The oak tree had been dropping things all morning. Small, firm sounds came down through the leaves. Tick. Tuck. Tok.

Gerald the squirrel froze mid-step. He looked at the ground, then up at the tree, then briefly at the sky, as if the sky might clarify its position. Another acorn landed three inches from his paw.

Gerald approached carefully. He did not touch it yet. “It has fallen,” he said. Mabel the field mouse glanced up from the roots. “Yes,” she said. “That is how acorns arrive.”

Gerald circled the acorn once. “It may be important.” “All acorns are important,” Mabel said. “Some of them are trees.” Gerald inhaled slowly. “This one feels specifically important.”

Mabel stepped over and placed both front paws on the acorn. “It is firm,” she said. “It is shaped like itself. It appears to be an acorn.” Gerald leaned closer. “Exactly.”

He lowered his voice. “If I bury it in the wrong place, the future will be incorrect.” Mabel blinked. “The future has survived worse.”

Gerald began pacing around the acorn. “There are variables,” he said. “Soil density. Sun exposure. Emotional tone of the ground.” “The ground has an emotional tone?” “Of course. Some ground is optimistic.” Mabel looked down at the dirt. It looked like dirt.

Gerald picked up the acorn and ran three feet. He stopped, dug once, covered it, then uncovered it again. “No,” he said. “Too decisive.” He picked it up again.

“Gerald,” Mabel said, “you bury hundreds.” “Yes,” he replied, slightly offended. “But this is one of them.” He paused. “This is the fourteenth location I have assessed this season. The correct one has not yet presented itself.” Mabel said nothing to that.

Wind moved the leaves overhead. Another acorn fell somewhere behind them. Tick. “The oak continues,” Gerald said. “Yes.”

Gerald walked to the base of the tree. He dug once, then twice, not deeply. He placed the acorn inside and covered it carefully. Then he pressed the soil flat with both paws. “There.”

“Is it correct?” Gerald considered the spot for a moment. “It is located. For now.”

They stood quietly. Gerald sniffed once. He ran five steps away, stopped, turned back, and nodded. Then he stepped briefly into a bush. “Does that help?” Mabel asked. “It resets my perspective,” Gerald said.

The oak dropped another acorn. Tick. Gerald froze again. Mabel sighed softly. “The Bureau will be busy today.” Gerald nodded solemnly. “Yes,” he said. “The future is falling.” And they went to inspect it.

Later, the Bureau entered a notation:

Acorn Placement — Soil Division

Subclass: Routine Placement — No Unusual Anxiety Recorded.

Gerald read the notation. He stood beside it for a moment. He did not file an amendment.

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