#Douglas Squirrel — The Traffic Cone Incident

The medallion is jammed into the crook of a tree along a narrow trail. You touch it, and hear—

“Oh great, finally! Another human.”

A squirrel lands in front of you with a loud thump for something so small. His tail bristles like he’s been electrocuted by rage.

“I’m Douglas. Douglas Squirrel.”

A pause.

“Yes, Douglas Douglas Squirrel. Don’t laugh. My parents were traditionalists. Or confused. Or possibly both.”

He starts pacing, muttering. “One medallion, that’s all it took. Now suddenly I can hear you all. Talking, stomping, losing your keys near my burrow. And him.”

He spins toward you. “You know Remy? Raccoon? Shifty eyes, smug face, big ideas, smells like pocket lint?”

You nod, cautiously.

“He’s been tormenting me. Last week he stole my entire winter stash and replaced it with acorns made of soap. Who carves acorns out of soap?! Then there was the traffic cone incident. Don’t ask. It’s still emotionally raw.”

You open your mouth to ask a question, but he cuts you off with a rapid squeaky barrage.

“Why are you even here? Wait, don’t answer. Let me guess. Medallion quest. Magical destiny. Talk to animals. Find truth, uncover meaning, blah blah. I’ve heard it. Everyone’s heard it. It’s like the new seasonal migration.”

He scurries up the tree, tail flicking, then peers back down.

“If you see that raccoon again, tell him I will get my revenge. I’ve got a whole pile of pinecones marinating in vinegar. It’s going to be sticky justice.”

Then, quieter:

“…And if you happen to have a traffic cone—no reason—you know, just lying around…”

He dashes off mid-sentence, leaving only falling bark and faint grumbling in his wake.

You’re left standing beneath the tree, wondering how one raccoon could cause so much trouble… and how long it’ll take Douglas to calm down.