Poppy and Ereth (9 page)

T
HE BRANCH
on the Bannock Hill hazelnut tree continued to burn, the flame moving steadily until it reached the dry trunk of the tree. Fed by more fuel, the fire burned brighter and hotter. It burned up, and it burned down. As it burned, a thin ribbon of dark smoke rose into the sky.

The fire soon reached the ground, setting aflame the brittle dry grasses and dead leaves that lay close by.

Before long, the entire crown of Bannock Hill was smoldering, creating a dark cloud of smoke and making the air even hazier than it already had been.

When a gentle burst of wind touched the hilltop, the whole summit exploded into flames. As the fire's intensity increased, it began to spread down the hill in the direction of Tar Road and the wooden bridge over Glitter Creek.

Beyond the creek lay Dimwood Forest.

E
RETH CROUCHED
in the deepest, darkest part of his hollow log. Now and again he gnawed noisily on an old, dry twig. Finding it tasteless, he stopped often only to start again when he could think of nothing else to do.

“I suppose it has to be me who plans Poppy's funeral,” he grumbled. “Nobody else offered. Nobody else could. How typical. They leave everything to me. What would Dimwood Forest be without me? Trees!”

The porcupine closed his eyes, shifted his prickly bulk, and twitched his tail until his quills rattled.

“What's important,” he declared, “is that it be a dignified funeral. All about Poppy. So everyone will learn what a wonderful creature she was. Nobody like her in the whole forest. No one. Not even…me.”

He closed his eyes and tried to remember how—it
seemed so long ago—he had first met Poppy. Ah, yes! It was a fox, named Bounder, who had chased her into his log. “Funny how that happened,” Ereth mused. “Silly mouse! Poppy thought I was going to eat her. As if I'd eat meat. Yuck! Meat is disgusting.”

Then Ereth thought about all the things he should have said to Poppy when she was alive. “There never was any time,” he whispered. “How could I say the things I should have said if she didn't let me say them? She was always so busy. I never expected she would just fly off the way she did. Not bothering to say good-bye. Just…poof! Gone! Not very polite.”

The more Ereth thought about Poppy, the more agitated he became until, unable to stay still, he heaved himself up and waddled out of his log. “I mustn't think about her anymore,” he said. “It's making me crazy. Anyway, it's about time I started to think of myself.”

Even so, he was unable to keep himself from trudging up to Poppy's snag, staring at it bleakly, shaking his head in dismay, and then turning to lumber into the woods.

As Ereth went along, he grumbled about his aching muscles, bad food, the lack of salt, and the air, which was hot, thick as glue and just as sticky. He felt heavy, and itchy.

Surely this was the hottest day of all, so hot even the forest insects were silent. He was convinced that he was the
sole creature moving, for the only sounds he heard were his own footsteps on the parched grass. The sound—scratchy and crunchy—irritated him.

“With Poppy gone, nothing is good!” he muttered. “If I could, I'd march right out of the world. But where would I go?”

Ereth continued on, grumbling and grunting, not caring where he was going, knowing only that he was heading into the deep woods, away from his home, away from everyone.

He reached a place where the trees grew so close even
the air seemed to be made of shadows. He looked about. Nothing moved. Nothing stirred. “I'm all alone,” he whispered. “Utterly alone.”

As he gazed forlornly about, he noticed a large boulder sticking out of the ground. One side of it glistened, sparkled almost. Curious, Ereth drew nearer and saw that embedded in the large stone was a piece of bright mica. He started to turn, only to catch a glimpse of his reflection there.

Ereth rarely looked at himself. It happened occasionally when he had to bend down to take a drink from a pond or stream. In those moments, he did not like what he saw and quickly shut his eyes.

This time he stared hard at the image of his face as if searching for something. “You,” he said, “are
not
handsome. You are prickly! Ugly! Grumpy! Not friendly!”

He gulped down a rasping breath and then suddenly bellowed, “Erethizon Dorsatum, you are a self-centered and conceited porcupine! You should be ashamed of yourself, feeling angry because of Poppy. Think how she feels being dead!” Tears trickled down his blunt face.

He shifted his head in various directions, all but crossing his eyes to see himself. Then he moved his body around, trying to get a glimpse of his whole self. Finally, he pressed his nose flat against the mica, so that his eyes stared into
their own reflection. “You,” he said, as if addressing a stranger, “are a porcupine. An
old porcupine
. A
very
old porcupine. An antique porcupine. A prehistoric porcupine! A fossil porcupine. But what,” he asked the image, “have you done with your long life?”

When no answer came from the stone, he supplied it himself. “Not much,” he said.

“Have you done
anything
good?” he demanded. “Did you build anything? Solve any problem? Make anyone happy? Teach anyone anything?

“Erethizon Dorsatum!” he shouted. “You have done nothing with your life!”

He stood still, gazing at himself, panting with emotion.

“The only good thing you've done is love Poppy,” he gasped. “And now that she's gone, what do you intend to do with what's left of this empty life of yours? Just tell me
that
, Mr. Ereth Dorsatum!

