The Greatest Gift

by Kallie George

  There was nothing Mona would like better than a roasted nut. But she shook her head. She needed the time to work on the rug.

  “Suit yourself,” said Tilly.

  As they headed back to the door, Mona took another glance at the prints in the snow. Sure, some of them belonged to Tilly. But others didn’t seem to. Could they belong to someone else? But who?

  After that night, Mona offered to take over the task of cleaning the vents. It was hard work, and Tilly was happy not to do it, plus Mona could keep her eye out for something—anything—suspicious.

  And then, one morning, she spotted something. She had just finished her task, when she froze. There, in the dim light, she could see a large shape in front of the Heartwood door—a VERY large shape!

  Fear coursed through her. Was it a wolf? A fox? She couldn’t quite see yet. But then, a second later, she could. It wasn’t a wolf or a fox. It was a deer!

  A deer would never fit inside the Heartwood! What was he doing here?

  “Hello?” she called out. “Hello!”

  But she was just a mouse and too far away for the deer to hear her. She had to get closer.

  As she did, she could see how small he was. And also, what he was doing! He wasn’t knocking on the door or waiting at it. He was eating it! Well, the wreath on it, at least.

  “Hey!” cried Mona as loudly as she could. “Stop that!”

  The deer’s ears twitched, and he turned to face her. He had big brown eyes, and his mouth was filled with a green bough, which he dropped in surprise. He stumbled backward, his hooves slipping on the path.

  “Oh!” he cried. “I didn’t mean…I wasn’t going to eat it. I mean, it looked so good, but I just was going to smell it, and then…”

  “That’s our wreath,” said Mona. “You can’t just eat the Heartwood wreath!”

  The deer nodded. “I know. I know! I…was…just…hungry.”

  “Oh,” said Mona, suddenly feeling bad. Actually, the deer did look thin—and young. “What are you doing here? Don’t you have somewhere to go?”

  The deer shook his head. “I’m a whole year old. It’s my first winter alone,” he said. “I was doing great. I even got my own job. I pulled the Duchess here all by myself.”

  “So that’s how the Duchess got here,” said Mona.

  “Yep, it was me! I was so good, I didn’t spill anything off her sleigh. She said I could pull her home when the snow melts.”

  “Home? But I thought she was going to a conference.”

  The deer blinked. “Maybe. I’m not so good at remembering. My parents told me all the places where I should go to get food, but I can’t remember any of them.” He sighed. “I guess, I guess I’d better go….” He trailed off, as if unsure where that would be. “Unless, maybe…Do you need any pulling? I’m good at pulling things.”

  “We don’t need any pulling,” said Mona and could see the disappointment in the deer’s eyes. “But, well…why don’t I ask Mr. Heartwood if we can help you.”

  “Really?” said the deer. “You’d do that?”

  “Of course,” said Mona. “Just wait here. What’s your name?”

  The deer gave a blank look, and Mona wondered if he’d forgotten that, too, but then he said, “Francis! My name’s Francis.”

  “I’m Mona,” she said, then headed through the front door, with a smile. Francis reminded her of Brumble the bear, who was forgetful, too, except the deer was a lot smaller and thinner. But not small compared to her or Tilly. Her smile turned to a frown.

  Mr. Heartwood wouldn’t be happy about this. A deer was a very big mouth to feed. But when she glanced back, as she stepped through the door, she could see every one of poor Francis’s ribs. And she was pretty sure that Mr. Heartwood wouldn’t be happy about that either.

  No one, after all, had a bigger heart than Mr. Heartwood.

  The Heartwood lobby was quiet except for the crackling of the fire that lit the room. On the front desk stood a sign: RING FOR SERVICE. Behind the desk, Mr. Heartwood’s door was slightly ajar and light spilled out.

  “Mr. Heartwood?” Mona said softly, pushing the door open a little more.

  He was there…but he wasn’t working. He was snoring.

  The badger’s big head was on his wooden desk, one paw on top of a letter. Although the letter was facedown, Mona could still read the stamp:

  SQUIRRELS’ DELIVERY SERVICE

  She took a hesitant step forward, filled with curiosity.

