Poppy

by Avi

“Yes.”

  “Well, then, that’s where Ocax lives.”

  Poppy jumped back. “There?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Don’t you mind?” Poppy whispered, edging closer to Ereth.

  “Naw. He’s a jerk. Anyway, he doesn’t get near me.”

  “But he rules this whole territory.”

  “Him? Rule? Maggot milk.”

  “But . . . but it’s true.”

  “Poppy,” Ereth snorted, “there are lots of creatures who live around here. Some are mean, like Ocax. Some are sweet, like me. Nobody rules.”

  “But he says he does.”

  “Oh, bee’s burp. Just because you’re scared of someone doesn’t mean you have to believe him.” Ereth turned toward the snag. “Ocax!” he bellowed. “Ocax!”

  “No,” Poppy cried, “don’t!”

  It was too late. Mr. Ocax popped up in his snag hole. In a panic, Poppy scrambled to hide behind Ereth’s tail.

  “What do you want?” Mr. Ocax demanded.

  “I’ve got a mouse here by the name of Poppy who says you’ve been calling yourself ruler of Dimwood. That true?”

  Instead of answering, Mr. Ocax shifted his head, trying to catch a glimpse of Poppy. When he saw her timidly peeking from behind Ereth’s tail, he jutted his head forward, opened his eyes wide, and hissed.

  Ereth laughed. “She also told me you claimed porcupines eat mice. That you protect them from me. Ocax, do you believe that garbage, or do you just like the way it tastes in your mouth when you say it?”

  Suddenly Mr. Ocax’s eyes narrowed. “Where did you get that earring, girl?” he shrieked at Poppy. “That something I ate?”

  Poppy became so frightened she began to back up.

  “What I eat is mine, girl, mine!” Mr. Ocax screamed.

  “Listen here, Ocax,” Ereth snapped. “This mouse has as much right as you do to go and do what she wants! I don’t want you messing with her!”

  But Mr. Ocax, ignoring Ereth, only cried, “Poppy, listen to me! I don’t know what you’re doing here, but you might as well know the only way you’ll ever get back to Gray House is when I dump your dead carcass on your father’s front porch!” With that he clacked his beak, then dropped down inside the tree.

  Alarmed and furious, Poppy ran forward and began beating her clenched paws on Ereth’s nose. “You lummox!” she cried. “You lump! You rattling pincushion!”

  The porcupine only grinned.

  “Why did you tell him about me!” Poppy shouted. “Didn’t you hear what he said? He’s going to kill me!”

  “Oh, he’s nothing but feathers. He doesn’t bother me.”

  “But you’ve got quills,” Poppy protested.

  “Jealousy don’t become you, girl.”

  “Ereth,” Poppy implored, “I have to get to New House. It’s a matter of keeping my family alive.”

  “You’re pretty small to be a heroine.”

  Poppy looked down at her toes. “That’s not the only reason I’m going.”

  “Oh?”

  “It’s also because of Ragweed.”

  “Who?”

  “Ragweed. He was . . . my friend.” Poppy sniffed. “See, he wanted to ask me to marry him atop Bannock Hill. Said it was the most romantic spot around.

  “I did want to marry him, so I said I’d go, but only after asking permission of Mr. Ocax. That’s the rule. But Ragweed said, ‘Where’s the romance when you have to ask permission?’

  “So we went without asking. When Ragweed and I got to the top, he did ask me to marry him, but before I could answer, Mr. Ocax killed him.

  “Then, later, the owl said it was because Ragweed and I went to the hill without permission that my family couldn’t move to New House. When they heard that, a lot of them—most of them—blamed me.”

  Poppy pushed the tears away. “So you see, I’m going to New House to prove our being on the hill had nothing to do with Mr. Ocax’s refusal. If I don’t prove it, my family can’t go to New House and we’ll be ruined. I’ll be ruined! So I have to go. Only now that you’ve told Mr. Ocax I’m here, he’ll follow me and keep me from finding the truth. You’ve got to come with me.”

  Ereth shook his head. “Sorry, kid, this is your business, not mine. Anyway, I need to get some sleep.” Yawning, Ereth turned and began to move toward the log.

  “Ereth,” Poppy cried out, “if you got me to New House, I’d—I’d get that salt for you.”

  Ereth stopped short and spun about. A dreamy look filled his eyes. “The salt lick? From New House? The whole thing? You would? Really?”

  Poppy placed a paw over her heart. “I swear.”

  Ereth grinned. “Now you’re talking, girl. Let’s move it!” Without a moment’s hesitation he began to lumber through the woods.

  Poppy took one look at the snag in the dawn light, then tore after the porcupine.

  The two of them had barely gone when Mr. Ocax popped out of his hole. Having heard the entire conversation, he wasn’t sure which he felt more, fury or fear. But he did know he had to stop Poppy. He launched himself into the air.

