“Do you want to see our house?”
“Yes, show them our house, Hood!” replied one of the rabbits, and the others agreed. “Show them! Show them!” they chanted.
Reluctantly, the rat clambered up on a chair and lit a lantern above them. He waved a paw around the log. “Welcome to Hood’s Home for Orphaned Animals.”
Now Mona could see that it was a home…the strangest home she had ever seen. Everything was sideways!
On the wall opposite her was what once must have been a beautiful fireplace, but it was completely on its side. Instead of housing flames, it held blankets and some toys. A bookshelf lay beside it, with all the shelves running up and down rather than left to right.
On the ceiling was a door! Hanging from the doorknob was the light that the rat had lit. And to Mona’s left, once a ceiling, was a wall with a hole in it, from which another small animal peered: a little mole.
This had clearly once been a beautiful home—grand like the Heartwood. But it had fallen over long ago.
Instead of the smell of buttery seedcakes or roasted nuts, the only smell here was a faintly rotting one, and instead of the sounds of a crackling fire and song, there was only the creaking of the ceiling, groaning under the weight of the newly fallen snow.
Despite these differences, one thing was very similar to the hotel. Above the fireplace, a sign hung from the wall, sideways though, and Mona tilted her head to read it.
WE LIVE WITH LOVE AND LAUGHTER,
NOT WITH SNARLS OR GROWLS.
It reminded Mona of the sign that hung in the Heartwood lobby. Mona was filled with questions and was about to ask some of them when the little red squirrel pointed to the sign.
“See! You can’t hurt Hood. It’s a rule. You know. No biting or fighting. No pinching or pricking. Not even if you have quills.”
At this he looked over at the porcupine, who replied, huffily, “I know, Henry. I never MEAN to prick you.”
“Really?” Henry humphed.
Before he could say anything else, Tilly cried, “Henry?” She pushed past Hood. “Henry, is that you?”
The little red squirrel’s tail bristled out wide, just like Tilly’s always did when she was excited.
“Tilly!” he cried.
“I knew it! I knew it, I knew it, I knew it!” The little squirrel dashed into Tilly’s outstretched arms. They fell over onto the floor, but they didn’t care. They were laughing and hugging and rolling around while Mona and the others watched in amazement.
“Now, that just takes the cheese, doesn’t it?” Hood said, gruffly.
“What takes the cheese?” asked the mole. “What does, Hood?”
“Henry’s found his sister,” replied the rat.
“I told you I’d find her!” exclaimed Henry, who was still clinging to Tilly’s side.
“I found you, you nutcase!” Tilly said back, rubbing the fur on his head till it stood on end.
Mona felt a pang of wishing and wondering. She couldn’t remember anything about her family. But then she thought of the smell of seedcakes and soft whiskers kissing her good night. Well, maybe she could remember a little.
Her thoughts were interrupted by Hood, who said, “Who’d’ve thought Henry’s sister was there, right at the Heartwood, where I’ve been every night.”
“So you ARE the thief! My brother’s been staying with a thief?!” said Tilly.
“Hood’s not a thief. Honest, Till. He saw the coyotes chasing me and led them away. He brought me here. Hood’s a hero. He saved me!”
Tilly was taken aback, and turned to the rat. “You did?”
Hood shrugged. “Coyotes are bad. The wild is worse.” He brushed his paw to his missing whiskers.
“Well. I still want you to explain,” said Tilly, crossing her arms.
Mona wanted to know, too.
“I’ve only ever taken what wasn’t really needed,” said Hood slowly.
“’Cause you were like us, right, Hood?” said the porcupine. “You were an orphan, too.”
“Tell the story!” said one rabbit.
“Tell it, Hood,” said the other.
Hood nodded. “Maybe that’s easiest.” He straightened up and closed his eyes. “It was a long time ago now, during a hot summer. There was a fire….”
“A fire like a wolf,” interrupted Henry. “Worse! ’Cause it ate animals AND trees. It was the scariest thing ever. But Hood knew what to do. He ran from his home toward the stream. The fire chased after him, but Hood and his family got away.”
