Journey Beyond the Burrow

by Rina Heisel

Tobin felt his composure slipping like a stone into the creek mud. Had they broken some serpent Rule about tailing Arakni? “Is it a problem if we’re following them?”

  The snake queen lifted her head, taking on a more poised appearance. “Hess, exssplain.”

  The black serpent nodded. “You see, we are curious about the spiders. Over the last few seasons, they’ve grown more”—Hess paused, his head cocked to the side—“aggressive.”

  Aggressive enough to bother snakes? The Arakni were becoming more terrifying by the minute. Tobin cleared his throat. “In rodent-tongue, we call the spiders ‘Arakni.’ And yeah, we’re following them. We want to find where they’re taking their captives.”

  Hacking-sounding whispers of Arakni! Arakni! rippled from the snakes, their angry hisses surrounding them in a chorus—the enemy had a name.

  “Thessse Arakni.” Queen Hesthpa’s voice trembled with rage; her long body twitched. “They sssteal my hatchlingsss!”

  Talia gasped, and her ears drooped. “The Arakni stole our pinkling, too.”

  Queen Hesthpa tilted her chin, looking down at Talia. “You shhall passs sssafely.”

  Tobin’s face flushed with heat. Could they possibly walk out of this?

  The snake queen spoke to Hess in a flurry of hisses and spits. Hess nodded every few moments. When she finished, she touched Hess’s forehead with her chin. Without another glance at the mice, she turned and slithered toward a tangle of fallen branches. Oodles of worm-sized snakes seemed to emerge from under every nearby rock and crevice, gliding alongside the queen. Together they looked like one giant, scale-covered centipede. The remaining snakes slithered off in their own directions.

  All but one.

  Hess’s golden eyes seemed to stare straight through Tobin. “Well, mouse, it seems I’m to accompany you.”

  The very thought made Tobin’s tail twitch. “Wait, you . . . what?”

  “The queen is eager to learn the location of the Arakni lair. She is considering relocating our hibernaculum in order to keep our hatchlings safe. She sees potential in a rodent-reptile partnership to gather this information.”

  Wiley’s ears flattened. “Does this partnership include a Do Not Eat clause?”

  The scales at the corners of Hess’s mouth stretched into a smile. “I will do you no harm. Quite the opposite. I’m an experienced scout, and I can deter some predators—”

  “Oh yeah? My brother’s a scout, too,” Talia interrupted. “And he’s very good.”

  She did not . . .

  “Talia, quiet.” Tobin shook his head.

  “Really, a scout?” said Hess.

  The snake looked him up and down, and Tobin knew Hess wanted him to elaborate. His “skills” were the last thing Tobin wanted to talk about. He’d just led them into snake central! Not quite the behavior of an experienced scout.

  “I’m a weather scout, mostly. I study the different weather cues and smells, and sort of apply it to the Rules of Rodentia. But I’m doing my best to track the Arakni.”

  “Excellent,” said Hess. “I’d like to hear how you three have gotten this far.”

  Tobin nervously grabbed his tail and began squeezing. “Um, sure.”

  But before Tobin could say any more, a black snake with a drooping red tongue slithered out from a bush. Tobin recognized the snake who had trapped them under the tree root, and he suddenly wished he could hide from the snake and its injury.

  When Hess finished talking to the viper, Hess looked back toward the mice. “Come now, Tobin, was that really necessary?”

  Tobin cringed. “I swear, we didn’t realize you snakes just wanted to talk.”

  “Hmm.” Hess’s forehead scales crinkled. “Well, let’s see how bad it is.”

  Tobin craned his neck to see what Hess inspected on the injured viper.

  “Look up,” Hess instructed, and the viper lifted its snout skyward. A small welt poked out on the viper’s chin.

  Tobin took a step back. “I did not do that.”

  Hess exhaled sharply, looking the viper right in the eyes. “Go to the hibernaculum, get a mouthful of yarrow leaves under that tongue. It should stop the bleeding and reduce the swelling. Then, spit out the yarrow and rest your chin on it.”

  The injured snake nodded, then turned its head, baring a lone fang at Tobin before slithering away.

  Tobin raised a paw. “I do not know what happened to his chin,” he repeated.

