by Rina Heisel
A vein on Hubbart’s forehead throbbed so hard Tobin saw it pounding. Probably best to speak extra politely. “Please, Hubbart, the snakes used us to find the spiders. We didn’t know! We’re sorry they followed us here, but—”
“But what?” the cross woodchuck snarled. “Aye, the serpents had a mission on their minds, or they’d have hunted my family. But that doesn’t make what you did all right. Don’t even think about using my tunnels again. No way, no how!”
“Enough!” Hess growled. He slithered forward, raising his head to the height of the perched woodchuck. He stared at Hubbart eye to eye. “We haven’t time for this. The snakes will be returning soon.”
Hubbart’s nose crinkled. He batted a pebble with his paw. “I knew it! I knew those infernal serpents would be back, shovin’ and a-bullying—”
Hess nodded impatiently. “Yes, they will. Your warren provides the simplest, safest path of descent back into the gorge.”
Hubbart’s chest puffed, his bottom lip stuck out in a scowl.
Hess continued. “These mice knew nothing of the snakes’ plan. Nothing. Look for yourself. They’re carrying the very pinkling they sought to rescue.”
Hubbart flicked his gaze past Hess, and Talia raised the bundle. The woodchuck’s eyes softened for a moment, but when he looked back to Hess, Hubbart’s eyes hardened to black stones. “But you, snake. What of your role in this?”
“I didn’t know the snakes were following us until it was too late.”
Hubbart rolled his eyes. Hess’s lips curled back and he continued. “Look, I don’t care if you believe me or not. I’m not asking you for anything. But the mice—please, let the mice hide deep in your warren until the snakes pass back through.”
Tobin’s ear twitched. Did he hear that right? “What about you, Hess? Where are you going to be?”
“I’ll wait out here.”
Alone? The thought sent a shiver down Tobin’s spine. “No, that doesn’t seem safe.”
“It’s the best way,” Hess answered before looking back to Hubbart. “I’ll try and dissuade the snakes from causing you and your family any harm.”
Hubbart rested his cheek on a curled paw. “Oh, come on. Yer a big fella, but why would a whole slew of hungry snakes abide by you?”
“I do have some pull with their queen,” said Hess. “And, I could offer them a helpful bit of information.”
Hubbart scrunched his forehead. “Like what?”
“You know this territory. Tell me the best way for the snakes to travel back up the other side. I’ll guide the snakes back across the gorge myself, away from your den, on the condition that they leave you all alone.”
“Interesting.” Hubbart rubbed his chin.
Talia leaped in front Hess. “I don’t think so! What if the snakes don’t agree to your terms? Remember disobeying your mother? And not being Favored anymore?”
Hubbart rubbed his brow. “I hate to say it, but the lass is right. There’s nooks in the den perfect for ambushing no-good reptiles. If those snakes decide to come in the den looking for a meal, we’d hold ’em off in the tunnels far easier than you gettin’ swarmed out here, all by yer lonesome.”
Hess shook his head slowly. “No. No more snakes in your den. I need to do this. I know I have some allies among these snakes—friends, even. I’ll try getting them across, and if all goes well, I’ll be waiting for you in the gorge tomorrow morning.”
“No—” Tobin started, but Hubbart cut him off.
“Agreed, snake.” The woodchuck hopped from down the stone. “I’ll show ya an easy path for yer brethren to slither up the other side. Just don’t let any of the vermin inside me home.”
“So now we’re spending the night?” Wiley asked.
Hess nodded. “I don’t know how long the snakes will linger. And Tobin needs to rest his leg, and you should put some yarrow on that eye. And everyone needs sleep.” Hess turned and followed Hubbart to the ridge of the gorge.
Tobin threw his paws in the air. “Don’t we get a say in this?”
“Ahem!”
Tobin spun around. Another woodchuck with curiously long eyelashes peeked at the mice from beneath the slab. “So yer the mice that led that army of snakes through my home?”
Talia’s whiskers twitched. “That’s not exactly what—”
“Never mind. I heard yer whole chat out here. Seems me husband has struck another deal.” The woodchuck raised a brow. “My name’s Nuna. Now, let’s get you inside and hope yer serpent friend is good for his word.”
“He is.” Tobin looked over his shoulder. Hubbart was pointing out landmarks to Hess near the ridge. Can we really leave him out here?
