Image Description: A warm, golden-toned illustration in a storybook style. Four silhouetted figures walk along a winding path through a sunlit forest: a woman (Lady Biscotti) walks beside a large, sturdy Labrador–Retriever (Biggie), while a man (Sir Dunkalot) walks alongside a smaller fox red Labrador (Indy). The scene glows with soft amber light. Floating above them in the sky is a custard cream biscuit with a raspberry swirl in the centre. In the background stands a crumbling stone chapel framed by tall trees, giving the setting an enchanted, mysterious feel.
Chapter Five: The Rogue Revealed
The raspberry trail grew denser, leading the team out of the woods and toward the orchard edge at the top of Ketts Heights. Lady Biscotti adjusted her scarf, pausing to examine a deep red smear on a stone.
“Fresh,” she whispered. “And not just jam. That’s pure raspberry.”
Biggie snorted, tail stiff. Indy gave a low growl — a warning. Sir Dunkalot stepped forward, his leather jacket creaking slightly, And then they saw it.
Leaning against a fallen fruit crate, half-shaded by ivy and thorns, stood a tall, hunched figure. Cloaked in purple fruit-leather, its arms sticky with jam, it turned slowly to face them.
A single raspberry sat where its heart should be — pulsing faintly, unnaturally bright.
“You’re the Raspberry Rogue,” Lady Biscotti said calmly, her voice steady.
The creature laughed — a wet, squelchy sound. “You ruined me,” it rasped. “Cast out. Left to rot.”
Sir Dunkalot raised a brow. “From the Fruit Olympics?”
The rogue sneered. “They said I cheated. Accused me of being… enhanced. But I was just better. So they threw me out.”
“Into the woods,” Lady Biscotti finished. “Or perhaps out of a pub?”
The rogue twitched. “What do you know of pubs?”
“We know Almond Square,” Sir Dunkalot said. “And we know what happens to bad fruit that spoil the batch.”
The rogue’s eyes burned. “I tried to become something new. I trained in secret. I studied jamlines. And now I’ll go back — with the tin!”
It pointed toward the biscuit tin — the Sealed One — which shimmered faintly in the trees beyond.
“Not without all ten biscuits, you won’t,” Lady Biscotti said firmly. “And you don’t have the key.”
The rogue snarled and lunged.
But Biggie was quicker.
With ears flapping , he barrelled forward and knocked the rogue clean off its jammy feet. Indy followed with a swift side slide, cutting off any escape.
Lady Biscotti moved fast, reaching into Biggie’s biscuit pouch. She pulled out a custard cream — perfectly intact.
“Number four,” she said. “We’ve got four.”
The rogue groaned. “You’ll never find them all.”
“We will,” said Sir Dunkalot. “Because we’re not doing this alone.”
From the trees behind them, the Mushroom Men of Misilanina emerged once more — silent, watchful, and glowing faintly with forest energy. Shiitake approached and gently pressed his hand to the rogue’s chest.
“There is bitterness in this fruit,” he said solemnly. “But it can be… preserved.”
Chanterelle stepped forward. “We can show you another way. Not revenge — redemption.”
The rogue twitched. “Why would you help me?”
Lady Biscotti raised her camera and, with deliberate care, captured the moment — not a mugshot, but a portrait. A record of what change could look like.
“Because everyone deserves a second chance,” she said softly.
The rogue said nothing, but it didn’t resist as the Mushroom Men guided it away, deeper into the woods.
Sir Dunkalot looked down at the custard cream in Lady Biscotti’s hand.
“Four down. Six to go.”
She tucked it gently back into Biggie’s pouch and smiled.
“Let’s go home. There’s still jam on the air.”
And as they walked back down Ketts Heights, past the chapel ruins and into the soft sunset, the biscuit tin shimmered once more.
It was waiting.
And so was time.
Somewhere in the distance a jamline stirred.
Blind Man Makes 