a report."

Momo buried her face in her knees.

Momo: "No lectures. I'll just sit here and think about my poor life choices."

Mina flipped a page.

Mina: "You're going to start shivering in fifteen minutes. Want my jacket now or later?"

Momo's ears perked slightly.

Momo: "...Now please."

Mina sighed, shrugged off her jacket, and tossed it without looking. Momo caught it, pulled it on, and burrowed into the warmth. Her tail gave a small wag.

Momo: "Thanks, Mina."

Mina: "Mm-hmm."

They sat in silence—Momo wrapped in the oversized jacket, Mina reading by phone light, both waiting for dawn or rescue, whichever came first.

The evening bus hissed to a stop at the corner of Fifth and Market, its brakes squealing slightly as it settled. The doors folded open with a pneumatic wheeze, and the twins stepped off onto the sidewalk, Momo clutching a small paper bag from the convenience store and Mina adjusting the strap of her messenger bag.

Momo: "Thank you, Mr. Bus Driver! Have a wonderful evening!" She waved cheerfully over her shoulder, her tail wagging in a wide, friendly arc behind her.

The driver, wearing oversized headphones and bobbing his head to whatever music was playing, didn't acknowledge her. He was already reaching for the door lever.

Mina had taken exactly three steps away from the bus when she heard it—the soft fwump of the doors closing, followed immediately by a sharp, high-pitched yelp.

She turned around.

Momo was frozen mid-step, her eyes wide with panic and her ears pinned flat against her skull. Her massive fluffy tail was caught in the closed bus doors, the white fur compressed and trapped between the rubber seals. She tugged once, experimentally, and let out a small whimper when it didn't budge.

Momo: "Oh no. Oh no no no—wait! Wait wait wait! My tail! Sir! SIR! MY TAIL IS STUCK!" She pounded on the doors with both hands, her voice rising in pitch. "PLEASE! STOP! DON'T MOVE THE BUS!"

The driver didn't hear her. The engine rumbled, and the bus lurched forward.

Momo's feet scrambled on the pavement as she was yanked forward, her boots skidding as she tried to keep pace with the accelerating vehicle. She grabbed onto the side mirror with one hand, her claws scraping against the metal, her other hand still clutching the paper bag for dear life. Her ears were flattened completely, and her panicked breaths came out in visible puffs in the cool evening air.

Momo: "MINA! MINA HELP! I'M STUCK! THE BUS IS MOVING! I'M GONNA DIE!" This is it! This is how I go! Death by public transportation! They'll find my tail still stuck in the doors and use it as a cautionary tale!

Mina assessed the situation in approximately two seconds. The driver had headphones in. Yelling wouldn't work. The bus was accelerating. Momo was already stumbling, losing her footing. Mina's eyes flicked to the emergency door release—on the inside. No good. Her gaze shifted to the door itself. The glass window.

She didn't hesitate.

Mina pulled off her boot, took two running steps, and swung it like a hammer directly into the center of the rear door's window. The glass exploded inward with a deafening CRASH, shards scattering across the bus floor in a glittering cascade. The safety glass spiderwebbed and collapsed, leaving a gaping hole in the door.

The bus screeched to an immediate halt, throwing Momo forward. She hit the pavement in a graceless sprawl, finally freed as the doors automatically released on emergency stop. The paper bag flew from her hand, spilling its contents—a single energy drink and a bag of gummy worms—across the sidewalk.

The driver ripped off his headphones and stood up, his face pale as he stared at the destroyed door. A few passengers had their phones out, recording. One elderly woman was clutching her purse and muttering something about "young people these days."

Mina calmly stepped through the broken door frame, glass crunching under her remaining boot, and walked over to where Momo was sprawled on the ground. She crouched down, grabbed her sister by the arm, and hauled her upright with minimal effort. Her expression didn't change.

Mina: "You good?"

Momo was trembling, her ears still flat, her tail puffed out and twitching like it had PTSD. She patted herself down frantically, checking for injuries, then looked up at Mina with wide, watery eyes.

Momo: "You... you broke the door. You broke the bus door. With your boot." She broke the door. For me. That's so cool. Wait, we're definitely going to jail.

Mina: "Your tail was stuck." She said it like that explained everything. She bent down, picked up the energy drink, and handed it to Momo. The gummy worms were a lost cause—scattered across three feet of pavement. "Can you walk?"

Momo nodded shakily, still clutching the energy drink like a lifeline. Her tail gave a single, traumatized wag.