by Rina Heisel
“Maybe.” Wiley raised a brow and nodded back to Hess. “But we have some formidable friends, too. I still think a mouse can get by just following Rule Number One.”
Tobin smiled.
Rule #1: Trust your first instinct.
He looked back at Talia. His sister, happily holding a web-wrapped pinkling and riding a snake. “Hey, Tal, what do you think the Rules say about snake riding?”
“Hmm,” she answered. “Forget the Rules. Imagine what Mom would say!”
Tobin laughed, picturing his mom’s fur turning silver instantly at the sight. “I think the Rules are more like a set of really good guidelines.”
Wiley snickered beside him. “I can’t believe you just said that. Don’t get me wrong! I totally agree with you. I just never thought I’d hear those words out of your mouth.”
“Me neither,” Talia agreed. “But don’t worry, Tobin, when I’m a weather scout, I’ll still use the Rules, just like you.”
Hess stopped his slither for a moment. “I hope I’m not out of line here, Talia, but why weather scouts? It seems like there are lots of roles to fill at your Great Burrow.”
Tobin and Wiley also stopped, turning to hear the answer. A hundred possibilities suddenly filled Tobin’s mind, and he realized what a great question that was.
“Well . . .” Talia paused, giving her answer some consideration. “Tobin and Wiley are the bravest, cleverest scouts ever, and that’s what they do.”
Tobin ears perked up at the comment, and he and Wiley exchanged looks.
“Tal,” said Tobin, “that’s a really nice thing to say.”
“And also very true,” Wiley interjected.
“Right.” Tobin laughed, snatching the conversation back. “But, you know, I couldn’t have been a communication scout, because I thought that class was way too hard. But you’re a natural. And the plant identification—you’re great at that, too. If I’ve learned anything on this journey, it’s that you have lots of talents, and there’s lots of ways you can help the burrow.”
Wiley nodded in agreement. “That’s true. Just keep an open mind.”
“Wow.” Talia looked from Wiley to Tobin, and a smile sprouted on her face. “I will. Thanks.”
Wiley raised a paw. “I mean, I totally understand wanting to be like us, though.”
A hiss of laughter escaped Hess. “Okay, let’s get back on track here before we encourage Wiley any further.”
“Definitely,” Tobin chided, turning back toward the creek and smiling at his friend.
Wiley shook his head. “You know, I bet Camrik will hit the canopy when he sees us with Hess.”
“Camrik?” Hess asked.
As they neared the creek, Talia told Hess all about the chipmunk. She also mentioned that the striped rodent planned on destroying the tree bridge. Hess was saying something about “delusions of grandeur” when Tobin heard the water. A moment later, he smelled it.
“We’re almost there!” Glancing back to Hess, Tobin’s excitement level suddenly dipped. “Um, how far are you coming with us?”
Hess flicked his tongue in and out before answering. “I’ve teamed up with mice, owls, and a woodchuck—may as well add a chipmunk to the list.”
Tobin grinned. So close to home and he still didn’t have to say goodbye—yet. He was a lucky mouse.
It was a quick descent through forest foliage to the cattails and bulrushes of the creek bed. Memories of a catfish and hawk flashed in his mind, and Tobin whispered, “Let’s stay close together. This place is tricky.”
Cautiously watching the sky and rocky surroundings, they scaled down the slope to Camrik’s den. Tobin spotted the familiar, narrow entryway between rocks. “Camrik?” he called softly. “Camrik, are you in there?”
Wiley stepped in front of him and peeked inside. He sniffed. “I don’t think he’s home.”
“Guys.” Talia stood on her hind legs, balancing on Hess’s head. “That’s because Camrik’s sitting on the stump end of the tree bridge, talking to a beaver.”
Tobin’s and Wiley’s eyes met, and Wiley spoke first. “A beaver! That clever rodent’s really bringing down the bridge.”
“Let’s hurry,” Hess said, speeding down the rocky slope.
They zipped through the reeds to the charred base of the tree, where the lightning strike had brought it down. Tobin raised a paw. “Wait down here a minute, Hess.”
The big snake nodded, coiling beneath a clump of ferns. Talia laid the pinkling beside him.
