A Forest World

by Felix Salten

  They believed that they hated the young whippersnapper. They didn’t notice that as a matter of strict truth they gradually began to like him very much.

  Chapter 25

  SPRING FLOWERED INTO SUMMER. Hot days warmed the forest floor, drying up the little puddles and the damp places. The brook became a brooklet, a tiny trickle, and then its bed dried up completely.

  The roebucks shed their horns earlier than usual, and proudly, exuberantly, paraded in their beautiful red coats.

  Again Genina walked with two fawns, a male and a female, substitutes for Loso and Mena. The pelt of both was still sprinkled with the white specks of first youth.

  Loso, seeing Genina at a distance, said curtly, “Greetings,” and quickly continued on his way. Genina did not attempt to answer him. A few months, even a few weeks, earlier, Loso’s behavior would have hurt her very much. But now Loso’s attitude was a matter of indifference to her. “He’s young and giddy,” she reflected indulgently.

  Tender and happy, she looked at her new twins. “Nerba, Rambano,” she whispered, “come closer to me.” The little ones willingly obeyed their mother’s call. “I love you terribly,” said Genina very softly, “I love you both with all my heart!”

  Rambano awkwardly tried a small leap of joy, and staggered on spread-out legs. “I love you too, mother!” he piped.

  “So do I! I’ll always love you, mother! Always!” Nerba pressed against Genina’s side.

  “We’ll love you as long as we live, mother,” Rambano promised. “All our lives. Only you!”

  Genina should have known better. She might have remembered Mena and Loso. Yet she had learned nothing from the way her lost first twins had treated her. She believed her new children’s sweet promises and was quite happy.

  A sharp, evil odor brought sudden terror into her contentment.

  The fox!

  “Stay close to me, children!” she warned. “Danger!”

  The little ones too had caught the scent of the fox. Fearfully they trembled behind their mother.

  Genina awaited the robber with determination. She would fight! Even if she had to die, the red killer would not get her children. But she would not die! A great anger streamed through the gentle Genina, a high, flaming, angry courage.

  The fox slunk into view. When he saw the mother ready for battle, he hesitated.

  At once Genina attacked him with flailing, drumming forelegs.

  He ducked and parried, awaiting a favorable chance.

  But Genina was lucky. She caught the hated enemy square on the nose several times in lightning succession. With a yelp of pain he cowered away. Blood dripped from his snout.

  Genina’s heart beat to suffocation. Triumphantly she lifted her head. The children were saved! The red murderer would never dare come near them again.

  “Be careful!” she told the little ones. “Don’t leave my side. There are many other dangers!”

  “We’ll stay with you, mother,” Rambano assured her.

  “We never want to be without you, mother,” said Nerba.

  “That’s my sweet little girl,” Genina said, and regained her composure.

  The twins danced clumsily around her.

  Arilla joined them. “Greetings!” Her tone was friendly.

  But Genina responded coolly, “Greetings!”

  Arilla began the conversation with some embarrassment. “You have children again?”

  “Can’t you see for yourself?”

  “Oh, yes! And two, at that.”

  “I always have two.” Genina was proud.

  “And I am still alone.”

  “Haven’t you ever had children?” The mother roe peered at her curiously.

  “No, never, Genina.”

  “You’re unfortunate, Arilla.” A kind of smug sympathy stirred in Genina.

  Arilla laughed a little uncertainly. “Unfortunate? Not exactly . . .”

  “But you were just complaining—”

  “Oh, not really complaining. Whenever I see children with their mothers, as I see these with you, then at first I feel sorry I have none. Yet—”

  “Arilla, what are you trying to say?”

  “Well, only that I console myself—”

  “How?”

  Arilla was gaining confidence. “Since you ask me—well, you, with your experience, ought to know. What does one have, after all, from children? A little joy at the beginning? Yes, possibly. I admit it. Yet later nothing but fear and worry. Care. Heartache. The little ones slip away from you, and finally they actually leave you. What’s the sense of the whole matter? What’s it all for? A mother is always the fool of her children!”

