“They have no idea what’s coming. But neither does Red. This is going to be fun to watch.”

The raccoons exchanged nervous glances. The weasel whispered, “But who’s the target?”

Flick scribbled: “Big score. Possibly delusional.”

“We’ve been small-time,” Vernon said, spitting a toothpick into the creek. “Knocking over bird feeders. Stealing picnic baskets. But that ends tonight. We’re going to pull the biggest score this forest has ever seen.”