Chapter 1
The Fish of Extraordinary Importance
Deep in the winding waters of Bramble Creek lived a clan of seven otters who were famous for three things: Stealing anything that wasn't nailed down. Arguing about absolutely everything. Having the worst luck of any creatures in the forest. But there was one thing they all agreed on. The fish hatchery had to be robbed. Not because they were evil. Not because they wanted gold. But because, on the other side of the river, behind a tall wooden fence and a gate guarded by a very grumpy heron, sat the largest collection of delicious fish any otter had ever seen. Thousands of fish. Silver fish. Speckled fish. Fat fish. Skinny fish. Fish swimming in neat little rows as though they were waiting to be eaten. And the otters? Well, the otters were starving. At least, that's what they told themselves after eating breakfast, second breakfast, and the emergency breakfast they kept hidden beneath a rock.
The trouble began on a day like any other.
Papa Otter, whose real name was Bartholomew but who insisted everyone call him Boss, stood atop a moss-covered boulder overlooking the river.
He wore a battered old fishing hat, a crooked grin, and the expression of someone who had just discovered a very profitable mistake.
"Family," he announced.
Nobody looked up.
Aunt Mabel was picking mud out of her fur.
The twins, Pip and Squeak, were arguing over a clam.
Grandpa Gus was asleep in a patch of sunlight with his mouth open.
And little Willa was trying to teach a frog to juggle pebbles.
"FAMILY!" Boss Otter roared.
Seven heads snapped around.
"I have an announcement."
"Are we moving?" asked Mabel.
"Are we dying?" asked Pip.
"Is breakfast ready?" asked Squeak.
Grandpa Gus snorted himself awake.
"If this is about that incident with the beaver dam," he muttered, "I maintain that the dam was already leaning."
Boss Otter ignored them.
He slowly reached into his coat and pulled out a folded piece of paper.
He unfolded it.
Then he turned it upside down.
Then he turned it sideways.
Finally, he held it out to Willa.
"Which way does this map go?"
Willa studied the paper.
"It's a grocery list, Papa."
Boss Otter cleared his throat.
"That," he said, "is what the authorities want you to believe."
The clan leaned closer.
Boss Otter pointed a paw toward the far bend in the river.
"Beyond the old willow tree. Past the beaver dam. Beyond the muddy shallows. There stands a place of wonder, a place of beauty, a place of unimaginable riches."
Pip gasped.
"A treasure cave?"
"No."
"A castle?"
"No."
"A giant clam that grants wishes?"
"Why would anyone keep a clam in a castle?" Squeak whispered.
Boss Otter spread his paws.
"The Bramble Creek Fish Hatchery!"
Silence.
Then Grandpa Gus began to cry.
"Beautiful," he whispered.
"Have you been there?" asked Willa.
"No," Grandpa Gus replied. "But I once dreamed about a sardine."
Boss Otter climbed down from the boulder.
"Inside those walls are more fish than we could eat in a hundred lifetimes!"
"How many fish is that?" asked Pip.
"Approximately..." Boss Otter paused. "A lot."
"And you want us to steal them?" asked Mabel.
Boss Otter grinned.
"My dear sister, I want us to perform a perfectly planned, flawlessly executed, historically magnificent fish acquisition."
"You mean steal," said Willa.
"I prefer the professional terminology."
Squeak raised a paw.
"What happens if we get caught?"
Boss Otter's grin widened.
"Then," he declared, "we shall have to come up with an even better plan."
And that, dear reader, was how the most infamous fish heist in Bramble Creek history began.
Although, in fairness, it was also how the clan's last three disasters had begun.