Nuna clucked her tongue. “No dallying now. I bet that pinkling’s famished, the poor dear.”
Tobin looked at the little webbed bundle. “You’re right.”
Nuna nodded and ducked into the tunnel, raising her voice for the mice to hear. “We’ll head to the nursery, plenty of milk and turnips. And yarrow for you two scrappers.”
Talia followed behind her, then Wiley. Tobin glanced back one last time. “See you in the morning,” he said under his breath to Hess, who was still intently listening to Hubbart. Tobin turned and followed his friends into the labyrinth of tunnels.
Hubbart had called it the “belly o’ the den.” It felt that way. Ascending, descending, curving—like winding through the hillside’s intestines. They wove around tree roots and shards of rock. On most days, Tobin felt more relaxed in tunnels, tucked safely away from the world. But now his mind buzzed with too much worry. He was safe from the outside dangers and elements, but Hess wasn’t.
“Tut, tut, keep up, little mouse. This teeny babe needs to eat,” Nuna chided him.
His worrying interfered with his hobbling and he’d fallen behind. Hess knows what he’s doing, Tobin assured himself and quickened his hop-stepping, earning a sympathetic look from Talia.
The snake briefly slipped from Tobin’s mind once Nuna led them to a cavernous room. It was lit by a single beam of bluish light, no thicker than a walnut. It pierced the darkness from the peak of the room.
Tobin’s jaw dropped. “How’d you get light down here?” He cocked an ear and stepped toward the beam. “We’ve got to be three cattail reeds deep. And this hole—it’s so narrow.” He craned his neck, squinting in the light. “You couldn’t have dug this.”
“An industrious little mole dug it years ago.” Nuna shuffled over beside him. “The mole’s long gone, so every now ’n’ again the kids’ll catch a digger beetle and toss it up there. The little buggers scuttle up and out, keeping the light shaft clear for us.”
Tobin nodded. “Great idea.”
From behind, an unfamiliar voice chimed, “Thanks.”
Tobin turned, blinking away the blue haze. Seven pairs of dark eyes materialized from the stubbly brown wall. The woodchuck litter!
“Oh.” Tobin stepped back. “Sorry, I didn’t see you.”
The sandy-colored woodchucks smiled and chattered, looking at each other approvingly. One sat back on his haunches. “That’s because we blended into the wall. It’s a trick.”
Another kit nodded. “Yup, Dad calls it cam-o-fla-shing.” More giggles.
“Can you do it again?” Talia asked.
An echo of “Sure, sure!” bubbled down the line of little kits. Tobin realized the kits only looked little because they were miniature versions of Hubbart and Nuna. They were already twice Tobin’s size.
Nuna clucked her tongue, speaking to the kits on her right. “After ya show off yer tricks, Jax, Milly, and Sal—please pull out a turnip and some yarrow mash for our guests.” The kits nodded, then Nuna addressed those on her left. “Luc, Giddy, Cape, and Bebby—show the mice where they can hunker down for the night.”
They nodded in unison, and Nuna looked to Talia. The mother woodchuck smiled, her long eyelashes curling into her forehead. “Why don’t you let me tend to the pinkling a while, dear?”
The gentleness of Nuna�
�s voice reminded Tobin of his own mom—he could only imagine how frightened she was at this point. Now a boulder of worry for his mom plunked down alongside his concern for Hess.
Talia gave the bundle a nuzzle, then handed the baby to Nuna. When Talia turned around, the kits had frozen themselves to the wall. Eyes closed, their speckled fur blended flawlessly.
Talia clapped her paws. “That’s amazing!”
Seven sets of eyes popped open. Three kits tumbled away to fetch a turnip. The other four showed them where to sleep. A small alcove dug into the wall would fit three mice perfectly. “We used to put acorns in there,” one of the kits explained—maybe Bebby?
When the turnip arrived, they ate and chatted. Talia and Wiley did most of the talking. The kits asked Talia if they could keep her, promising they would take great care of her. She politely said no, but promised to visit.
Nuna returned with the pinkling cradled in one front arm. There was a hole in webbing, and the pinkling’s wrinkly little face showed through.
Talia gasped, and Wiley and Tobin grinned as they scurried to see the newborn.
“I hope ya don’t mind,” Nuna said softly, “but I had to peel away a little web to nurse the babe. He’s quite comfortable now, but I’m sure he’d rather sleep cozied up with you all.”
