Ally had spent the whole afternoon being read to, and she now lay on her tummy in her greenhouse retreat with the thoughts of kings and queens in her head.
A fine number of seasons passed, many of which were filled with shimmering Christmas trees and warm summer picnics in the wheat fields.
*Psst!* Ally whispered, nudging Oz with her snout. He was sprawled out on William’s tummy, the motion of which raised him up and down with each snore.
“Wives can do that, you know! It’s an ability every little girl is born with! They can destroy a man with a single glance.” William argued.
William and Ashley had frantically looked for Ally and Oz that morning. They ran down the spiral stars and into the den, calling out to them as they lifted cushions and examined potted plants.
That night, while William and Ashley were sleeping in the tower’s peek, Oz awoke. His little pink ears perked up and his snout snorted softly.
It had been several weeks since Oz had runaway, and since then the clouds had become higher and thinner in the sky.
Oz, whose nose was ideally shaped for oinking, snorted himself awake. He was lying next to Ally under the shade of the gigantic oak in the courtyard.
Tall stalks of wheat waved and thrashed, much like a pale violent sea. Above was a thunderous night sky; flashing and crackling as a small little stuffed pig and a small little stuffed alligator stumbled through the cold mud.