June in England proved to be a wonderful thing. The sun was shining to the greatest of its ability, beating down on the citizens of Magical London. Phie stood at the front doors of the greenhouse welcoming in patrons from the hot sun, inviting them to sit by the babbling creek or take refuge in the more shaded parts of the place. To those who merely passed by, she offered large colocasias to provide shade for anyone who might need it. A few accepted the offer, having been given a leaf to use as a sort of sun umbrella before, while others waved her off with polite smiles.

The morning had passed uneventfully enough, however in the background Philomena knew that trouble was afoot. Tchaikovsky had started the morning by ticking off the large, billowing vines of wisteria that hung over many of the entrance gates and had started a battle of who could get the last laugh. For the small fox, it seemed it was all fun and games, but Phie knew that the wisteria vines were not in the habit of suffering fools for very long. And Tchai could be an incredible example of a fool sometimes.

After passing off the welcome desk to an employee, Philomena turned to follow the sound of her fox’s chittering as he wound his way up to the third level of the massive greenhouse. It was there she found the animal, his tail swishing back and forth, and a sense of foreboding quickly started to overcome her. Shoving it away, Phie caught sight of her brother and raised a hand to wave him over. “Andrea,” she called exasperatedly. “Andy, the wisteria’s taunting Tchaikovsky again.”

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