Tobin’s heart skipped a beat. “Did you say ‘he’?”
Nuna smiled, again losing half her lashes in her forehead. “Yes, sweetie. A baby boy.”
“Told ya.” Wiley nudged Talia.
“I don’t care, he’s perfect!” she squealed, reaching up for the bundle. Nuna placed the pinkling in Talia’s arms and then ordered the onlooking kits to bed. They disappeared down a tunnel so cleverly carved into a corner Tobin hadn’t noticed it. The woodchucks really were masters of camouflage.
Tobin raised his paws for a turn holding his baby brother, but Nuna shook her head. “You need rest most of all.” She nudged them toward the former acorn bin. “Remember, a good night’s rest isn’t just a treat—it keeps you alert upon your feet.”
“Our mom says that, too,” Talia said before squeaking out a yawn.
“Mom.” The word slipped from Tobin’s mouth.
Wiley patted him on the back. “One more night, Tobin. Then she’ll be the happiest mouse this side of the moon.”
“Yeah, I know,” Tobin answered, but the fuzz of exhaustion clouded his brain. A tummy full of turnips and the coziness of the alcove made a perfect recipe for sleep. Tobin stumbled into a corner and plopped down. He vaguely felt Nuna pressing yarrow mash over his injured hip. As he drifted off to sleep, his last fleeting thoughts were of a green-striped snake defending a clutch of rodents against an army of serpents.
Twenty-Three
TOBIN DIDN’T DREAM, WHICH was just fine. Yesterday’s memories didn’t really lend themselves to pleasant dreams, anyway. So when a soft paw shook him from his sleep, he felt surprisingly well rested.
Talia called softly, “Time to get up.”
Tobin cracked open an eye. Just beyond his sister he saw a very merry woodchuck peeking into the alcove. “Ah, good mornin’! We were scared you were hibernating.”
Tobin wiped a paw over his eyes and yawned. “Hey, Hubbart.”
“Glad you all got a good rest. Now it’s midmorning and the snake wants you home by dusk, so time to move.”
A small jolt of panic zapped Tobin’s sleepiness to pieces. “Hess!”
“Is fine,” Nuna called from behind Hubbart. “Just waiting on you sleepyheads. I’ve got your pinkling here warm and fed, so grab a bite of turnip and you’ll be ready to go.”
Tobin crawled from the alcove into the large chamber room. Nuna held the baby, letting the kits say goodbye and look at the pinkling one last time.
Hess is safe. The pinkling is safe. Tobin sighed a breath of relief. “Thank you, Hubbart. And Nuna, for everything.”
Hubbart clapped his paws. “Oh, come now. We’re happy to help. Now, follow me. I’ll take ya to yer serpent-in-waitin’.”
“Thanks again,” echoed Talia and Wiley, waving to Nuna and the kits.
Hubbart ducked into a tunnel, and the mice scampered after him. Tobin tested his injured leg as they followed, putting more and more weight on it until he found a good balance. Still a little sore—but at least he didn’t have to hop on three legs all day.
Finally, Hubbart led them to the very hole they’d first used to enter his den. Hess sat curled on the gorge floor below.
“All righty, intrepid travelers,” Hubbart began. “Look across the gorge. See that reddish rock there?”
Tobin nodded.
“That’s where yer headed. All the serpents been using that shelf of rock to slither up and out.” Hubbart raised a paw. “Swiftly and safely, be on your way.”
Tobin and Talia raised a paw, and Wiley—who held the baby—raised his chin as they recited the farewell. “Swiftly and safely, till another day.”
Hubbart nodded brusquely, a smile tugging at his cheeks. “Best o’ luck, mice.” The woodchuck shuffled a few steps deep into the tunnel before looking back. “Oh, if ya do ever return, visit me through topside tunnels. I’m caving this blasted passageway shut today.”
Wiley chuckled. “I can’t blame you.”
Smiling, Tobin peered into the gorge, his ears pricked forward. “Hey, Hess!”
The serpent looked up, and Tobin gasped.
A purple welt the size of a walnut marred Hess’s cheek. The snake’s long sides blossomed with scratches.
“Oh no.” Tobin scrambled down the ridge. Talia was on his heels, but Wiley lagged behind, using more caution while carrying the pinkling.