“Not my parents,” said Hood. “My brothers and sisters and I were orphaned. So were many others.” Hood closed his eyes.
“But it was okay,” said Henry. “’Cause Hood gave them a home. Well, at first it was hard to find a good one. He searched all over the place.”
Mona couldn’t help but remember her own search, one that had eventually led her to the Heartwood. If she had found Hood and his group, would she have stayed with them? Her life could have been very different….
Henry continued. “Then, one day, Hood was walking along a log, and WHOOMP! He fell into it! Right through the ceiling.” The little squirrel pointed with a paw up to a spot that was patched up with bark and now sagged under the weight of the snow. “Through THIS ceiling. And he was SO surprised, because he had landed in a big old fancy house that had fallen over. It was perfect.” The patch in the ceiling groaned. “Well, mostly perfect,” said Henry. “And safe from fires and wolves and coyotes….”
“And completely out of food,” said Hood. “Usually I can scrounge some, but the snow makes it impossible….”
As though the weather were listening, the wind wailed through the hole they had used to get into the log. All the animals tensed, Mona included.
Hood gestured around him. “I figured if one grand home could shelter us, another could feed us. The Heartwood wouldn’t miss a little food.”
“You’re wrong. We did miss the food,” said Mona. “This winter has been hard for us, too.”
“Hard?” said Hood. The tree groaned again. “I shouldn’t have stolen, that’s true, but perhaps you and I have different ideas of hard.”
Mona gulped as she looked around at the faces of the little animals. Hood was right. She hadn’t been hungry for a long time. She had a cozy bed to sleep in. She had a crackling fireplace to warm herself by. She had even celebrated St. Slumber’s Supper.
None of these animals had, that was certain. There were no gifts of crumble or fancy aprons here. These animals needed the Heartwood and all that it offered: warm beds and a crackling fire, buttery seedcakes, and Mr. Heartwood dressed up in his pajamas. Kind, generous Mr. Heartwood. Sure, he was worried about food, but there was the shipment coming, and he wouldn’t want these animals here alone and hungry, would he? Mona took a big breath.
“You didn’t need to steal. You could have just knocked.”
“Really?” said one of the little moles.
“Can we just knock? I want to knock!” cried another.
“My momma used to say there was a whole room of games at the Heartwood.”
“And a whole room of honey to swim in, too!”
“Not a room,” said Mona. “But honey does always flow at the Heartwood.”
The orphans’ eyes went wide with wonder.
“But don’t you need farthings to stay there?” piped the little mole.
“You do,” said Hood, shaking his head. “We can’t go.”
“This is different,” said Tilly, glancing at Henry. “This is an emergency. Mona’s right.”
Mona smiled. At least Tilly agreed with her.
“I don’t know,” said Hood. “I’m not looking for charity. I would rather manage on our own here. I wouldn’t know how to explain…”
“Don’t worry,” said Mona. “I can explain for you. We just need to get to the Heartwood. Everything will be fine. I promise.”
Creeeeeeak. The log groaned again.
After a long pause, Hood nodded. “I gu
ess we don’t have much choice.”
All the orphans cheered. Some even jumped up and hugged Mona tight. Tilly, too, and Tilly and Mona exchanged a hesitant smile. They hadn’t spoken, not really, since the fight. I’ll explain everything when we get back, thought Mona. No more secrets.
Everything was going to work out fine, she thought.
The log, however, continued to creak and groan above them, as if it had its doubts.
The walk back to the Heartwood was long and cold. The snow swirled around them, thicker now, whipped about by the wind. It was dark, darker than before, even though it would be morning soon. Any trace of the moon was blocked by the falling flakes. Hood and Mona led the way, while Tilly and Henry took up the rear, obviously sharing stories, though now was not really the time. Hood urged them all to hurry, and to stay together. The thicker the snow fell, the harder it was to see.
As they passed a large snowbank, the mole, who was walking with Mona, said, “I smell something! Seeds and nuts and cheese. Is it the Heartwood?”
“Not yet,” Mona said, squeezing his paw. “You’re just imagining it.”
“Nuh-uh! I bet Henry smells it, too! He’s got the best nose!”