“You,” he said, accusing his image, “were going to learn to…to…smile. Like Poppy always did. Fine!
That
will be your farewell gift to her. From now on you will…smile! Like Poppy!”

Ereth stepped back so he could see his whole face. “Did you hear me? Smile!” Peering at the mica, he tried to smile, but the creature that looked back at him only grinned hideously.

“You look like a belching bug,” he cried. “You'll have to do better than that!” He twitched his lips, first one way and then another. He pushed a paw into his mouth and pulled up one corner of his lips and then the other. Desperate, he snatched up a twig and stuck it in his mouth, pulled it out and up so as to create a smile.

“If Poppy were here,” he cried, “she could have taught me to smile. She would have done it well, too! Well, I'm not budging until I teach myself!”

The porcupine stood in front of his reflection, struggling to smile. At last he sighed. “Smiling is too hard!” he yelled. “I should have started a long time ago.”

P
OPPY CERTAINLY KNEW
foxes ate mice. When she had met Bounder during her first visit to Dimwood Forest, he had tried to catch her but had succeeded only in chasing her into Ereth's smelly log. That was when she first met Ereth. The porcupine drove the fox away. She smiled at the thought. And here—after all that time—was the same fox! She wished Ereth were with her now. Her smile faded.

Poppy wondered if Bounder would remember her. Not that it mattered. If she was going to get out of the cave, she had to get past him.

She stayed where she was, occasionally peeking around the tunnel bend to study the fox. All the while Bounder remained asleep, barely stirring, taking deep, long, and sleepy breaths.

Poppy tried to recall what she knew about foxes' habits: they were fast, and clever, and did most of their hunting at night. That meant she would have to be very patient, and hope that when the day was over Bounder would get up and leave. Of course, this place could be his main den. Considering the bones, Poppy rather suspected it was. If he had just eaten—Poppy glanced at the bones again—and his belly was full, he might not venture away for
days
.

The warm air coming from the tunnel entryway told Poppy the heat wave had not broken. That could be another reason Bounder might stay put: the tunnel would be a lot cooler than out beneath the sun.

Waiting, Poppy ruefully recalled that a short while ago she wanted things to change. Now, here she was desiring nothing more than to return home and have things exactly as they were.
Be patient!
Poppy chided herself, even as she reminded herself that she had little choice.

Still, Poppy acknowledged that flying with Luci, seeing the bat cave, and meeting all those bats had been a wonderful experience. To pass the time, she mused about the possibility of another trip, going elsewhere, doing something completely new. Except next time—if there was a next time—she would take someone along, like Spruce.

The growling of her empty stomach interrupted her thoughts. Her anxiety returned.
Goodness
, she thought,
I
never used to be impatient. I suppose I just want to make the most of the time I have.

She peeked around the bend again at the curled-up fox. He was still asleep—or so it seemed.

Poppy studied Bounder's position. Though he was lying across the entryway—blocking it—she noticed that there was more open space in front of him than behind. Was that on purpose? Then she saw—not far from the fox's nose—a slab of rock leaning against the wall. Moreover, the rock's slant made a gap between the rock and the tunnel wall. That gap appeared just big enough for her to crawl behind. Poppy decided she could use the rock as a shield—if she could get behind it.

Without actually deciding to do so, Poppy knew she was getting ready to sneak past the fox.

Taking minute steps, Poppy slipped around the bend. Crouching very low, she crept along where the tunnel wall met the floor, inching forward in the direction of the entryway—and Bounder.

Every few steps she paused and studied the fox. The closer she came, the bigger he seemed. She glanced at the bone bits and shuddered.
Don't go any more!
an inner voice kept telling her. But another part told her she was safe because the fox was asleep and lay still except for the tip of
his tail, which twitched ever so slightly.

She halted.
Was that tail telling her something? Was Bounder setting a trap? Was he just pretending to sleep?

Poppy had to catch her breath. When the fox's tail stopped twitching, she inched forward, placing each foot slowly, deliberately down. She breathed as softly as possible. All the while she kept her eyes fixed on Bounder.

The fox's ears flicked. Poppy froze. She studied the leaning rock. And that gap. It was only a few feet away. Poppy decided it would be wise to rest behind the stone, in the gap, before making a final dash to the open air.

When the fox's movement ceased, Poppy continued on.

Bounder snorted. Again Poppy stopped. Her heart pounded. She held her breath. She was so close to the rock. When the fox's sounds subsided, Poppy edged forward again.

The leaning stone—and the protective gap—were no more than a foot away. Telling herself she
must
leap forward—
now
—Poppy tensed her leg muscles. She must not miss the gap!

At the last moment she darted a glance at Bounder. The fox's eyes were wide-open and he was staring right at her. He was grinning hideously, fangs exposed.

With a gasp, Poppy hurled herself toward the rock. She was not fast enough. Bounder slapped a paw down, blocking her way.

“Got you, mouse!” he bayed gleefully. “Got you at last!”