  Somewhere inside Genina there was a small sore spot; somewhere she sensed a breath of truth in Arilla’s words. But her uneasiness passed quickly. “You can’t talk about it, Arilla,” she said shortly. “You don’t know anything about it.”

  “Oh, yes I do,” Arilla insisted petulantly.

  “You haven’t the faintest idea,” Genina repeated with emphasis. “Remember, I told you once before that we two are badly suited for each other’s company?” She turned away. “Come, children!”

  Without further words she hurried off, her slim legs lifting proudly, the little ones dancing merrily by her side.

  Arilla stared after her and muttered, “Blind, stupid thing!”

  Genina wandered along the trail of the roes, coming presently to where Perri sat on a hazel bush cracking nuts.

  “Greetings!” the squirrel called.

  But before Genina could answer, Perri burst out admiringly: “What beautiful children! The darlings! You must be very happy, aren’t you?”

  “Indeed I am,” Genina replied.

  “You deserve it, my dear,” said Perri and continued eagerly: “I must tell you something! Just a moment ago I saw that ruddy rascal. He must have got a fine blow on the nose from somebody.”

  Genina straightened up. “From me.”

  “Oh, wonderful!” rejoiced Perri. “Good for you! He was sneaking away, thoroughly licked! Aren’t you brave! I’ll tell this story everywhere!”

  “Please do,” Genina encouraged her. “Let all the robbers beware of attacking my children.”

  “They’ll beware, all right!” Perri leaped to spread the tale.

  Chapter 26

  HIDDEN IN A NARROW HOLLOW thickly screened by bushes and shadowed by tall old oaks, Debina brought Tambo’s baby into the world—a male.

  With joyous excitement she washed her firstborn, carefully coaxed him to walk, delighted in his strong little body.

  Knowledge was revealed to her of which she had never before dreamed. All of a sudden she knew everything; one moment she believed she had always known, then again that her wisdom stemmed from her little son, that all her knowledge had come into the world with him.

  She decided to stay in her covert for a few days.

  A finch happened to alight in the branches of an elderbush. He sang his glad verse over and over again. Debina listened to him and imagined his song to be a welcome to her little son, a tribute to herself. “Thank you, my good friend,” she whispered to the finch. “It’s nice of you to greet us.”

  As a matter of fact, the finch had given no heed to either Debina or her young one. Yet her thanks flattered him. This young queen of the forest was so gracious, and spoke so warmly. He remembered the courtesy that the situation called for.

  “It’s a great honor for me,” he peeped, “that you notice me—a dwarf.”

  “You’re a wonderful singer,” Debina answered. “I’ll never forget your exultant song.”

  Immediately the finch fluted his melody three or four times in succession, now truly for the honor of the queen and the tiny prince.

  “Do you hear, my son?” Debina whispered. “Do you hear? The forest greets you! Life celebrates your coming!”

  The fawn swayed insecurely on his thin legs.

  “That’s right,” Debina encouraged. “Stout heart and sturdy legs, my child, and
soon you’ll leap and run!”

  The finch spread his wings and flew away.

  “Oh, now the singer is gone,” Debina exclaimed. “Maybe you scared him away.”

  The finch, however, had flown away because the squirrel had dashed down from the treetops.

  Perri rocked on the swinging seat of an oak limb and looked down at Debina.

  “So here is where you are?” Perri laughed. “Greetings! I’ve been looking for you.”

  “Greetings,” said Debina softly.

  “I wish you luck. What a splendid prince you have!”

  “You like my son?”

  “I should say so! He’s beautiful!”

  “I’ve had him only a few hours.”

  “Is this your first baby?”

  “Yes, my first.”

  Perri moved along the branch. “Well, I’ll bear the news to the proud father.”

  “No, no, please! Promise me, Perri—not a word to Tambo!”

