by Colin Dann
‘Father, will we ever see Fox again?’ asked one of the leverets.
Hare smiled down at him. ‘Of course we will, my dear,’ he said gently. ‘He’ll soon be back. You’ll see.’
As he sped back towards the camp in the gorse thicket, and in the direction of the flames, Fox resolutely put every fearsome thought from his mind. He told himself to think only of Toad, and how he must save him to save the others. Without Toad they were indeed lost.
The fire grew brighter and noisier ahead of him, and soon the air smelt, and felt, hot and scorched. The heat increased continually. There was no sign of Toad.
Fox began to call him. ‘Toad! Toad! Where are you?’ Then, raising his voice above the noise of the burning, he shouted as loudly as he could: ‘TOAD!’
Fox dared not look directly at the terrifying sight that he was swiftly approaching. He knew that to do so would mean an instantaneous loss of nerve. But he could hear the crashing of blazing boughs – sometimes whole saplings. The roar of the greedy flames was hideous, and at last he could go no further. His courage failed him, and he felt all he could do was turn and run back to safety and companionship.
Then he heard a desperate croak. ‘Fox! Have you come back? Here I am!’
Toad was sitting under a gorse bush, making no attempt to move.
‘What are you doing there?’ Fox whispered through his parched lips. ‘Come quickly. The flames are almost on us.’
‘I thought I was lost,’ Toad answered. ‘I knew my poor speed could never get me to safety, so I resigned myself to wait here for my . . . end.’
Even as he spoke, the first flames burst upon them with a tremendous roar. Fanned by a slight breeze, the fire had accelerated, and was sweeping its greedy fingers through the undergrowth. Toad made a mighty leap as the gorse bush went up like a bonfire. The night was lit up around them, as bright as daylight, but more fitful, by the flames.
Now they heard sirens in the distance, traffic, and human voices. Fox bent his head and gently took Toad in his jaws. Then, turning, he galloped away, back through the dry undergrowth towards his friends.
He paused only once, to release Toad and allow him to climb on to his back. Then, with the hateful roar still dinning in their ears, they raced for the marsh.
While his friends had fled for their lives, the unfortunate Mole remained completely oblivious of the existence of the oncoming fire. His insatiable appetite drew him down, deeper and deeper into the earth. Worms were plentiful in that marshy soil, and Mole ate as he delved. He only became aware of the presence of water when his feet began to get wet, and eventually he felt his fur to be wet too. Mole realized the hole he had dug was filling up, and he knew that to turn back would be to drown. So he went no further down, but continued to dig a path in a straight line, and after about another twelve inches, he clawed his way upwards.
The surface seemed to be a long, long way away. Mole had no idea that, in his hunger, he had tunnelled so far downward. As he climbed upwards he felt warmer and warmer, and he decided this must be due to his exertions in reaching for the surface. But he grew hotter and hotter, and hotter, and even the soil began to feel hot. Soon it was too hot for him to bear: his paws could no longer touch the earth without being burnt. Mole recoiled, and slipped back a few inches. He was trapped between the heat above him and the water below.
When Badger’s party had rested for some minutes, and all had got their breath back, Badger and Tawny Owl led them on again at a steady pace. The distance was shorter this time, and they were not long in finally reaching the other side of the marsh.
They looked across the marsh at the fire. They seemed to be far enough away from it now to be safe. The muddy water reflected the flames and seemed to flicker.
‘Look, look, the water’s on fire!’ squeaked one of the young fleldmice.
‘It’s just the reflection,’ his mother answered him, soothingly.
‘Water fights fire,’ Badger pointed out kindly. ‘It’s an enemy to fire. Humans use it, you know, to kill flames. We’re quite safe. Fox was wise.’
‘What will happen then, Badger, when the fire reaches the water?’ asked a young squirrel.
‘It will burn itself out,’ Badger answered. ‘It will be quenched by the water, just like you quench a thirst.’
The animals relaxed. Badger, whom they held in almost as high esteem as Fox, was confident that they were safe. They lay down, the young ones snuggling up to their mothers.
