Fortune's Magic Farm Suzanne Selfors (best books for 20 year olds txt) 📖

small fire flickering in the center of the boat’s cabin, an orange cat lounging beside the fire, and a black bird nibbling on a piece of bread.

And last but not least, a figure wearing a hooded cape, stirring a cup of something that smelled wonderful.

The stranger sat so close that Isabelle could hear the liquid swirling inside his mug. She clamped her eyes shut and pretended to still be asleep, then slowed her breathing and snored a few times, for good measure. She had hoped to see him again, to ask him if he had come from Nowhere, but now that he sat nearby she felt a bit afraid. Grandma Maxine had told her never to trust a stranger. “Sometimes,” she had said, “strangers are dangerous.”

The bird squawked.

“I know,” the stranger said, not in a deep, scary voice as one might imagine would come from a cloaked person, but in a youngish, soft voice. Who was he talking to?

The bird squawked again.

“I heard you,” the stranger replied. “I know Isabelle’s awake. She’ll speak to us when she’s ready.”

Isabelle opened her eyes and sat up. The stranger kept his back to her. If he tried to hurt her, the cabin entrance was just a quick dash away. Only the cat lay in her path, stretched out as limp as an orange scarf. Isabelle slid to the edge of the bunk. The black bird squawked again and flew across the cabin, landing beside her leg. It cocked its head and pecked at her hand. “Hey,” she cried as it tried to snatch the seed from her palm. The bird pecked again, this time pinching her skin. “Stop it.”

The stranger turned. “Leave the seed, Rolo.” Then he pushed off his hood.

Isabelle gasped. “You’re just a kid.”

“A kid?” He glared at her, clearly insulted. “I’m twelve. I’m not a kid.”

“Oh. I’m not a kid either.” She tried to sound tough.

“Well, you look like a kid. Look how short you are.” He, on the other hand, wasn’t one bit short. And his skin wasn’t translucent, but as brown as wet driftwood. His hair wasn’t normal either, for it hung in long tangled ropes and was black rather than gray.

“Were you talking to that bird?” Isabelle asked.

“Yep. We talk to each other all the time.”

“That’s kind of weird.”

“Not as weird as carrying a barnacle around in a pickle jar.” He offered the mug to her. “You can have some of this.”

“What is it?”

“Cinnamon tea. Go on. It’ll help you wake up. You’ve got a long journey ahead of you.”

How did he know about her journey? Isabelle’s mouth felt dry. Too bad she hadn’t grabbed a water bottle just before her escape from Mama Lu’s. But maybe it wouldn’t be a good idea to drink tea from a stranger. “I don’t want any tea. I mean, no thank you.”

“Suit yourself.” He tucked one of the tangled ropes behind his ear, then took a long sip from the mug. “I don’t really like tea that much. But it’s easy to travel with.”

The seed started vibrating so fast that it stung Isabelle’s hand. She winced. The bird stared intently, clicking its beak.

“Your apple seed is ready for planting,” the boy said. He reached into a green satchel and removed a small fabric bag. “If you put it into this light-proof bag it will sleep.”

Isabelle cautiously accepted the bag and dropped the seed inside. Sure enough, it stopped vibrating. She tied the string and tucked the bag into her slicker’s pocket.

Birds can talk and seeds can sleep. How very interesting.

“How did you know I had an apple seed?”

“Because I delivered the apples.” The boy took another sip.

“No you didn’t.” Aha! She had caught him in a lie and liars shouldn’t be trusted. She folded her arms, waiting for his explanation.

“Okay, well, technically an elephant seal delivered your apple. But I’m the one who told the seal to deliver it.” He reached into his satchel and pulled out some bread. Isabelle’s stomach growled at the sight of the golden loaf. He tore the bread in half. The inside looked soft and fluffy. The bird flew onto the boy’s shoulder and accepted a morsel of crust.

Isabelle had never tasted fluffy bread. She tried to ignore her moaning stomach. “An elephant seal? Is that what the sea monster is called?”

“Actually, his name is Neptune.”

“He has a name?”

The boy stared, bewildered. “Everyone has a name. Don’t you know that? My name is Sage. The raven’s name is Rolo and the cat’s name is Eve.”

At the sound of her name, the cat began to purr. She raised her head and winked lazily at Isabelle.

Sage held out one of the halves, offering it to Isabelle. “It’s not poisoned or anything. I’m not here to kill you. I’m here to collect you. Go on, eat this. You’ll need food in your belly.” He took a bite. “See. It’s good.”

Her willpower dissolved. She grabbed the bread and sank her teeth into its airy center. She took another bite and another.

Sage smiled. “Don’t they ever feed you in that boardinghouse?”

“Not enough,” she replied with a full mouth. A crumb fell to her feet and was quickly pilfered by the raven.

“I suppose you have a lot of questions,” Sage said, adding a piece of driftwood to the fire. The smoke trailed out the open doorway.

Isabelle nodded, her stuffed cheeks bulging like two apples, but the questions could wait for just a few more bites, surely. She stuffed, chewed, and swallowed, eating as ravenously as Mama Lu and Gertrude after one of their failed diets.

Sage drank the last of his tea. “I can’t explain everything because there isn’t much time. Dawn will be here soon and we need to leave on the morning tide. But I’ll tell you what I can.”

As the fire flickered and the rain fell on the cabin’s roof, Sage spoke quickly. “As I told you, my name is Sage. I traveled down the mountains and across the ocean to find you. All