“Revolution.” The word slips out on my breath.
“What?” Devon wrinkles his nose.
“Revolution. There’s a revolution underfoot.”
“Afoot, you mean. A revolution afoot. And politics aren’t that bad. Not yet, anyway.”
“No, Devon. Look. The mushrooms. They’re growing in a square. Those weren’t made by fairy feet.”
“The Ogre Squaredance.” He laughs like it was all a game. “You don’t still believe in that child’s play, do you?”
“No, no. Of course not.” I look over my shoulder, marking the place in memory. “Child’s play.”
As soon as I shake Devon, I’ll go back. Fairies don’t dance in squares.