“You can ask Henry once we reach the Heartwood, Matthew,” said Hood. “No time to stop now.”
Mona smiled and glanced back, but she couldn’t see Henry or Tilly. The snow was falling too thick, too fast. She was glad they had left Hood’s Home when they did. She hoped the Heartwood was close. For a moment, Mona thought she smelled something, too. Now SHE was imagining things.
Her stomach began to rumble. When had she last eaten something? Not for a while, and she dreamed, as you do when you are hungry, of her favorite meal—a big buttery seedcake and a mug of hot honey.
It was early morning when they finally arrived at the Heartwood, but no one could stop the excitement of the orphans, who after expressing their delight over the secret heart-shaped lock that opened the front door, burst into the lobby in a flurry of snow and shouts.
“A fireplace!” cried one of the rabbits, staring at it. “A real fireplace. And it’s right-side up.”
“And LOOK. There IS a staircase, straight up to the stars!” cried the other.
“It’s SO big!”
“And SO beautiful!”
They began jumping on and climbing over everything immediately. But Hood looked wary and stood near the door.
Mona remembered feeling apprehensive herself when she had first entered the Heartwood so many months ago. It seemed like all the orphans were accounted for, except for Henry. She was just waiting for him and Tilly to come in when there was a voice: “Now, now, what can this be? What guests arrive at quarter to three?”
Mr. Heartwood strode from the hallway into the lobby. He was wearing his nightcap, but his keys still hung around his neck.
Was he up working? Mona wondered. But it was so late. Actually, early!
The orphans froze at the sight of the big badger. Mona was about to explain when there was another voice.
“Indeed. What is going on here? How dare you disturb my slumber? Rest at the Heartwood—humph.”
Standing at the top of the staircase was none other than the Duchess, wearing a long nightgown and wielding her eye mask like a scepter. The Duchess sniffed and surveyed the scene in the lobby. “And what ragtag group is this?”
The orphans, gathering together, gazed up at her in amazement.
“We’re no ragtag group,” said Hood, stepping into the lobby at last. “We’re from an orphanage. Hood’s Home for Orphaned Animals. And I’m Hood.”
Mr. Heartwood’s eyebrows rose.
“I invited them here,” said Mona. “They need food. They were the ones who were taking, well…”
Mr. Heartwood’s eyebrows rose higher.
“Not ones—just me,” said Hood. “I was planning to repay you for everything come spring.”
“Repay what?” shrieked the Duchess. “What IS going on?”
Mr. Heartwood looked very grave. He was shaking his head. But instead of saying anything to Hood, he turned to Mona.
“Miss Mouse, is this true? Is their coming due to you?”
Mona nodded proudly. “I knew you wouldn’t mind, Mr. Heartwood, that you’d see they’re really hungry. And they weren’t safe. I couldn’t leave them in their house. It was going to collapse.”
But then, all at once, she could tell something was terribly wrong. Instead of smiling and agreeing, Mr. Heartwood shook his head and gave Mona a stern look.
“Oh Miss Mouse, tonight of all nights. But of course, how were you to…?”
“What do you mean?” said Mona. “What’s going on, Mr. Heartwood?”
“I demand to know, myself,” said the Duchess. “At once!”
“Yes, of course. Miss Hazeline, please head to the ballroom, where all will be explained to you. I was gathering everyone there, the staff, as well as the hibernators.”
The Duchess crossed her arms and strode toward the hall, but Mona’s ears were buzzing.
“What do you mean, about the hibernators?” she whispered, almost afraid to ask.
“They’re up,” said Mr. Heartwood. “They’re up, and they’ve eaten everything.”
They were up.
The ballroom was full of the hibernators, half-awake, in their nightclothes, and covered in crumbs. Mr. and Mrs. Dotson and Dotty, as well as the rest of the ladybugs, were spread out across a table, like a black-and-red spotted tablecloth.