Tobin looked up the base of the toppled tree. Standing as tall as a fawn, the tree stump looked normal. Green patches of moss still gripped its sides, the roots still firmly planted in the ground. But higher up, the scars of the lightning strike were plain to see. Streaks of black charred the wood like claw marks. Splinters of wood hung cockeyed from the break. Tobin shivered. “If Camrik’s sitting up there, out in the open, it must be safe enough to call to him, right?”
Wiley and Talia nodded, so they walked to the base of the fallen tree. They could hear the chipmunk chattering instructions to someone below in the creek. The beaver?
Tobin cleared his throat.
Tchirr! Tchirr!
Tobin waited a moment, but Camrik wasn’t responding.
Tchirr—
A flash of streaked rodent flew through the air above Tobin’s head.
“Yikes!” Wiley yelped, and all three mice flattened to the ground.
Camrik somehow spun midair and landed in a crouch, facing the mice, his teeth bared and his fur spiked.
Tobin held out a paw. “Camrik! It’s us, remember?”
Camrik’s stare crossed over each of the mice, and his chestnut coat smoothed again. “I can’t believe it.” He looked up at a neighboring tree. “Whole lot of good you’re doing up there! These three snuck right up on me!”
A gray squirrel peered down. “You said watch for hawks.”
“Squirrels,” Camrik muttered, shaking his head. “Anyway.” A wry smile finally crept across his face. “It is nice to see you all, and, oh.” His smile disappeared. “I’m sorry you weren’t able to rescue your pinkling.”
“But we did,” Tobin said. “He’s waiting with our new friend, over there by the ferns.”
“Uh-huh,” Camrik said. “And why are they in the ferns?”
“Can I tell him?” Talia asked, her eyes twinkling with excitement.
“Go ahead,” Tobin answered.
“Because our new friend is a snake! A real, live, fang-toothed snake. Named Hess. We thought we should warn you before he slithered out here.”
Camrik raised his brow. “A snake? Okay, well, if you say so. I should tell you, I also teamed up with someone while you were gone. I wasn’t sure when you would return, so I thought I should just get started on my plan.”
Wiley hopped beside Tobin. “More like, he wasn’t sure we would return.”
“No kidding.” Tobin pivoted his ears to take in all the sounds of the creek. One noise definitely stood out.
Scrape scrape scrape scrape scrape—CRUNCH!
Camrik climbed back up the tree stump and waved for the mice to follow.
“C’mon! Let’s check it out,” said Wiley.
Tobin nodded, and the three mice deftly scaled the tree trunk and sat beside Camrik, who was sitting tall and proud.
“Let’s see, where’d she go . . . Ah, there.” The chipmunk pointed to the water.
Tobin followed the chipmunk’s gaze into the creek. The water swirled around a wriggling beaver, chomping and scraping at its point of destruction.
“Keely,” Camrik called. The beaver kept working. “Keely!”
Scrape scrape—
“What?” The beaver finally called back.
Camrik jerked his head. “Come ’round a sec. These are the mice I’d told you about.” Camrik hopped off the bridge where the water lapped the shoreline. Tobin lingered a moment, watching the bulky rodent smoothly slice through the water.
Talia leaped past him. “
Let’s go meet her.” She jumped down to the water’s edge and Tobin followed.
The beaver waddled partway out of the water. Her head alone dwarfed Camrik.
“Everyone, this is Keely,” said Camrik. “We met when her colony was having a mushroom problem.”
“That’s one way to say it.” She laughed. “I caught Cam stuffing his cheeks with the fungus on the dam. The mushrooms were becoming a problem, so we told him to help himself.”
Camrik nodded. “I visited Keely’s colony yesterday. Luckily, she thought they could use this timber downstream.”
Talia sat straight up. “Then the spiders won’t be able to cross again.”
Keely flashed a buck-toothed smile. “That’s right. Honestly, I can’t stand those creepers. One of those nasty buggers tried crossing my dam once. I flattened him good with a tail flop. Wham!”
Keely demonstrated her tail flop, and Tobin ducked. Water exploded around them. Talia clapped as water dripped from her nose. Keely leaned closer to the mouseling. “Know what else? I left that squished spider right there, too. Just so any other creepers that came along knew what’d happen if they tried to cross my dam.”