  CHAPTER 14

  On the Way to New House

  THE OLD PORCUPINE MOVED faster than Poppy thought possible, body swaying from side to side, quills rattling like a snare drum.

  The trail Ereth took was narrow but smooth, avoiding hills, tangles, and fallen trees. From time to time Poppy saw other animals: weasels, a raccoon, a ferret, and, once, a bear. As soon as they caught sight of Ereth, they hurried away in haste.

  Poppy bounded along after Ereth, pausing now and again to gaze upon the endlessly enticing forest with delight and amazement. In low places, white ground mist eddied gently, while above, in the high trees, the early sun sowed golden sparks among dark leaves. But once, while Poppy was staring wide-eyed at a particularly towering tree, she caught sight of what appeared to be a brown blur swooping among the pines. Her joy melted.

  “I think Mr. Ocax is following,” she called to Ereth.

  Ereth, however, did no more than grunt and press forward.

  Poppy caught up with him and from then on stayed as close as possible. But with every third step she glanced back. Finally she actually saw Mr. Ocax. He was high above, gliding through the treetops on widespread wings like a silent phantom.

  “He is following!” Poppy cried.

  “Bug brain,” Ereth mumbled.

  Then, no matter how much Poppy searched—her neck grew strained from so much turning and twisting—she lost sight of the owl. At last she decided he had gone. More relaxed, she paused now and again to take in the forest views.

  It was while she stopped to sniff a Scotch broom plant that Mr. Ocax, out of nowhere, made a dive at her, talons flashing.

  “Ocax!” Ereth bellowed. Without looking, Poppy leaped toward Ereth for protection.

  The porcupine, for all his bulk, whipped about and lifted his tail, prepared to strike with his quills. Mr. Ocax pulled up short and, hissing venomously, flew aloft and vanished.

  “That was close,” Poppy panted. She was trying to see where Mr. Ocax had gone. “What made you notice him?”

  “Poppy, if you think there’s anything that’s going to keep me from that salt, you don’t know me.” Once more the porcupine trundled along the trail.

  “Ereth,” Poppy panted, straining to keep up, “I’m certain Mr. Ocax wants to keep me from New House. There must be something he doesn’t want me to see.”

  Ereth stopped abruptly and gave a snort. “Poppy, some creatures aren’t worth trying to figure out. If they bother you, what I say is, swat ’em with your tail.”

  “Ereth, not every tail has quills.”

  “You’re right. I shouldn’t hold yours against you.” He set off again.

  “Ereth,” Poppy said after a while, “if I could just find out what it is that Mr. Ocax is frightened of and tell my family, I wouldn’t care what happened to me.”

  Ereth laughed sarcastically. “Even if it kills you?”

&nbs
p; “Well, no, but—”

  “Poppy, if you don’t stay alive, the only thing you’ll be good for is maggot mash.”

  As they traveled farther, Poppy noticed that the trees were growing less dense. There were greater varieties of flowers, too. As the brightness intensified, Poppy guessed that they were reaching the northern limits of the forest.

  “Ereth,” she said, “when we get out of the woods, where will we be?”

  “First there’s a dirt road and an old barn. Then a field of corn. Beyond the field is some low grass, then the buildings where the people live. There’s also a new big barn. That’s for chickens.”

  “What are people like?” Poppy asked. Other than pictures in the magazines back home, she had never actually seen any humans.

  “They don’t bother me.”

  “Do they dance a lot?”

  “What’s dancing?”

  “It’s gliding, swirling, dipping, and sliding with someone you like.”

  “You are strange,” the porcupine said. “Now, don’t try to distract me. On the short grass—not far from the cornfield—is the salt lick. You figured a way to get it for me yet?”

  “Ereth, I haven’t even seen it,” Poppy answered.

  “It’s beautiful, Poppy,” Ereth murmured, “really beautiful.”

  They had reached the northern edge of Dimwood Forest. Beyond the last of the trees, Poppy saw a dirt road. Even farther was a dilapidated barn—smaller than Gray House and considerably older. It stood on the edge of the field, leaning over slightly. The field itself was full of tall stalks bearing plump and tasseled ears of corn. Tossed by a gentle breeze, row upon row rustled and whispered with heavy ripeness.

  Ereth trotted across the dirt road.

  “Come on, move it,” the porcupine scolded once he looked back and saw Poppy on the other side.

  “I’m checking for Mr. Ocax,” Poppy called across, though since the owl’s one attempt to grab her she had not seen him. Deciding he was either gone or hiding, she darted across the dirt road and rejoined Ereth.

  “Let’s go!” the porcupine cried, and plunged into the cornfield, beating his way through the stiff stalks. Poppy paused now and again in his wake to snack on fallen corn, which lay about in great quantity.

  Compared with the fallow fields the mice scoured near Gray House, the profusion of food here was a marvel. Back home, the food the family had access to took long hours to find, and there wasn’t that much of it. Here was food enough to feed a family twice their size. Was it this rich field that Mr. Ocax wished to hide? Did he want her family to go hungry? All that searching for food out in the open did make them more vulnerable.

