A True Home

by Kallie George

  “So what if I do, Wince? What’s so bad about being a little more refined?”

  “We don’t need all that fancy stuff. We just need our noses and our teeth. Besides, it’s just a myth, this ‘hotel.’ And we could’ve been hunting now, instead of meeting and planning and waiting.”

  “Well, if you’re so eager, Wince, then why don’t you just go back to the Great Woods? It’ll leave more for us, more for me.”

  “You’re sure you’re right about the lights?”

  “I told you, yes. I’ve heard rumors about the Heartwood. Lots of rumors. I’m right about the lights. They’re supposed to be lit when the snow falls. It’s getting colder. Should be soon. And when they’re lit, we’ll find it. It’s around here somewhere. The Heartwood Hotel.”

  “Heartwood—mmm. I like the hearts. They’re tastiest,” broke in another wolf.

  “You’re too bad,” said another. “A big bad wolf.” And the wolves began to howl again with laughter.

  Mona trembled all over. Slowly, carefully, she peeked out through a hollow knot in the log.

  It was a whole pack of them. Some pacing, some lying down, licking their paws. Moonlight glanced off sharp teeth and eyes yellow like fire. She could see the one—Gnarl—who was wearing the moles’ badge. It was hanging around his neck from a ribbon that was tattered and maybe even a little bloody. Mona crouched back down in the hollow log, her heart beating so fast it was a hum. That’s why wolves had been roaming nearby for months. They’d been searching for the Heartwood Hotel, waiting for the lights to be put up! She had to do something.

  But before she could do anything, one of the wolves, the one called Wince, barked, “Hey! Shut it! I smell something!”

  Mona froze.

  “Ah, you’re crazy.”

  “No! I smell something.” The sound of sniffing filled the air. “Mouse meat! I’m sure of it!”

  Mona dared not move. Even her tail was as motionless as a twig.

  She heard the padding of the wolves’ paws as a few more got up to join Wince. The sound of their footsteps came closer…and closer.

  This was it. In a moment they would find her and gobble her up, and there would be no one to warn Mr. Heartwood and the others about their terrible plan.

  And then, just when she was sure it was all over…

  “Give it up, Wince. You’re just imagining things. All the tasty treats are in the hotel.”

  “But—” grumbled Wince.

  “I tell you! All the animals are there. That’s where they all go this time of year. And that’s where we’ll find them.”

  “Fine, Gnarl,” muttered Wince, and Mona could hear him lie down with a thump. “I guess even my nose is hungry.”

  “We’re all hungry,” replied Gnarl. “But soon we won’t be. Soon the Heartwood will be ours. But not tonight. I’m going to get some shut-eye. I suggest you get some sleep, too—rest your stomach before the big feast.”

  Again the pack agreed. It wasn’t long before the yeses and yips turned to grunts and snores, and Mona felt her heart begin to slow again.

  But it was only after the wolves were completely quiet that she took another peek. They were asleep, a mass of gray and black. Carefully, she tiptoed out of the hollow log and crept around them, barely daring to breathe. They were so close she could smell their vile breath and see the drool dripping from their fangs.

  Once she had passed the last one, she began to run, faster than she ever had before, toward the Heartwood.

  Mona had never scurried so quickly. She followed the stream this way and that, all the way back up to the hotel. The moonlight glimmered off the water, showing her the way.

  She reached the tree, with its huge canopy of branches and the tiny carved heart, just as the sun was beginning to awaken, stretching its rays across the forest. Mona didn’t hesitate. She opened the door and dashed inside.

  There was no one in the lobby. The guests must still be sleeping, thought Mona. But the staff would already be up, eating their breakfast. And so she scampered down the stairs and burst into the kitchen, where, as she expected, the staff were all gathered around the kitchen table.

  “I saw wolves!” cried Mona.

  Everyone stared. Tilly stopped fidgeting with her food, her mouth open in surprise. Mr. Heartwood looked at Mona stonily. But Ms. Prickles smiled and said, “You’re back, dearie!”

  “Now, where in the forest did you—” started Mrs. Higgins.

  “Hush now, at once,” said Mr. Heartwood. “Miss Mona, please go to my office, or take a seat. Your stories must wait; first we eat.”