Badger called to Tawny Owl, who had perched on a low branch. ‘Why don’t you fly across the marsh and see if you can spot Fox and Toad?’ he asked. ‘I can’t rest till I know they’re all right.’ There was some nervousness in his voice.
‘I shouldn’t worry, Badger,’ Tawny Owl reassured him. ‘Fox can look after himself.’
‘Yes, but what if he couldn’t get to Toad in time?’
‘Very well, if it will put your mind at rest . . .’ Tawny Owl flapped off the branch and flew away over the water. Badger watched him until he was too small to distinguish against the darkness.
He felt someone brush against his fur. It was Hare.
‘If he was too late to save Toad . . . what then?’ he asked.
‘I don’t know,’ said Badger. ‘We can’t go back. No doubt Fox would think of something.’
Tawny Owl was not long gone. They were still gazing across the marsh when they noticed his grey shape returning.
‘They’re all right!’ Tawny Owl called, and hooted in his pleasure. ‘They’re both all right!’
Badger heaved a sigh of relief. ‘Thanks, Owl, for going,’ he said.
‘Believe me, I’m as relieved as you are,’ said Tawny Owl. ‘Fox is terribly tired, but he’s coming as fast as he can. He’s just started turning the corner towards this side. He was too tired to talk, but Toad called out to warn everyone to look out for the humans. There are lots of them coming.’
‘Toad was on Fox’s back?’ Badger assumed.
Tawny Owl nodded, and Hare was struck by a thought.
‘I wonder what happened to poor old Mole?’ he said.
While his friends were wondering about him, Mole, of course, was thinking of them, and bitterly regretting the greediness which had brought him to his present danger.
‘Why didn’t I answer when I heard them calling?’ he wailed to himself in his uncomfortable tunnel. ‘Oh, Badger, if I ever get out of here, I’ll never again run away because of my awful appetite! I promise. Oh dear, will I ever see him again? And Fox?’ The more he thought about his friends, the more miserable and helpless Mole felt himself to be.
He knew there must be some danger on the surface, although he had no idea what it could be. He wondered if Fox and Badger, and all the others, had escaped it, and, as he wondered, the thought came to him that they might now be miles away, having given him up for lost. He was all on his own, deserted! Whatever would become of him? He began to sob violently. He was very frightened. Finally, in his misery, Mole cried himself to sleep.
He had no idea how long he slept, but he was woken by the vibration of heavy footsteps overhead. There were many of them, and they were not animal footsteps. He shuddered afresh at this new danger, for the crashing above told him humans were about.
Eventually the din passed over and the vibrations became fainter. Mole decided it was high time to move if he were ever again to rejoin his friends. He inched timidly upwards. The soil still felt warm to his paws, but he continued. He soon felt sure he had passed the spot where he had previously had to retreat. After a few more moments the soil began to feel damp, and cooler. He pulled himself upwards more quickly, and experienced a new sensation. His snout detected a smell of burning, an acrid, charred smell. Then his claws pierced the surface and he wriggled up to peer out. He could scarcely believe his eyes.
Dawn had broken. Mole found a scene of desolation around him. Everything was a uniform, hideous black. Earth, grass, rushes and shrubs had been burnt to cinders. Stunted saplings with charcoal for tr
unks, bald of leaves and shoots, stood like skeletons. Some of the larger trees had escaped with a severe scorching, losing only the branches and leaves close to the ground. Even those looked as if they had been severely wounded and would bear the scars for ever. The black ground was thoroughly wet, and was still smoking in places.
Mole knew that there had been a terrible fire, and that the humans had come with water to quench it. He felt certain that all his friends must have been killed, as they could not possibly have survived such a disaster.
‘Oh, I wish I were dead, too!’ he howled. ‘I’m no good on my own. Where can I go? Oh, poor Badger!’ And he laid himself down on the ashes, with his head on his paws, and wept bitterly.
Mole’s poor eyesight had been too weak to notice that in the distance, along the sides of the marsh, the fire was still burning, despite the efforts of the humans with their water and their beaters. At that moment the other animals, now rejoined by Fox and Toad, were, while far from dead, in even graver danger than before.