“Very clever!” said Talia.
Tobin chuckled. Talia stared at the beaver like she had a new hero.
“So.” Camrik raised up onto his hind legs, peering over Tobin’s shoulders. “If you all are planning to cross back over, you may want to bring out your friend and the pinkling.”
“Sure, just remember, he’s our friend,” Tobin reminded.
“He even lets us ride him,” Talia added, for good measure.
“Ride him?” Camrik folded his paws across his chest. “Just how big is this snake?”
Tobin rose onto his back legs. “Come on out, Hess.”
The fern fronds shivered, and the black snake appeared, his head slithering close to the ground, a webbed bundle balanced perfectly on his snout.
“Jumpin’ junipers!” Camrik sprang into the air, landing squarely between Keely’s shoulders. He peeked over the beaver’s head. “I expected more of a, well, twig-sized viper.”
Keely nodded. “That snake’s the size of a sapling.”
Wiley stepped beside Hess. “We never said he was small.” Wiley reached over and took the pinkling from Hess’s snout.
Hess raised his head and looked at Camrik. “My name is Hess. I’m at your disposal if I can be of any service.”
“Well, my my,” cooed Keely, “a real serpent sophisticate.”
“The pinkling will need its mother soon,” said Hess, “so the mice should get moving.”
Tobin felt like a fish tail had just smacked his face. “Hess, don’t you mean we should get moving?”
Keely pushed herself back into the water. “You best move then. I plan on cracking this trunk by sundown.”
Hess drew a sharp breath before looking at Tobin. “Your burrow is right across the bridge, correct?”
A lump grew in Tobin’s throat, so he simply nodded.
Hess continued. “Crossing a slick tree bridge can be tricky, even for nimble mice. I’m not sure how well I’d fare.”
Tobin bit his bottom lip. All eyes were on him; Wiley, Talia, Hess—all waited for his response. His whiskers twitched and he cleared his throat. “I don’t want to say goodbye.”
Wiley lowered his gaze, grinding his paw into the dirt.
Talia jumped to Hess and flung her paws around him. “I don’t want to say goodbye, either.”
Hess nuzzled Talia with his good cheek. “How about this? One week from today, let’s stand at this very spot on the creek. You on your side, and me on mine. We can wave our hellos.”
Wiley rubbed a paw across his good eye. “That sounds good, because there is no way my brothers are gonna believe this unless they see you.”
Hess gave a lopsided smile. “How about you, Tobin?”
Tobin swallowed the stone in his throat. “Okay. One week. Then we’ll figure out a better way to see you.”
Hess lowered his head, meeting him eye to eye. “But for now, I’ll stay right here and watch you cross. Your pinkling needs your mom.”
Tobin nodded, but his legs didn’t seem to want to move. Talia leaned in. “Tobin, imagine how excited Mom and Dad are going to be to see us.”
Tobin nodded, the thought of reuniting with his parents giving him just enough strength to say the toughest goodbye of his life. He raised his paw, and Talia and Wiley followed suit. “Hess, my friend, swiftly and safely, be on your way.”
Hess saluted in return with the tip of his tail. “Swiftly and safely, till another day. My friends.”
Tobin nodded, blinking back the hot tears threatening to spill forward. Think of Mom and Dad. He leaned in toward Wiley, gently lifting the webbed bundle in his mouth.
“Good idea,” Wiley said. “We’ll need all claws on the slippery tree.”
Tobin waved his tail at Camrik.
The chipmunk hollered in return, “Swiftly and safely, mice. Good luck!”
Wiley and Talia also waved their goodbyes. Tobin hopped onto the tree bridge, ready to tread its slippery surface one last time. His eyes glanced skyward. All clear, so he scurried forward, his claws providing the traction he needed. Even his injured leg wasn’t bothering him much.
He focused on the bridge, the occasional laps of water that crested its sides, and the sky.
He only sensed the dark presence in the water a split second before it struck.
The clap of snapping jaws rang in his ears. A set of badger-sized claws raked the bridge.
Snapping turtle!
The creature had missed, but only by a whisker.