  “I know.” Hess nodded his head. “It was obviously the spider. Err, the Arakni.” Hess paused. “You do know that an Arakni hunter can stun prey with a jab from its front leg, don’t you?”

  Wiley frowned. “It can what?”

  “Yes,” Hess continued. “There is a sharp tip at the end of an Arakni’s front legs. Like a bee’s stinger, I suppose. It releases a paralytic venom into its victim.

  Wiley looked like he smelled something terrible. “A what-a-lytic?”

  “Par-a-ly-tic,” Hess pronounced slowly. “It renders its smaller-sized prey unable to move. It paralyzes them. For a snake like that one”—Hess jerked his head toward the exiting viper—“it will leave a painful welt.”

  Wiley stared at the big black snake and drew a deep, slow breath. “Okay. That is good to know. Thank you.”

  “So, this partnership—” Hess began.

  Wiley eyed Tobin. “Can we talk?”

  Tobin chewed his lip. Could he just excuse himself for a chat? He almost laughed—almost. In his wildest dreams, this situation was still impossible. And yet, here they were.

  “Hess.” Tobin looked up. “Could we have a moment? Just to gather our thoughts?”

  Gather our thoughts? Tobin cringed. Now I sound like an Eldermouse.

  Hess cocked his head, his tongue flicking in and out a few times before finally saying, “I suppose.” The snake slithered no more than a hare-leap away and coiled up, his eyes always fixed on the mice.

  Wiley spoke in a hushed voice. “So, clearly these snakes aren’t big fans of the spiders, either. But travel with one? I don’t know.”

  Talia scratched her head. “I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but I think traveling with a snake could have some perks. He can protect us, and anyway, Hess seems sort of nice?”

  “Of course he’s going to come off that way,” Wiley said, eyes rolling. “I’ve played a lot of jokes on my brother, and most of them start with me smooth-talking him.”

  Tobin gave his tail a final squeeze. “Exactly,” he whispered. “We need to be careful. Once Hess gets whatever he needs from us . . .” Tobin shook his head. “You just never know.”

  Wiley nodded. “If we ever get too suspicious, we’ll bolt. There are ways to ditch a snake, even a big one.”

  “Especially a big one,” Tobin agreed. He looked up into a purple-tinged sky. It had gotten late, and a lone star shone on the horizon. “The Nightbreak Star’s already out. We can talk to Hess more on the way. Maybe get a better feel for him.”

  Wiley and Talia each silently nodded their agreement. It wasn’t like they had a lot of choice.

  They would have to partner with a serpent.

  “Okay, Hess,” Tobin called. “We’re ready to head out.”

  The serpent uncoiled and swerved up beside them. “Now perhaps you can fill me in on the beginning of your journey.”

  “Yeah, sure,” Tobin answered. As the snake began to slither onto the Arakni trail, Tobin glanced at the side of Hess’s head. Where would the snake’s ear hole be? Seeing none, he just began talking, telling the story of their journey thus far. Hess guided them deeper into the woods, flicking his scent-sensitive tongue and lifting his head to nod every few moments, assuring Tobin he was actually listening.

  Eventually the snake had a question. “So, tell me about these Rules of Rodentia.”

  Tobin’s forehead scrunched. He forgot for a moment he’d mentioned them to Hess. “Well, I guess I’ve never really explained them before. We are all just taught growing up to follow the Rules. The Eldermice pas
s them on to us. They’re like a survival guide for rodents.”

  “Except,” Wiley piped up from behind, “Tobin’s a whiz with the Rules. He’s as good as any Eldermouse. It’s like the right Rule for every occasion always just pops into his head.”

  Hess stopped slithering. “Really?”

  Tobin’s ears burned. How must this sound to a snake? “I don’t know. I just really like practicing them, I guess.”

  “More than that.” Talia hopped into the conversation. “Tobin hears a Rule, and it’s like stuck in his brain. It’s why Tobin likes to stay busy. He said some days the Rules jump around in his skull so hard it’s like a chick trying to break out of its shell.”

  Tobin stopped, sitting up on his haunches. “I told that to Dad!”

  Talia’s nose crinkled. “I know. I heard you guys talking in the den. I didn’t know it was supposed to be some secret thing.”

  Hess raised his chin. “Tobin, it sounds like you have a gift, and that’s fascinating. This will be an interesting partnership, indeed.”