  “Why not?” Perri was amazed. “Debina, I don’t understand you! Tambo is the father, isn’t he?”

  “Of course Tambo is the father!”

  “Well, then, why keep it secret from him?”

  “Why—” Debina grew confused. “I can’t explain it to you. . . . At least not so you’d understand. But don’t tell him. Please . . .”

  “All right, I’ll keep quiet.” The gossiping squirrel was disappointed. “But you’re extraordinary, Debina. Farewell.” Like red lightning, Perri rushed up to the treetop.

  Left alone, Debina whispered to her young one, “You’ll be my Tambo. My pride! My joy! Whether I’ll live to see the time when you’re a mighty ruler like your father—I don’t know. I hardly believe I will. Yet one gift you shall have from me, your mother. Majestic dignity—that will be yours. You’ll never forget who you are, what rank you have.”

  Little Tambo stood swaying helplessly. To him the eager whispering of his mother sounded like a dull roar. He understood nothing of what she said.

  Now the magpie came whirring in and took a seat on a bush. “Perri told me about your prince,” she began.

  Debina nodded, a little worried at how quick the news was spreading.

  “You’re not exactly cordial, Debina.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry—”

  “That’s all right.” The magpie was easily mollified. “I’m not angry.”

  “You have no reason to be.”

  “I like your son, Debina.”

  “I’m glad you do.”

  “When will you take him out?”

  “Not very soon.”

  “Don’t be foolish, Debina!”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean—after all—you can’t hide your prince, you know.”

  “I don’t want to do that. But for a few more days, I want to have him all to myself.”

  “But nobody will take him away from you.”

  Debina stiffened. “I wouldn’t let anyone do that!”

  “Well then? The prince must go out into the forest.”

  “But only a few days—”

  “He’ll be weak if he doesn’t move around. He must walk so that he can leap and run.”

  “You’re right. Oh yes, I—I know you’re right. I’ll take him out tomorrow.”

  “Good! You’ll have great success with him.”

  “I hope so.”

  “And don’t worry about Tambo.”

  “What makes you say that?” Debina felt her heart beat violently. Her ears jerked in alarm.

  “Well, Perri told me you don’t want him to know. But it’s unnecessary.”

  “Unnecessary?”

  “Tambo’s not going to concern himself with his son.”

  Debina began to tremble with a new and strange emotion. “Nor with me?”

  “Nor with you, Debina.”

  “I—I doubt that!”

  The magpie chuckled harshly. “Well then, you’ll find out. He’s too self-centered to care for anyone but himself.”

  “Then—” Debina’s soft voice quivered—“then he’s changed greatly.”

  “Not at all! After you left him he became again what he was before. A strutting coxcomb.”

  “That’s not so!” Debina defended Tambo hotly. “If it were, the whole forest wouldn’t pay him such respect!”

  “Respect? They all fear him for his strength. Fear! That’s all!” The magpie whirred off.

  The day inched onward. The rays of the sun shimmered singly through the foliage roof into the twilit covert. Debina was tired. She slept with the fawn pressed tightly to her. The little one too sank into a deep baby sleep.

  Debina awakened when the moon hung full in the sky.

  “Get up, little Tambo,” she roused the fawn. “Let’s go out.”

  Slowly she led and slowly he followed on wobbly legs. She slipped through the brush, holding the way open for the little one. It was some time before the path became wider and the thicket vanished except for a few bushes. At length they arrived at a clump of young trees.

  A few roes who were grazing about jerked their heads up and fled at sight of the hind. “Ba-uh!” they cried. “Ba-uh!” over and over again. “Ba-uh!”

  Little Tambo hung back. “Mother, what’s that?” his wee voice piped, thrilling Debina.

  “Our relatives, darling.”

  “Why did they run away, mother?”

  “We deer would be glad to know that ourselves, my child.”

  From a distance came: “Ba-uh! Ba-uh!”

  “Mother, why do they cry so loud?”

  “Because they’re frightened, precious.”