  “Ack, no, no! Jay, don’t go,” Mr. Heartwood mumbled. “That can’t be your news….How on earth could they ever lose…?” He snorted and thumped his paw on the letter. Mona took a startled step backward.

  She was considering fetching Gilles when Mr. Heartwood sat up, jolting awake of his own accord.

  “Miss Mona the mouse, maid of the house!” he said. “What brings you here at this early hour?”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry to disturb you, Mr. Heartwood,” she said. “I can go.”

  “Not at all,” said the badger. “It’s a difficult thing, to shake off the sleep that hibernation time brings. I was expecting much more time for napping, but, well…as you know, we have more guests than we can count.” He consulted a ledger on his desk. “Twenty-four ants, four doves, seven rabbits, including the Duchess. It’s a good thing she didn’t bring any of her staff along with her.”

  “Actually, Mr. Heartwood, that’s why I’m here.” Mona explained about Francis. When she was done, Mr. Heartwood gave a mighty sigh.

  “I could tell him to go,” said Mona. “I didn’t promise anything. I didn’t know what to do.”

  “No, no,” said Mr. Heartwood, “he may stay. Though because of his size, he must shelter outside.”

  He sighed again, and glanced up at the striped hat that hung from a hook on a wall—the one he’d worn as St. Slumber. “To think already two months have passed since the St. Slumber Supper. I could use another night of celebration like that. Free of care and unaware…”

  Unaware of what, Mona wasn’t sure, but a party sounded good. She replied “Me too,” and she smiled thinking about finally finishing the rug and presenting it to him. That would be like a mini St. Slumber’s celebration—and she was sure it would cheer him up. Only a little more and it would be done. She couldn’t wait until that night, when Tilly would be asleep and she could get to work.

  But Tilly, it seemed, would never fall asleep. Mona’s friend was fuming about Francis. “Seriously, Mona! Another guest!” she groaned from her bed. “I can’t believe Mr. Heartwood said we’d feed him!”

  “But he’s really sweet,” said Mona.

  “Do you know how much deer eat? Like, five seedcakes in one gobble.” She sighed. “It’s a good thing I like you,” she muttered. Finally her friend stopped tossing and turning. And, a moment later, started to snore.

  The moment she did, Mona got up very, very quietly. She knelt down and pulled the rug out from underneath her bed. It was getting so big, she had to fold it in two for it to fit. The twine, most of it made from thin strips of pounded bark, was surprisingly soft, and sunshiny gold. Maybe it will remind everyone of the sunny days coming, thought Mona. She was really proud of it.

  She reached back under her bed for more twine but couldn’t feel any. Was she out again? She had used up so much! All the twine from the gift-giving, and all the spare twine she could find in the garden shed, too. She’d even scavenged a few scraps from the kitchen. She’d have to try the storage room again. Maybe there was some twine tucked away at the back that she’d missed. If she hurried, she might even be able to finish the rug tonight!

  Carefully, she folded the rug in two again and tucked it back under her bed. The bedroom door creaked as she opened it, but Tilly didn’t stir. Mona shut it behind her as softly as a sigh.

  Everyone was in their rooms now. Even the kitchen was dark. But still she tiptoed. She didn’t want to wake anyone. When she reached the hibernation hall, however—the one place where everyone really should be in bed—
she was startled to find someone up.

  Two someones, actually!

  Two small spotted shapes were slowly crawling down the hall in the dim lantern light.

  Then she saw a third, staring up at the lantern hanging from the wall, his antennae slowly twitching back and forth like the hands of a clock.

  “Mr. Dotson, is that you?” said Mona, recognizing his particular nightcap, which was red with black polka dots, just like his body.

  But Mr. Dotson didn’t reply. He just gazed at her dreamily. He wasn’t really awake at all. He was sleepwalking. Mona gently directed him back to his room, along with the other two, Mrs. Dotson and their daughter, Dotty.

  Luckily, the rest of the ladybugs were sleeping in their suite, shifting back and forth only slightly in their little beds. After settling the three back under their blankets, Mona crept out of their room, wondering what had roused them.