  Hess turned and continued his slither. Wiley sat up and wiggled his shoulders. Using his best Eldermouse voice, he chimed in, “Indeed, good fellow. Indeed.”

  Tobin smiled, glad for his friend’s humor to relieve his complete and total embarrassment.

  Talia.

  Tobin glared at his sister. “Please don’t tell anyone else that chick-in-egg thing, got it?”

  “Fine, but I don’t know why you’re so embarrassed.” Talia dramatically clasped her paws together. “Oh no, poor Tobin! He has a gift, and the Eldermice always talk about how wonderful he is.” She spun on her heels and trotted up alongside Hess’s head.

  Tobin snapped his gaze to Wiley. “What the heck was that?”

  Wiley scratched behind his ear as he thought. “I think, maybe, your sister was trying to compliment you, but it sort of veered into awkward territory.”

  “Just because nothing ever embarrasses her.” Tobin shook his head. “Whatever. Let’s just hope she sticks to talking about herself instead.”

  Wiley nodded, and the pair fell in behind Talia, who was happily chatting with Hess about the process of snake-skin shedding.

  Traveling snake-style was very different. Hess moved like a whisper in the grass. The serpent didn’t scurry across the forest floor; he wove across it, slithering in curves and making a zigzagging path. Trying to run alongside him was tricky. Hess’s head veered back forth. He’d stop suddenly, shoveling his snout around in the forest litter, searching for scents. Then he’d look up and take off again. Each time they passed a shrub, Tobin fought his urge to dive for cover.

  Hess knew the dangers of this stretch of forest, reminding Tobin of how he knew the hazards surrounding the Great Burrow. Hess moved them safely around a badger den and had them crawl beneath a leafy vine that stretched across the territory of a nesting hawk.

  When they approached a small scattering of rocks, Hess ordered them to stay put beneath a low-hanging pine branch.

  “What’s he doing?” Wiley whispered.

  Tobin shrugged. He watched the snake root around the base of the rock pile, then slither over its top. Hess’s probing snout found a gap in the stones, and he disappeared inside.

  Talia shook her head. “I hope there’s nothing in there.”

  Tobin couldn’t tell if she was worried for Hess’s safety or for some poor creature that was about to get ambushed.

  Soon enough, Hess emerged from a slit between the stones and ground and jerked his head, beckoning the mice to come over.

  Setting all mouse sense aside, Tobin ran toward the snake.

  “I’ve found a place we can rest for the night,” Hess said.

  “We’re stopping?” said Tobin.

  Hess nodded. “The hour of the owls and bobcats is near. The best protection I can provide is to hide you.”

  “But our pinkling needs us now,” said Talia. “We can’t leave it with those spiders all night!”

  A rustle in the treetops sent chills down Tobin’s spine. Hess coiled, baring his fangs at the unseen creature above.

  Tobin nudged his sister. “Go inside. It’s not safe out here.”

  “But our pinkling is alone,” Talia cried, “and probably cold and scared, and needs us.”

  Hess spoke to her, his gaze never leaving the treetop. “Your pinkling needs you to live through the night.”

  Hopping in front of her, Tobin spoke to Talia nose to nose. “Tal, there’s something in that tree, and we need to get our tails inside.”

  Tears began to rim her eyes, but she turned and scurried between the stones.

  Tobin followed, and Wiley and Hess slipped in after them. The interior of the rock pile was roomier than Tobin expected, probably big enough for a family of weasels.

  Talia wedged herself into a crook, looking miserable. Her ears sagged. Even her whiskers drooped.

  Hess circled around, rubbing his snout along the opening. Tobin smelled the musty scent of snake seep from Hess’s glands. “This should give pause to any predators sniffing around.”

  Wiley’s eyelids fluttered and he coughed. “I’ll say.”

  The snake odor hit Tobin’s nose like musk and sour fruit. He swiped his paw over his muzzle. “Whoa.”

  If Talia smelled it, she didn’t show it. She looked down at the floor, ignoring all the stares floating in her direction. After the way he spoke, Tobin knew he needed to say something to her. And it’d better be nice. He walked over and sat beside her.

  “Tal,” he said. “I know you’re worried about the pinkling. I am, too, but I’m also worried about you. And Wiley.”

  Talia sniffed. Her eyes were still fixed on the floor.