10
Confrontation
As Mole lay in despair, his little velvet-covered body shaken by sobs, he was unaware that he was being watched. One of the beaters had remained behind to ensure that no further fires would break out from the glowing embers. Now he had reached the spot where Mole had earlier gone hunting, and was amazed to find any wildlife remaining in the wake of the flames. He bent over the little creature to see if he was still alive, and could see evidence of Mole’s breathing. When he saw the hole from which the animal had recently emerged, the beater understood how he had managed to escape being burnt to death. Cautiously he lowered a hand, and found that the animal had no wish to run away. He lifted him up and looked at him more closely. Mole did not even wriggle.
The beater was in a quandary, for he had nowhere to put the creature. At the same time he was unwilling to abandon something he was pleased to think he might have just saved, for he felt sure Mole’s docility resulted from the fact that he had been injured. In the end he deposited him in one of the large side pockets of his firefighter’s jacket, mopped his forehead, and went slowly on in the direction of the marsh.
After the initial excitement at the reappearance of Fox and Toad had somewhat abated, Toad was able to tell his friends just how the fire had started.
‘I had finished with sleeping,’ he began, ‘and I was simply squatting restfully in the comfortable little hollow in the ground that I’d made for myself. I was alone, because Adder had slid off somewhere.’
‘Just went to have a hunt round,’ Adder told them with a glint in his red eyes. ‘Never know what you might find . . .’
‘Anyway, I remember hearing a sizzling noise,’ Toad went on, ‘and it seemed to get louder.’ He paused for effect, looking round at the other animals, who were clustering in small groups among the grass tussocks and reeds. ‘I went to have a look. The grass beyond the railings was burning. It must have been a cigarette that started it, thrown out of a passing car. The flames were advancing rapidly, and I could see that in a very short time they would reach inside the army land. I hastened off to tell Adder.
‘As the flames got nearer, and I watched the gorse thicket swallowed up, I knew I could never escape the fire, being so slow. I told Adder not to wait for me – to get away, if he could. But, thanks to our brave leader, I’m still here with you.’
‘If it weren’t for Mole,’ said the exhausted Fox, who was lying full length on the ground, ‘the party would be complete.’ He told Toad about the disappearance of Mole, and all the animals fell silent, thinking about their lost companion whom they presumed drowned, or burnt by the fire.
Dawn approached, and across the marsh the flames seemed to pale as the sky became lighter. But the fire did not stop.
Rabbit expressed the concern of the smaller, more timid animals. ‘It’s coming on! It’s still coming!’ he cried to Fox, as if blaming him for its continuance.
‘Yes, I see that it is,’ Fox replied wearily.
‘But didn’t you say it would stop at the marshy ground?’ Rabbit persisted.
‘I said that I hoped it would,’ answered Fox.
‘What if the marsh doesn’t stop it?’ asked Vole, and his question was repeated in alarm by his brethren.
‘Fox will think of something, don’t worry,’ Weasel said confidently.
‘At any rate,’ Toad put in, ‘the humans have arrived with their machines and ideas. They’ll soon stop it. Fire is just as much their enemy as ours, you see.’
Fox drifted off into an uneasy sleep, while Badger tried to calm the growing fears of more and more animals in the party. When it was broad daylight Kestrel flew off to see what was happening.
The fire continued to roar on, and began to spread round the sides of the marsh. ‘Surely we shouldn’t stay here?’ Pheasant protested.
‘Where do you suggest, then?’ Tawny Owl asked sharply.
‘Well, er . . . I . . . we don’t have to stay. We birds aren’t in danger.’
‘You’re free to leave at any time you want,’ Tawny Owl said meaningfully.
Pheasant’s mate gave him a nudge with her wing, and he looked a little embarrassed.
Kestrel returned at that moment, and attention was diverted from the discomfited Pheasant. ‘They’re making progress,’ the hawk announced. ‘But I think the fire won’t be mastered for a while yet. We’d better decide what to do. The flames are creeping round both sides of the water, so that there are now in effect, two fires, and, at the moment, we’re between them.’
All the animals looked towards Fox, who was still sleeping.