  “But, Mr. Heartwood…Mrs. Higgins…Ms. Prickles…you have to listen. I saw wolves! A whole pack of them.”

  “Hush, I say!” Mr. Heartwood was looking more and more agitated. “The hotel hasn’t been found by wolves yet. Why would they now be a threat? The wolves don’t even frequent Fernwood Forest.”

  “But…but they have been seen nearby,” stammered Gilles. “I heard a guest discussing—”

  “Enough!” bellowed Mr. Heartwood.

  “But you have to believe me,” cried Mona. “If this is about Ms. J, I thought we welcomed all guests here.”

  “As we should,” said Mr. Heartwood, his tone suddenly softening, “and from now on we will. I was concerned small guests might be in danger from large paws, but instead of taking the time to make proper accommodations, I was a fool and made a rule. That must change. No excuses.” After a pause, he continued, more sternly now, “But there’s another matter here, Miss Mouse. By leaving without speaking to me, you broke my trust and your pledge.”

  “I…I…” stammered Mona, trying to explain. But the explanation came from Tilly.

  “It wasn’t her fault!” cried Tilly, leaping up and knocking over a bowl of honey. “It was mine.”

  Everyone froze, even Mona. Tilly’s tail twitched behind her head. “It was my fault Mona left. I tricked her. I said she had to, that she would be fired.”

  “You did?” humphed the badger. “Please explain.”

  “Indeed,” said Mrs. Higgins, rubbing her nose furiously.

  “I’m sorry. I thought that sooner or later you would choose her over me.” Tilly gulped. “Mona was doing so well. She soothed the skunks and the swallow and rescued us from the bear….”

  “You did, dearie?” Ms. Prickles looked over at Mona, impressed.

  Mona nodded, blushing.

  Tilly continued, “She did. She talked the bear into leaving. I knew but didn’t say. She’s a good maid. A better one than me. And if she says there are wolves, then we should believe her.”

  Tilly’s speech left the room silent, except for the plop, plop, plop of the honey spilling over the edge of the table. Mona couldn’t believe it. She tried to catch Tilly’s eye, but the squirrel didn’t meet her gaze.

  At last Mr. Heartwood spoke, but it wasn’t to Mona or to Tilly. It was up to the ceiling, as though he was speaking to the hotel itself. “So the wolves have found us at last.”

  “No, they haven’t,” piped Mona. “Not yet. But they will. They know about our lights. They are watching the forest to see which tree gets lit up. Then they will come. Unless we do something.”

  “But what, dearie?” said Ms. Prickles, whose quills were flared out, though her voice remained calm as always. “What can we possibly do?”

  Mona had no idea. But Mr. Heartwood did.

  “With no lit tree, there’s nothing for them to see,” he declared. “We simply don’t put up the lanterns.”

  “But what about the party? The lighting of the hearth?” said Mrs. Higgins. “All this work…The guests are expecting—”

  “No fire,” said Mr. Heartwood with a worried look. “The smoke will rise and catch the wolves’ eyes.”

  “What about the food?” said Ms. Prickles. “My ginger cakes? My acorn soufflé?”

  Mr. Heartwood looked increasingly troubled. “No feast either, I fear,” he said, shaking his head. “The delicious smells might draw the wolves
near.”

  “So…no festival, then, Mr. Heartwood?” said Mrs. Higgins, her nose redder than ever. “First the summer festivals, and now…”

  Mr. Higgins placed a comforting paw on hers, and she almost smiled.

  But then Mr. Heartwood said, “No festival. This is serious. Hurry, before they wake. Place notes under the doors of all the guests, informing them at once of the change of plans.”

  Even before breakfast was served, the ballroom was bustling with guests, notes in paws and claws.

  The staff gathered near the stage, while the guests, many still in their nightcaps and gowns, crowded in the middle of the room. Ms. J was standing on a table with her book, asking another guest, a chatty chipmunk, some pointed questions. Cybele was comforting an admiring shrew, who was very disappointed the swallow would not be singing that night. Lord Sudsbury was pacing, his tail trembling, with Lady Sudsbury, whose fur was in curlers, by his side. “There, there, my sweet,” she said. “There’s nothing to fret about.”