Hess tried to smile as they approached. He tried, but only half his face moved.
Tobin’s throat went dry. “But Hubbart said you were okay.”
“I am,” Hess answered through a lopsided mouth. “I’m alive.”
Wiley shielded the pinkling’s eyes with a paw, which really wasn’t necessary since the baby’s eyes weren’t open yet. “What happened?”
“There was some disagreement on the issue of using Hubbart’s tunnels to reach the floor of the gorge. Or, as I saw it, to reach you all for a snack.”
Tobin’s eyes traced Hess’s battle wounds. His stomach felt queasy. “So, while we were inside sleeping, you were out here alone, fighting for your life.”
“Not alone.” Hess directed his gaze at the reddish shelf of rocks. Behind clumps of roots and bramble, a dozen snakes peeked out. Sleek heads of copper, violet, green—some with stripes, some bodies blotched with the colors of the forest—all stared down at them.
Talia leaned close to Hess for protection. “Oh my.”
“Don’t be afraid.” Hess spoke softly. “They’re here to escort us. They, like me, believe you all deserve to return home safely.”
Tobin drew a shaky breath. “So you’re saying there was a massive snake brawl out here last night?”
Hess grinned crookedly. “Well, not the biggest snake brawl I’ve ever seen. But it was contentious—those snakes were hungry, after all. Honestly, the fight was just getting going when my mother arrived. Those wanting to invade Hubbart’s tunnels were sent on their way—by order of the queen.”
“Huh.” Wiley nodded slowly, eyes shifting from roosted snake to snake. “So Tal was right. Despite everything, you’re still a Favored Child with your mom.” Wiley smiled lopsidedly, his grin not faring much better than Hess’s with a still-swollen cheek.
Hess drew a deep breath, exhaling slowly. “I suppose, in some way, I must still amuse her.”
“I knew it.” Talia sat up proudly. “But no matter what your mom decreed, if it’s all the same to you, Hess, you’re the only snake I’ll be running alongside.”
“Agreed.” Hess raised his head toward the new serpent lookouts. He opened his jaws and a low, rumbling hiss washed across the canyon floor. The waiting snakes called back. A chorus of hisses echoed off the walls.
The fur spiked around Wiley’s shoulders. �
�I bet there’s a hundred critters that just decided to stay home today.”
The lookout snakes scattered, disappearing into the forest above. Hess slithered toward the reddish stepping-stones. “Let’s go.”
The rock shelf made for an easy climb, even for Wiley, who continued to carry the pinkling. Once they stepped on the fringe of the forest, a rustle in the brush caught their attention. A violet-colored snake slithered out and upon seeing them, nodded and disappeared back into the thicket.
Hess turned his head to say something to the mice, but winced when the skin scrunched around the purple welt on his face. “On second thought, Talia, why don’t you take the pinkling and climb aboard.”
Talia looked at Tobin, worry plain on her face. “Are you sure?”
Hess nodded. “I can haul one mouseling and a pinkling. Tobin and Wiley can lead the way. Then I’m only keeping two mice in my sights, not four.”
Hess’s words were quick. The vibration in his voice, gone. Tobin didn’t know if the others noticed, but he knew Hess was struggling. “Climb up, Tal. Carefully. Wiley will hand you the pinkling.”
“Okay.” She delicately climbed up Hess’s side.
Wiley handed her the pinkling and the little bundle squealed. “We’ve got a happy baby today. A night at Nuna’s and now I think the pinkling knows we’re close to home.”
“Just lead the way, and we’ll arrive by sundown,” said Hess.
“You’ve got it.” Tobin padded into the forest. He slipped past familiar landmarks: the rock pile they’d slept inside that first night, the patch of forest with the huge orange toadstools. One thing was certain, it was easier moving around the woods when you were flanked by a small army of snakes.
That became Tobin and Wiley’s game: snake spotting. Wiley tried “spotting” Hess, but they decided that didn’t count. Most snakes were probably vines or branches, but it passed the time as they maneuvered around clumps of pine needles and leaf litter.
Wiley scratched his head. “I always thought mice were the stealthiest animals in the forest, but now I’m not sure. Snakes seem pretty sly.”
Tobin nodded. “Yeah. I suppose that’s the reason they pound the Rules into our heads the second we sprout fur. We have some pretty formidable enemies out here.”