‘Now, Lucy,’ purred Barnaby, waking from his nap with a soft yawn, ‘it is time for a very special story. A Final Chapter sandwich. It is a tale of beginnings and endings, and it needs a very particular ingredient to be whole. The pickle.’ He pointed with his paw to a tiny, sparkling pickle, sitting on a miniature silver platter beside a magnificent turkey sandwich.
Lucy's eyes gleamed. She loved pickles! But just as Barnaby reached out a paw, a quick, shadowy blur darted past! Whoosh! The little pickle was gone! It had been snatched by a mischievous shadow-sprite, no bigger than Lucy’s thumb, giggling as it zipped towards the highest shelf, holding the pickle tightly.
‘Oh, no!’ cried Lucy. She wanted to stamp her foot, or shout, or chase after the naughty sprite. But Barnaby’s calm voice stopped her. ‘Easy, little one. Force will only make him hide further. This story, like many important ones, requires not strength, but cleverness. How might we convince him to return our Final Chapter?’