  But Mona knew differently. It seemed strange to see the ballroom so colorfully decorated, with holly berries and spiderweb snowflakes hanging from the ceiling and the tables draped in leaf-skeleton lace, when tonight’s celebrations had been cancelled.

  Mr. Heartwood strode onto the stage under a banner that read FIRST SNOW FESTIVAL. He straightened his tie and cleared his throat. “Good morning,” he said. “As you know, there has been a change of plans. Unfortunately, due to unforeseen circumstances, we must delay this festive day.”

  Everyone started asking questions at once.

  “But why?” said the chipmunk.

  “That’s why I came here!” complained the shrew. “I was planning to dance till my paws hurt!”

  “And the decorating!” added a small rabbit.

  “Yes, explain yourself, Mr. Heartwood!” demanded Lady Sudsbury.

  Mr. Heartwood tugged at his robe. “The reasons are…complicated. But you will be compensated. This I promise. And there will be complimentary hot honey and acorn cookies tonight, and Heartwood Hotel cards to play with.”

  “Cards and cookies!” cried the chipmunk. “That’s crumbs! I’m heading home.”

  “Me too! No festival means no fun,” said the shrew.

  “No! You must stay!” exclaimed Mr. Heartwood. “It isn’t safe.”

  “Not safe?” screeched the shrew. “What do you mean?”

  “I knew it, I knew it!” cried Lord Sudsbury, his tail atremble. “We’re under attack! It’s the wolves! They’re here at last.”

  The guests gasped.

  “They’re not here!” said Mr. Heartwood, trying to calm everyone down. “But they are…well, near.”

  That was the wrong thing to say. Now all the guests were panicking. Lord Sudsbury’s tail began to shake violently. Cybele looked frightened. “I still can’t fly properly!” she moaned. Ms. J was pacing on top of a table, writing furiously.

  “You must stay here!” said Mr. Heartwood. “We all must hide.”

  “No! We have to run away!” cried a guest.

  Others joined in with their suggestions. Mona listened from her spot by the stage, her ears twitching. Running or hiding: those were the choices. Running or hiding: that’s what small animals like her did. That’s what she had done all her life. She had run away from the Heartwood because she was afraid she had made a mistake. But she was happy she had let in the June bug, and proud of helping the Sudsburys and making friends with Cybele. She was especially proud of helping Brumble. She didn’t want to run anymore, or hide either. She didn’t want the wolves to ruin everything. She wanted to have the festival. She wanted to decorate the tree….

  And just as she thought that, she had an idea! A way to decorate a tree and get rid of the wolves. It was time to take Brumble up on his offer.

  “It’s time that we made the wolves run and hide, for a change!” cried Mona, excited.

  Mona didn’t realize she had said it aloud. But she had. And loudly, too. Loudly enough that it cut through the other conversations and the animals turned to her. “The wolves?” “What do you mean?” “You’ve got to be kidding!” But then Cybele said strongly in her sweet voice, “Wait! I want to hear. What is it, Mona? What is your plan?”

  And so Mona explained. And as she explained, the eyes of the animals grew wide and bright with the power of a big idea, of a brave idea, of a brilliant idea.

  Fernwood Forest was dark when the animals made their way upstream. Of course, many of the guests stayed safely in the hotel (Mr. Sudsbury hid in his room), but quite a few did join in. Which was good, since it took the work of many paws and claws and wings to lift the lanterns upstream to the big hollow tree where Brumble slept. The animals barely spoke, just scurried, swift and silent as only small animals can be. They brought peppermint, too—in big bundles—to line Brumble’s tree and mask his scent, another part of Mona’s plan.

  It was cold and blustery and the air smelled like snow. Mona held tight to her unlit lantern, which swung wildly back and forth. When the howls of the wolves were carried by the wind, the animals all paused, and only when the sound faded did they start again.

  When they reached the big tree, they stopped. The sound of snoring rumbled from inside.

  “I’ll wake him,” said Mona. “I know Brumble.”

  No one, not even Mr. Heartwood, argued.

  Mona set down her lantern and scurried through the opening, into the darkness and the smell of fur and fish and berries. Quickly, her eyes adjusted and she realized she was standing right in front of Brumble’s nose!

