Smudge dangled. Biscuit dangled. They swung together in slow, tragic unison like two ornaments on a very confused Christmas tree.

“Well,” Smudge said at last, “this is new.”

They stared at each other, upside down and certainly perplexed. “Hmm, how do we—”

“Enjoy the truth cookies, did we?” interrupted a voice.

A figure stepped calmly into the centre of the room.

She wore a patchwork coat with frayed edges and a belt with all kinds of gadgets—neatly coiled ropes, mysterious tools, you name it. Her expression was unreadable, but faintly amused.

“Name’s Tether,” she said, resting her hands in her pockets. “It looks like you could use someone who knows their knots.”

Smudge gasped. “You set the cookie trap!”

Biscuit barked once in upside-down outrage.

“I didn’t set anything,” she said. “I just left a bit of rope lying around.” She flicked her chin toward them. “You trapped yourselves.”

She had a point. In fact, she was 100% correct. They had wandered in uninvited and helped themselves to her cookies.

Tether raised an eyebrow. “Honestly. Leave a plate of truth cookies out and you’ll get all sorts in here.”

Truth cookies, Smudge thought. Why does she keep saying that?

Then Smudge felt something odd.

A tickle.

A bubbling in his chest.

A fizzing in his throat.

Oh no.

Not this.

Anything but THIS.

“I… I have a confession,” Smudge blurted uncontrollably.

He clapped his hands over his mouth.

Tether smiled. “Yes?”

Smudge shook his head frantically. He tried to stop himself. He tried to think of something else—clouds, triangles, broccoli, absolutely anything.

But the words burst out of him like fireworks:

“I ONCE ATE THE LAST CHEESE SANDWICH AND BLAMED BISCUIT!”

Biscuit barked in outraged betrayal.

“I’M SORRY!” Smudge wailed. “IT WAS TOO DELICIOUS, AND I PANICKED WHEN MUM GOT ANGRY!”

Biscuit swung upside down in sheer horror.

“And-and-and—” he gasped, trying and failing to stop. “I DON’T REALLY KNOW WHAT I’M DOING MOST OF THE TIME!”

“Oh yes,” Tether purred, “anything else?”

“I WAS SCARED OF THE DARK UNTIL LAST YEAR!”

“I SOMETIMES PRETEND I KNOW WHAT ‘POLYGON’ MEANS!”

“I ONCE TOLD BISCUIT I HAD A PLAN WHEN I DIDN’T!”

Another truth tumbled out.

And another.

And another.

All the little things Smudge kept tucked away.

It took slightly longer for Biscuit’s truth cookie to kick in, but kick in it did.

“WOOF!”

(Translation: “I didn’t sense anything magical earlier—I just smelled cookies!”)

Smudge gasped. “I KNEW IT!”

Tether stepped closer. “That’s it. Let it out. Let it all out…”

And they did.

For what felt like several hours, the truth poured out of both of them like an unstoppable waterfall of confessions. And together—with all the dignity they could manage while dangling upside down—they spoke every truth they’d never said aloud, not knowing that each confession was slowly, quietly… setting them free.

Smudge confessed every tiny thing he’d ever done: the time he said he didn’t know who ate the last slice of cake (it was him), the time he blamed Biscuit for the muddy footprints (also him), the time he pretended not to know where Mum’s favourite pen went (it was still in his pocket), and the time he told Biscuit he didn’t mind him snoring (he did).

Biscuit, under truth-cookie influence, yapped, whined, and barked out his own confessions: the shoes he chewed, the suspicious hole in the garden he absolutely did dig, and the fact that he always knew where Smudge hid his sweets—he just let Smudge think he was being clever.

By the end of it, they hung there like two soggy tea towels, emotionally wrung out but strangely lighter.

Tether nodded, satisfied that there were no more secrets to be kept.

“Now then,” she said. “Why don’t you tell me what you’re doing here?”