The beast tried again to pull its body up onto the bridge, coming between the mice and the shore. Tobin spun, tossing the pinkling from his mouth into Wiley’s outstretched paws. Wiley grabbed the bundle, running back toward Camrik’s shore. Tobin leaped to follow, but was jerked backward instead.
The turtle had him by the tail. With a flick of its long neck, the snapper tossed Tobin skyward. Only then, hanging midair, did he see the full form of the turtle. As wide around as a badger, its hook-beaked mouth gaped open below, its tongue wriggling in anticipation.
As Tobin fell, another open mouth streaked toward him. He shut his eyes as a hundred splinters pricked his back, and he was doused in cold creek water.
Something gripped him by the backbone, propelled him through the churning creek. He dared to open his eyes. Green water swirled as black dots peppered his vision. He needed to breathe; his mouth opened. He needed to inhale something, anything. Then he broke the surface. Tobin’s lungs ripped the air from the sky.
A mass of brown rose to the surface beside him. “Keely?” Tobin croaked.
Keely jerked her chin up. “Put him on my back.”
Clearly the beaver wasn’t speaking to him. Tobin was shoved up from the water’s surface, the pinch on his back releasing as he spilled onto the beaver’s wet back.
Tobin flopped his head sideways. He saw Hess. The snake made eye contact with him for a moment, then slipped back into the water. Something didn’t look right. Hess wasn’t swimming—he was tumbling. The surging water pushed the snake downstream like a rolling strand of seaweed.
Fear clenched Tobin as Keely pressed to the shoreline. He tried to shout, but realized he was still gasping in his breaths. His vision blurred with black clouds, until the whole world went dark, one thought swirling through his mind.
Someone help Hess . . .
Twenty-Four
THE VOICE COMFORTED HIM.
“Hush, Tobin. My brave little hero, everything’s going to be okay.”
He loved that voice. It made his heart swell and his eyes flutter open. Big brown eyes gazed back at him.
Tobin blinked. “Mom?”
She smiled. “Good morning, sweetie. How are you feeling?”
Confused.
“Okay, I guess.” He lifted his head from the soft grass bedding and an ache spread through his neck and shoulder
s. “Why do I feel . . .”
The creek. Hess. Talia.
Tobin gasped. “Mom! Where’s Talia? Wiley? The baby—” His voice cracked. “Hess?”
His mom ran a paw across his forehead. “Everyone is okay.” She leaned her body away, revealing the baby cradled against her side. “Including your baby brother, see? He’s right here. His name is Coal. And he’s alive, because of you.”
Tobin’s thoughts seemed to drown in a sea of questions. “You and Dad, you’re both okay?”
“Yes.” She leaned in and clasped his paw. “When the lightning struck the tree and it fell so close to the burrow, the ground shook and caused a small cave-in. The floor in our den gave way, and we all slipped outside.”
“Our den is gone?” His heart began strumming, and he felt like that hummingbird trapped in a websack.
“Everyone was able to dig out of the cave-in. The spiders took us all by surprise, and when I couldn’t find the pinkling . . .” She stopped.
Tobin saw sadness filling her eyes, but she shook her head and blinked it away.
“Anyway, none of that matters now. The burrow will be fixed. And you, your sister, your brother, and Wiley, you’re all home safe.”
Tobin nodded, not saying anything because he sensed his mother had more to say. He was right.
“You are going to be all right, Tobin, but we do have to talk about your tail.”
Tobin’s breath caught in his throat. His paw slipped to the base of his tail, clutching it gingerly. He felt it again—the pinch.
His mom set her paw over his. “Remember, you are going to be okay.”
Tobin looked down; he saw his paw wrapped around the base of his tail, and his eyes traced the length of it until it stopped, but it stopped too soon.
He’d lost the tip. No, a little more than just the tip. The last third of his tail was missing.
He gasped, and his body shuddered. “Mom.”
She gripped his paw more firmly. “It will take some getting used to, balance-wise, but we should be grateful it was a clean snip.”
“A clean snip.” A wave of sickness washed over him, and he fought to keep Nuna’s turnips from reemerging. “The turtle . . . the snapper ate my tail.”