The toads, rubbing red-rimmed eyes, were sitting with the chipmunks, who looked like they hadn’t just eaten honey but had bathed in it, and no amount of nettle-stem napkins provided by the laundry rabbits could help clean them up. The smallest chipmunk was the biggest mess. Not only was he sticky, he had a terrible case of bed-fur. Mr. Gibson, the groundhog, was searching the room and muttering, “No shadow. No shadow in sight. Must be still sleeping, sensible thing…” while the turtles trundled after him, confused, asking, “Is it shadow-spotting time? So soon?” Even the hedgehogs, Mr. and Mrs. Higgins, were up, looking extremely befuddled.
“What is going on?” Mona overheard Mrs. Higgins ask Ms. Prickles. “Why did no one wake me to warn me of the problems…?”
“You were awake, Mrs. Higgins,” replied the porcupine. “You were awake and eating all my roasted acorns. It was the heat, you see….”
So it was the vents! Mona knew the snow had been blocking them. She should have told someone, but then she heard Hood, and there was no chance. Tilly had come and, well…Where was Tilly? Mona glanced around, but didn’t see her. Instead, she noticed Hood and his orphans clustered at the back of the room, looking out of place. Hood had offered to repay Mr. Heartwood for the food in the spring—but that wouldn’t help right now, if the hibernators had eaten all the food! But surely there was some left.
Her thoughts were interrupted by Mr. Heartwood’s booming voice.
“Staff and guests, my apologies to all.” His voice resounded in the room, as he stood on the stage. “But I am here with grave news.” He took a deep breath. “The Heartwood Hotel has run out of food.”
“No food!” shrieked Duchess Hazeline. “It cannot be!”
“No honeyed carrots?” said Maurice the laundry rabbit.
“There were honeyed carrots?” repeated the little rabbits.
“This must be a joke!” cried one of the doves.
“I know a joke,” said Matthew. “It’s Henry’s favorite. Henry, Henry?” The little mole squinted his eyes.
“Hush,” said Hood. “This isn’t the time for jokes. We need to fix what we’ve done….”
“No, no. It’s our fault,” said Mr. Dotson from the tabletop. “If only we hadn’t woken….”
“Don’t blame yourselves. It was the—” started Ms. Prickles.
“That snow! It’s to blame! It just keeps falling and falling,” said one of the ants.
“Enough,” commanded Mr. Heartwood. “No more pointing paws—or antennae. We can’t wor
k with what-ifs. We must work with what is. And that means staying here at the Heartwood and sharing what little we have left. We can melt snow for warm drinks, and make do with the few stores in the kitchen and in the rooms.”
“Until the shipment comes, of course. Right, Mr. Heartwood?” said Gilles.
“I am afraid that is the other news I must share with you all,” said the badger. “I received a letter a few days ago. Our shipment was stuck in a snowbank. When the squirrels tried to move it, the sleigh broke. They had no choice but to abandon it. I have no clue where it is, and even if I knew, we could not go out and fetch it. I did not act upon the news before now, as I hoped that our food would last until the snow ceased and we could safely search for the shipment. But the snow has not stopped, and our food has run out. I wish I could give you better news. But I cannot give what I do not have.”
Mona gulped and glanced over at the orphans. She’d done just that, promising them food and shelter. Now what? What would they do? What would they all do? Her stomach twisted with knots.
The Duchess had an answer. “I shall depart at once!” she cried. “I should never have left my burrow in the first place. Some Heartwood.”
“And we Dove Tones can return to the city,” said Dimitry. “There is always food to be scavenged there.”
“We will leave, too,” added Hood. “But—”
“I don’t want to,” said one rabbit.
“Me neither,” said the other, and burst into tears. Soon all the orphans were crying. Everyone was yelling now, and Mona’s ears hurt.
“You can’t leave!” said Mr. Heartwood, instantly silencing them all. “No one must leave in this snow, I insist. It is too dangerous. Together we will find a way with the little we have.”
For a moment, Hood looked convinced. But then a second later, he replied in a louder voice. “I must leave.”
“Unexpected as you were…I—” replied Mr. Heartwood.
“I must leave,” interrupted Hood. “I have to!”
“There, there, dearie,” said Ms. Prickles. “We forgive you. It’ll be all right. It’s surprising what I can do with a salty stone and some water.”
The Greatest Gift Page 5