  There were still a few weeks left on the calendar until hibernation time was over. Probably more, with it being so cold outside. Of course, it wasn’t as cold deep down here. Actually, it wasn’t cold at all….

  Mona gulped. The vents must be blocked again! The snow WAS falling fast….

  Forget the twine! Mona hurried back down the hall. As she passed the storage room, she felt cool air coming from its doorway.

  That was strange. If some of the vents were blocked, shouldn’t they all be? Unless…unless her earlier suspicions—the ones she’d dismissed as silly—were true: a thief was sneaking into the Heartwood from outside!

  A thief with claws that scritch-scratched at night and left pawprints in the snow.

  And if the vent in the storage room was cleared right now, that could only mean one of two things! Either the thief had just left—or he was still there right now!

  Mona froze, fear bristling up and down her fur. What should she do? If the thief was still there, could she catch him? Was she brave enough?

  She listened, to see if she could tell if the thief was still inside, when there was a voice behind her.

  “What are you doing here, Mona?”

  It was Tilly, standing behind her.

  “Shhh,” said Mona quickly.

  “What’s going on?”

  Mona hushed her again. “Tilly, it’s the thief,” said Mona, in a whisper. “I think the thief’s in the storage room….”

  Tilly crossed her arms. “A likely story.”

  “It’s the truth!” said Mona.

  “I don’t think so. I think you’re lying to me.”

  “I’m not!”

  “What are you doing down here in the first place, then?”

  “I—I…can’t explain that right now,” stammered Mona. “There’s no time.”

  But Tilly didn’t stop, “You haven’t had any time for me lately. We didn’t go skating or roast nuts. What are you up to, Mona?”

  “Nothing!” said Mona, feeling her cheeks flush. “Well…”

  “Don’t tell me, then. I thought we were friends. Friends share everything. You’ve been sneaking around with all sorts of secrets. I’m not friends with a sneak.”

  “I’m not a sneak!” cried Mona. “I’m only sneaking around because of YOU!”

  “ME?!” exclaimed Tilly. “What do you mean, ME?! Are you saying that I am the thief?!”

  “No! That’s not what I meant! I…” But now Mona wasn’t sure what she meant. After all, Tilly had been sneaking around all the time, too. And she did eat a lot! Mona was bristling with anger and confusion when…

  THUMP!

  A loud noise stopped them both. And it was coming from the storage room!

  Mona and Tilly stared at each other, wide-eyed. Tilly’s tail bristled.

  “I told you,” whispered Mona.

  “Shhh!” said Tilly.

  They waited, but the sound did not come again, so Tilly scampered to the storage room, Mona behind her. They pushed aside the curtain, entering just in time to see a shadow at the back of the room flit between two rows of food.

  “Hey! Stop!” shouted Tilly.

  But the thief didn’t. Instead, it—for Mona couldn’t make out whether it was a he or she, or even what kind of animal it was—turned, ran, and leapt right into the wall.

  Right into the vent.

  “Oh no you don’t!” cried Tilly, speeding down the aisle, almost tripping over a spilled box of nuts, obviously the cause of the thump. Mona chased after her.

  When Tilly scrambled into the vent, Mona did, too. The tunnel was dark and musty. Tilly only just fit, and Mona got a faceful of fur. Still, Tilly moved forward, fast, worming her way up, up, up.

  Mona couldn’t get a glimpse of the thief through Tilly’s giant tail. What kind of animal was it? What kind of animal stole? Not a good one, that was certain. Should they really chase after it? Shouldn’t they tell Mr. Heartwood? Shouldn’t they get help? She should tell Tilly to stop. But it was too late.

  Tilly had reached the knothole at the top of the vent and dove out onto the snow, setting off after the creature who was speeding away across the sea of white.

  A blast of cold shook Mona from head to tail, but she jumped out, too, and rushed forth. The thief was in the distance, a large dark shape, and Mona still couldn’t make out what or who it was.