  “Why are they frightened?”

  “Because they saw us so suddenly.”

  “Are we ugly, mother?”

  “No, we’re very beautiful. You especially, my dear.”

  “Then why, mother?”

  “They think we’re dangerous. They’re afraid of us.”

  “But why are they afraid of us? Do we hurt them?”

  “We don’t hurt anyone, child.”

  “But then why—?”

  “I don’t know, darling. No deer understands it. But it cannot be changed.”

  “Why?”

  “I can’t explain it, son.”

  “Mother—”

  “Yes?”

  “Are they all afraid of us—all of them?”

  “No, only some, here and there.”

  “Who, mother?”

  “Who what, darling?”

  “Who is afraid of—of who?”

  “Sometimes a hare or a pheasant is frightened of us if we take them unawares.”

  “What’s a hare?”

  “Look around! You’ll see them yourself. Just keep your eyes open.”

  They came to the edge of the wood. A meadow stretched away before them.

  “Oh, I want to go there!” cried the little fawn.

  “No, no!” His mother blocked his way. “First I must make sure no danger threatens.”

  “What’s danger, mother?”

  “Something that may hurt you. There are many kinds of danger. We must be very cautious! Remember, my child, as long as you’re with me you may never—understand now!—never go out into open space before I do. You must always wait until I say you may.”

  Debina then sniffed very carefully, found the air clear and stepped out. Behind her, obediently, came little Tambo.

  By now he had a firmer step and as he came into the meadow he took his first leap.

  “Good for you, son!” his mother praised him.

  Some roes grazing in the meadow scattered. From all sides sounded their frightened cry. “Ba-uh! Ba-uh!”

  Little Tambo laughed. “Now I know what that is!”

  A hare sat up before him, both ears erect. Little Tambo jumped back to stare at the small fellow who said, “It’s only I, my lad. Your friend the hare.”

  Quickly little Tambo responded, “Greetings, friend hare!”

  “A handsome child you have, Debina,”
the hare said respectfully. “Good manners, too!”

  A few other hares ran to join them. “What a beautiful prince,” they said. “He has dignity already. Debina, our congratulations!”

  Mother and son continued their way happily. Soon they had crossed the meadow. “The hares are nice,” little Tambo piped.

  He stayed behind his mother as she entered the thicket where high trees obscured the moonlight.

  “Greetings!” called the gray owl. “A charming child you have there, Debina.”

  “I’m glad you like my son,” said Debina. She was never tired of compliments for him, never tired of acknowledging them.

  Little Tambo looked up toward the owl admiringly. This bird with feathered ears and shining eyes fascinated him. Timidly he ventured another “Greetings.”

  The owl hooted, “Greetings, young prince.” She turned to Debina. “Your son is polite. I approve of him!” She spread her wings and floated away. “Till we meet again!” she called back.

  Little Tambo stared after her. “Mother,” he asked, “she looks wise. Is she?”

  “She’s very wise,” Debina said. “No one in all the forest has such wisdom as the owl.”

  “Owl,” repeated the fawn. “Owl . . . owl . . . that’s a funny name.”

  “Yes,” Debina answered absently. “No! No, of course it isn’t! It’s a very fine name. And you should be proud that she praised you so highly!”

  They wandered deeper into the forest. Little Tambo laughed and frolicked. Debina was elated by the ovation given her child.

  A sharp evil scent suddenly filled her nose. She stopped and called, “Come close to me, little Tambo!” She knew that smell. The fox!

  Little Tambo too caught the bad odor and ran to his mother, his thin legs trembling.

  “Greetings, Debina,” barked the fox softly. “Don’t be afraid.”

  “I’m not afraid of you, Red,” Debina told him haughtily. Then she added, “Greetings.”

  “So you greet me again.” The fox leered. “I’ve never forgotten that you did so once before. And I never will.”

  “What do you want of me now?” Debina preserved her haughtiness.

  “Nothing. Except to wish you luck with your delightful child.”