Page 41 of Every Eligible Man

That's how many men I've inspected. Eight hundred and forty-seven disappointments, documented in Mira's increasingly unhinged tally:

Boot fits: 89

Glove fits: 34

Both fit: 12

Ferret approved: 0

Cock matched description: 0

Cinder’s patience remaining: nonexistent

Villages searched: 23

Farms searched: 156

Barns personally stormed by Cinder: 7

Livestock disturbed: countless

Gerald's bite count: 94

Marriage proposals from desperate candidates: 412

Marriage proposals accepted: 0

Mira's sobriety: theoretical

Gerald now wears a tiny collar with a tag that reads "PROPERTY OF THE CROWN. BITE AT YOUR OWN RISK."

He bites people anyway.

I'm starting to lose hope.

Days of endless disappointment, of wrong curves and wrong sizes and men who couldn't find a clitoris if I drew them a map with detailed instructions and a starting point.

Where are they?

DAY FOUR: A LEAD

We're passing through a particularly muddy stretch of road when Gerald goes rigid on my shoulder.

Not aggressive. Not bitey. Just... alert.

His tiny nose twitches. His beady eyes fix on something in the distance with an intensity I've never seen before.

"What is it?" I ask.

Gerald chitters, a different sound than his usual chaotic screaming. Almost... hopeful. Almost... recognition.

Something in my chest clenches.

Mira leans out the carriage window, squinting at the road sign we're approaching.

"Grimwald Acres," she reads. "Two miles ahead."

Grimwald.