“Whoever moved Mount Mumble has squashed my turnip cart!” cried Mayor Magpie.
In Boulder Bowl, every paw, hoof, and claw pointed toward Orville, a young thunder bear with silver fur and shoulders as wide as doors. Orville could lift oak trees, juggle boulders, and crack walnuts by blinking hard. Once, he sneezed and blew a shed into next Tuesday. Yet he had never moved a mountain.
Atop the town gate hung a poster: **THE GREAT MOUNTAIN-MOVING CHALLENGE!** Move Mount Mumble back before sunset and win the Golden Honey Pot. Fail, and the wandering mountain would block the river, flooding every den in the bowl.
“I’ll push it,” Orville said.
His best friend, Nima the griffin, raised one feathery eyebrow. “Perhaps ask why it moved first?”
“Mountains don’t have reasons. They have rocks.”
“A stunning scientific speech,” Nima said. “Very rocky.”
Three odd things lay where the mountain had stood: a trail of blue moonflowers, a curl of warm mist smelling of cinnamon, and one enormous red feather. Orville tucked the feather behind his ear. Clearly, a giant bird had stolen the mountain! That clue practically shouted it.
The contest bell bonged. Orville charged across the cramped bowl and planted both paws against Mount Mumble. He shoved. Pebbles hopped. Trees shivered. Somewhere inside, something giggled.
“Stop tickling!” boomed the mountain.
Orville tumbled backward into Mayor Magpie’s replacement turnip cart. Turnips rained upon him like lumpy purple hail.
“Mountains talk?” he sputtered.
“Only when bears listen,” said Nima.
Orville brushed a turnip from his nose. Other competitors rushed in. Brakka, a smug stone troll, hammered wedges beneath the mountain. Twin dragons pulled with chains. Orville pushed again, harder. The ground cracked, the river rose, and Mount Mumble did not budge an inch.