  Tobin continued. “Hess knows these woods the best and I think we need to trust him. That noise in the trees could have been an owl or a lynx.”

  Talia finally raised her head, defiance still glinting in her eyes. “Oh? It also could’ve just been a squirrel flicking a flea off its tail.”

  His own laugh caught Tobin unprepared; it filled the tiny cavern, followed by Wiley’s chuckling.

  Talia’s cheeks scrunched as she fought a smile. “Well, it could have!”

  Wiley rose up onto his hind legs, his front claws outstretched. “But what if it was a rabid squirrel, Tal? Heeere, little mouseling.”

  The mice laughed harder, and Tobin looked over to Hess. The big snake seemed amused at their spectacle, his head cocked to the side.

  The smile disappeared from Talia’s face when she met Hess’s gaze. “Can you promise our pinkling will be all right tomorrow?”

  Hess regarded her for a moment before he spoke. “Remember, Talia, the spiders are only harvesting food right now, not eating it. I believe we could reach the lair by midday tomorrow.”

  Tobin swallowed the lump that suddenly sprang up in his throat. The Arakni lair. How many spiders lived in a lair? At least they traveled with a weapon now—a snake strong enough to pummel spiders with a flick of his head. If Hess kept his word, that is.

  Either way, Hess’s comment seemed to make Talia feel a little better. She curled up beside Tobin and shut her eyes. “Tobin,” she whispered. “Mom and Dad are okay, right? I mean, the spider grabbed our pinkling, but it couldn’t hurt Mom and Dad. Could it?”

  Tobin settled in beside her. He’d avoided thinking about their parents since they’d crossed the tree bridge, only thinking on them enough to formulate a loose theory. “I’m sure they’re fine, Tal. I think Mom was probably resting and the spider snuck up and snatched the pinkling somehow. I’m sure they’ll tell us when we get home.”

  “That makes sense.” She wrapped her tail snugly around her body.

  Tobin rested his head on his paws. He peeked up at the snake on guard duty. He wondered if Hess would sleep, or watch them all night with those unblinking, golden eyes. As he drifted off to sleep, he realized drowsily he never thought he’d be grateful for a snake’s company.

  Eleven

  TOBIN COULD HAVE SWORN
he’d just fallen asleep when Talia’s twitching paws poked him awake. He cracked his eyelids open. The first beams of sunlight were pushing through tiny gaps in the rocky fortress, spreading a wave of warmth across his chilly nose and paws. Talia was still sleeping curled next to him; Wiley beside her. Hess sat coiled, gazing in the direction of the only crevice big enough for a possible invader. Had he sat like that all night? Even if they didn’t have eyelids, snakes had to sleep sometime.

  Tobin rose, trying not to disturb the others. He stretched his hind legs just as a yawn escaped him. Hess’s glossy eyes flickered to life. Though it was hard to read the reptile’s face, Tobin thought his new travel companion looked glad someone else was up.

  With a steadying breath, Tobin approached their serpent guide and spoke in a hushed voice. “Well, if you were going to eat us, you probably would have last night.”

  Hess smiled. “You’re right. But I pledged to keep you safe.”

  A thousand questions tumbled in Tobin’s mind, and maybe because he was still groggy, one managed to tumble right out. “But do you want to eat us?”

  Hess’s eyes stretched wide. “It’s much harder to eat someone after you’ve been formally introduced, Tobin.”

  “Right. Sorry.” Tobin cringed. “I don’t introduce myself to grubs before chowtime, either.”

  Hess tilted his head. “I suppose I’m the first snake you’ve ever talked to. Naturally you’ll have questions.”

  Tobin nodded. “I’ll try not to make them stupid ones.”

  Hess made a coughing, hissy sound—a laugh? “It’s all right, Tobin. But may I ask you a question?”

  “Sure,” Tobin answered.

  “What do your Rules of Rodentia say about leading rescue missions to save pinklings?”

  “Oh.” Tobin scratched his head. “Well, there’s not really anything, specifically, about that.” Quite the opposite, in fact.

  “I thought maybe not,” said Hess.

  “But . . .” Tobin stared at the ground, searching for the answer. “Wiley always says the Rules are open for interpretation.” Tobin glanced at his friend, still sleeping beside Talia. “I think looking out for the good of the colony also means looking out for my mom.”