‘We’ll have to wake him,’ Badger decided. He went up close to his friend and gave him a shake with one paw.
Fox looked up at once. ‘I was only dozing,’ he said.
Badger told him of the advance of the fire.
‘Then it looks as if our lives are once again at the mercy of humans,’ he said with resignation. ‘Only they can save us now.’
The animals looked very alarmed at these words from their leader.
‘Are we helpless?’ asked Hare.
‘Not quite,’ said Kestrel. ‘From the air I could detect a sort of causeway of land, just a narrow strip, running under the surface of the water, but connected to the ground we’re on now. It leads to a small island some way out in the marsh. I think you could all walk on it. Once on the island, there’s no question of the flames reaching you.’
Fox was immediately alert again. ‘Where is the causeway, Kestrel?’ he asked. ‘Let me have a look at it.’
He left Badger in charge of the party, and followed Kestrel’s flight for a short distance.
‘Can you see it?’ Kestrel called down.
‘I think so,’ Fox answered, peering out over the water’s edge. ‘Yes! Yes, I can.’
Kestrel, hovering expertly above, watched Fox put one foot gingerly into the water, and test the firmness of the sunken ground. He seemed satisfied, and walked a little further in until his whole weight was pressing on it.
‘It seems strong enough,’ he called. ‘Better go and round up the others.’
When the rest of the party arrived, they saw Fox standing in the water. It reached up to just below his knees.
‘I’m going to walk out to the island,’ Fox told them. ‘Badger, will you follow behind me? We need to know how much weight it will bear.’
Slowly, with about a yard between them, the two animals moved forward along the causeway. The water reached to the top of Badger’s legs.
‘We can’t go across there!’ squealed Vole as he watched. ‘We voles and fieldmice, and the squirrels and hedgehogs too, would be under the water.’
‘I’m sure that won’t have escaped Fox’s notice,’ remarked Tawny Owl.
Fox and Badger reached the island without mishap, and remained there a little while in discussion, looking out towards where the flames were now noticeably beginning to encircle the marsh. Then they ran quickly back across the causeway, with the dark water
splashing up against their sides.
‘We haven’t got long,’ Fox told them. ‘We could see the humans at work on the flames, but I don’t think they can stop it in time for our safety. Badger and I will have to carry the smaller of you across in shifts. The larger animals, like Hare, the rabbits and Weasel should be able to keep their heads above water. Kestrel, will you get airborne and keep Badger and myself informed as to the progress of the fire? Now then, Fieldmice, up on my back.’
In the urgency of the moment, the excitable little mice, always rather highly strung, all made for Fox’s bushy tail, expecting to climb up. But there were too many of them. They got in each other’s way, bumping and pushing in their scramble to be the first up.
‘Ow! Stop this!’ yelled Fox, who felt as if his brush would soon be pulled off. ‘Calm down, and climb up one at a time.’ He looked across at Badger, who had lain himself down, the better to enable the voles to climb up his sides.
‘Now, wait, all of you,’ said Fox, and followed Badger’s example. The fieldmice scurried up on to his back, and, with Badger ahead of him, Fox stepped down again on to the causeway.
Having deposited the tiny creatures safely on the island, Fox and Badger ran quickly back for the second load. Already the awful roar and crackle of the fire could be heard again, and the animals were able to smell the scorched, ashy air wafting towards them.
‘Now, squirrels!’ cried Fox. ‘Badger and I can manage you all between us. Rabbits, Weasel, follow us. Hare, you must bring your family. Quickly!’
The animals leapt on to the spit of land, Fox and Badger carrying their furry burdens like two grey cloaks that had suddenly been invested with life. Hare followed, with his mate behind him, each carrying one of their babies. The water completely covered their bodies, leaving only their heads and necks above the surface, and the leverets, hanging on to their parents’ neck fur by their teeth, were all but submerged.
The rabbits, with their shorter legs, sank even further down in the water, and while the adults were just able to keep their noses, eyes and ears in the dry, Rabbit had to tell the youngsters to stay behind for Fox and Badger to collect them, leaving them in the care of Hedgehog.