  She gulped.

  Brumble was a lot bigger than she had remembered.

  It was one thing to imagine the plan—imagine Brumble happily agreeing. But would he really be so happy to be woken from his sleep? Mona wasn’t sure.

  She gulped again. She could turn back, run away, hide….But she didn’t.

  And so she said, in her biggest voice, “BRUMBLE! WAKE UP!”

  Brumble’s ear twitched but his eyes did not open.

  “BRUMBLE, WAKE UP!” she tried again.

  Brumble’s other ear twitched. He snorted. But still he snored on.

  Mona reached into her apron pocket and pulled out a piece of honeycomb wrapped in a leaf. She had brought it just in case. It was very sticky. “BRUMBLE, PLEASE, IT’S MONA!” she cried for the third time, in her very loudest voice, and held up the honeycomb.

  The bear’s nose wiggled. His tongue stuck out and, with a big lick, he gobbled up the honeycomb, covering Mona’s paw in drool.

  “Mmmm, good,” he mumbled, his eyes flickering open. He gave a huge yawn. Mona tumbled backward from the force of it.

  Brumble looked at her sleepily and said, “Gosh! It’s you….”

  “I—I’m so sorry to disturb you, Brumble,” stammered Mona, “but I need your help.”

  It took Mona a few tries to explain the idea, because Brumble kept falling back asleep, but when he finally heard and understood it all, he liked it well enough. “Those noisy wolves are the reason I had to move my home in the first place,” he grumbled.

  And Brumble especially liked Mr. Heartwood’s offer of more honeycomb and berries as well, to be ready for him upon spring awakening.

  And so, Mona went back out and told everyone Brumble was in agreement. The first part of the plan had worked. The next, lining the tree with peppermint, was easy enough, too. But putting up the lanterns proved much more difficult. The wind blustered, and it made balancing on the branches with the lanterns very difficult.

  The walnut shells were too big for Mona to hang up herself, so, while the squirrels and chipmunks and birds hooked the lanterns onto the branches, she took the most dangerous job—lighting them. When they were all up and ready, Mona scrambled back and forth, balancing oh-so-carefully on the limbs, and lit each candle. The flames flickered in the wind but miraculously stayed lit.

  Soon there were only a few more candles to light. But Mona wanted to get every last one. The candles were sm
all and would burn down quickly. If the wolves didn’t see the lights, if the trick didn’t work, it would be her fault. And so she stayed, lighting lantern after lantern until the very last one was ablaze.

  When she was finished, she blew out her candle, climbed down to join the others, and looked up. The tree was beautiful, as though it were hung with stars. For a second Mona didn’t feel like a tiny mouse at all, but big as a bear. Maybe even as big as a tree.

  “It’s not the Heartwood, but it just might do,” said Mr. Heartwood with a nod. “As long as the wolves think so, too.”

  Just as he said the words: AWOOO! The howls made Mona jump.

  “Come, quickly!” commanded Mr. Heartwood. The few animals remaining obeyed at once, scurrying away from the tree, into the bushes, out of sight.

  AWOOO! The howls grew louder, closer.

  “Stop!” commanded Mr. Heartwood. “We’ll make too much noise if we move.”

  It was true, but what would they do? They had no peppermint left to disguise their scent.

  “As long as the wolves head to the tree, we shall be safe,” said the badger. “As long as the plan works….”

  Would it? Mona hoped so with all her heart. She could hear the wolves even louder now….

  AWOOOO!

  Mona peered out between the branches of the bush. She couldn’t see the wolves yet, but she could see Brumble’s tree glittering in the darkness.

  All at once, she froze. Not just the tree was glittering. The forest was, too—with eyes. The yellow eyes of the wolves.

  Any moment now they would find the tree. Any moment they would see the lanterns, too.

  And then something terrible happened.

  WHOOSH!

  A great gust of wind tore through the forest, so strong it whipped back branches, snapped away twigs, and, with a mighty WHISH, blew out the lanterns.

  “Oh no,” whispered Mona. She turned with wide eyes to Mr. Heartwood, who looked horrified, too.

  Tilly was shaking, twisting her tail this way and that. “What will we do? What will we do?” she repeated.