  Mona raced after Tilly and the thief, through the courtyard (which wasn’t actually a courtyard anymore; the blackberry walls were completely buried by snow), past the bushes where Francis was sleeping (she could just see his nose peeking out), and into Fernwood Forest.

  Although Mona ran as fast as she could, she quickly fell farther and farther behind. She was just a mouse, after all. Would she lose sight of them altogether?

  Mona had never been this deep into the forest before, never been farther than the Heartwood. She had no idea what she might find.

  Now, in the silvery light of the moon, she was discovering—pools of frozen water, giant trees, and bushes covered in ice and snow, but not just that: a wreath woven from thin twigs, hanging from a bush. A chimney sticking out of a snow-buried stump. A doorknob poking from the side of a tree, near a large branch. Small hints here and there of other animals hidden away.

  But there were fewer and fewer signs as the thief plunged down a snowy bank and sped over an icy part of the stream, Tilly right behind it.

  Mona slipped and slid but didn’t fall. There is a certain balance that comes when a small animal’s heart pounds, a certain phenomenal strength and speed—and how Mona’s heart pounded! Not from fear so much as anger, anger at this thief, and even at Tilly.

  It was just like Tilly to leap into something without really thinking about it! If they got into big trouble, it would be all Tilly’s fault. At least now Tilly could see it wasn’t HER who was stealing food. That she wasn’t lying. But those things wouldn’t really matter if they were both attacked by the thief or lost in the snow!

  Fear outweighed anger when all at once the thief disappeared into a large snowbank. Where had the thief gone?

  Not long after, Mona understood. The mound of snow was actually a giant buried log, the top edge just peeking out from a heavy layer of white. It was the thief’s lair!

  “Stop!” Mona cried out to Tilly.

  But it was too late. Tilly dove in after it.

  And Mona followed. She plunged into the hole in the snow and into darkness, landing with a thud.

  She blinked and took a few cautious steps as her eyes adjusted.

  There in front of her lay Tilly, splayed on the dirt floor of the log. Towering over her was none other than the thief!

  A rat!

  Mona had seen rats before, but never any as fearsome as this. His tail was scarred, and one ear was ripped in two. His fur was matted from the snow, and through it she could see his bones. He was thin like Francis, but unlike Francis, he didn’t look frail. His sinewy muscles were all flexed. Even his tail was flexed, and his teeth, long and white and sharp, were bared.

  Tilly was trembling.

  “Now you’ve done it!” th
e rat said in a raspy voice.

  Mona swallowed a squeak and scoured the floor, and—much to her surprise—found just what she needed. A small, sharp twig. She grabbed it and pointed it shakily at the rat. She was trying to summon her courage to use it if he lunged, when a tiny piping voice shouted:

  “Please! Don’t hurt Hood!”

  Mona glanced around, her eyes adjusting even more to the darkness. She gasped. Surrounding her were animals—young animals, only a few seasons old. There were three raccoons huddled together, sucking their claws, and a roly-poly porcupine with a bandage on her paw, as though perhaps she’d pricked herself with her own quills. Two little rabbits were sitting near the log’s entrance. One was clutching a toy—a whittled wooden carrot. And now Mona saw that’s what she was holding in her paw, not a stick, but another wooden carrot! Beside the rabbits stood a red squirrel, half the size of Tilly, with a bushy tail that was bigger than his body.

  “Please, don’t hurt Hood,” he said again.

  “Hood?” said Mona, dropping the wooden carrot back on the ground.

  “That’d be me.” The rat turned to face her, and she was surprised again. His hunched back and grizzled fur had led her to believe he was old, but his face was young, though he was missing half his whiskers.

  The little squirrel ran over to him, and the other animals soon joined them.

  “Are you okay, Hood? Are you? Are you?” came a chorus of tiny voices.

  “I’m fine,” said the rat, his gaze shifting between Mona and Tilly, who was slowly getting up. “It was…a misunderstanding.”

  The little animals seemed to relax, and quickly gathered around Mona and Tilly, bombarding them with questions.

  “Who are you?”

  “Mona,” she replied. “I’m a maid at the—”

  “Why are you here?”

  “I was following—”

  “Are you a friend of Hood’s?”