The Bite Marks on the Fair Flag

On fair-preparation morning, an indigo cloth flag had a jagged edge. Jibjib imagined beak marks, Jeed imagined gecko teeth, and Tuam imagined a mouse. Hookhook said, “Those are possibilities, not answers yet.”

The children stayed behind an adult's safety cord and used a long-handled magnifier. The edge had no paired tooth marks. It held fuzzy threads, while indigo fibers clung to a thin wire behind the flag.

Hookhook made a safe model with scrap cloth, soft cord, and a blunt twig—no sharp wire. After repeated rubbing, the cloth frayed into jagged shapes like the flag. Tuam counted each pass with tamarind seeds.

An adult removed the flag. Every torn place lined up with the wire. Last night's wind had rubbed the fabric much longer than their model test. No animal needed to be hunted down or made to prove innocence.

The crew covered the wire and left space around the new flag. Hookhook placed a magnifying-glass picture beside the evidence notebook. The flag flew freely, and every first guess had become a question instead of an accusation.