On a beautiful fall afternoon Cassie and I went for a long walk through the woods and down along the stream. A boy was fishing, his bobber still in the still water. A squirrel scampered up the trunk of a big tree, and a blue jay squawked.

“Ouch!” Cassie yelped.

“What?”

“Something bit me. On the shoulder. It hurt.”

“Let me see,” I said, but before I could take a look several acorns pelted down, narrowly missing us.

“We’re under attack,” I said, and I pulled Cassie a few steps away from the tall oak.

“Oh, acorns,” Cassie exclaimed. “They hurt. Should we run and tell the king?” She laughed, and bent down, and picked up one of the acorns.

“Is that the guilty party?” I asked.

“Yes, he should be punished severely, and all his friends, too,” Cassie demanded. “Cute little scoundrel though, isn’t he?” She twisted the acorn back and forth between her thumb and forefinger. Then she looked at me, her eyes bright and mischievous. “Remember when you said that leaf you found looked like my vulva?”