  “There!” Ereth cried, when they finally burst through the far side of the cornfield. “Look!”

  Poppy sat up. Before her was a neatly cropped grass lawn. Not far from them stood a smooth shiny pole as high as a cornstalk. It was capped by a large block of white salt.

  “Isn’t that something,” Ereth whispered. Poppy glanced at her friend. He was drooling.

  Now that Poppy could see what she had promised to bring Ereth, her heart sank. How in the world would she be able to do it? It was perfectly clear that even if she could manage to get the salt off the pole, it was too huge for her to carry.

  The problem itself was too huge to carry. With a sigh, Poppy looked farther. Beyond the salt lick was a white house. It bore some resemblance to Gray House, but its paint was bright and its windows were newly curtained—signs that suggested that people were living there. Was this what Mr. Ocax didn’t want them to know about?

  Poppy turned to the left and saw a red barn. It was considerably larger than the house but had only a few windows. The roof was highly pitched and covered with sheet metal. At the front end of the barn the roof jutted out to form a door hood. Poppy gasped. Sitting right below the overhang near a large, closed window was an owl—an owl twice the size of Mr. Ocax.

  CHAPTER 15

  Alone Again

  ERETH MOANED SOFTLY. “Isn’t that the most luscious thing in the whole world?” he asked, gazing at the salt lick.

  Poppy, whose eyes were fixed on the enormous owl, could hardly speak. “It’s awful,” she barely squeaked.

  Ereth turned to her. “What are you saying?” he demanded.

  “Look!” cried Poppy, trembling, as she pointed to the owl on the barn.

  Ereth turned, looked. “Never noticed that before,” he grunted.

  In wonder, Poppy murmured, “Mr. Ocax is only half that size.”

  Ereth shrugged, then went back to gazing at the salt. “Well, girl,” he said, “have you figured out how you’re going to get that salt for me?”

  Poppy, still in a state of shock, managed only to shake her head.

  Ereth took one last, loving look at the salt and turned. “You know where to find me,” he said. “Don’t let me down.” With that, he began to waddle away.

  “Ereth!” Poppy cried, her fearful trance broken. “Wait!”

  The porcupine peered around peevishly. “What now?” he grumbled.

  “You aren’t just leaving me here, are you?”

  “What else am I supposed to do?”

  “Help me,” Poppy said in a small voice.

  “Poppy, we made a deal. I’d get you here. You’d get me that salt. I’ve done my part. Now you do yours.”

  “But—”

  “No buts,” Ereth snapped, lashing his tail in irritation. Poppy backed away. “I’m going home now, but I’ll be waiting.” With a final glare, he said, “Keep your promise, fur ball,” and marched off.

  Poppy started to run after him but tripped on something and fell flat. When she got up, Ereth had disappeared among the corn.

  An unhappy Poppy dusted herself off. It was then that she noted what had tripped her. It was one of Ereth’s tail quills. When he’d flounced his tail, it had fallen out.

  Poppy picked the quill up gingerly. She’d never really looked at one closely before. It was mostly black and made of long, fused hairs, just as Ereth had said. One end was blunt. The other end, the sharp end, was ivory white. With fascination, Poppy examined the tiny barbs. The point, which she was unable to resist touching, was frightfully sharp.

  She was about to toss the quill away when she had an idea. Grasping it by its blunt end, she swished it about a few times. It moved nicely. Like a sword.

  Poppy found a tall blade of grass, plucked it, and tied it around her waist in sash-like fashion. With care, she slid the quill under this belt. It fit comfortably. Then she drew the quill out a few times to see if it came free easily. Though a single quill was not the full arsenal that Ereth carried, it was something. She only hoped she’d never have to use it.

  Reluctantly, Poppy turned her attention back to the enormous owl on the barn. The bird had not moved but was still sitting on its perch, gazing off into the distance with huge eyes. Poppy was relieved it had not turned her way.

  The realization that at any moment the owl might turn and discover her made Poppy retreat into the corn, but not so far that she’d be unable to peer out. Once hidden, she tried to make sense of her situation.

  It was all very well to have reached New House. But now that she’d arrived, she still had no real clue to why Mr. Ocax would not permit them to move here. All she had seen was this huge owl. Could his reason have something to do with that?

  Poppy tried to think it through. An owl of this size would be ferocious. Perhaps Mr. Ocax was worried that this bird would steal his food. It certainly would eat a lot.

  The truth was—and Poppy forced herself to acknowledge it—this huge owl made moving here impossible. Mr. Ocax was bad enough. This owl looked twice as bad!

  Then Poppy had a new thought: Was Mr. Ocax really trying to protect her family? Had she been wrong about him all along?

  But then, perhaps this owl was not really living here at New House? Simply because she was seeing it now proved nothing. It could be passing through, perhaps just spending the night.

&nbs
p; The sun was up now. Poppy decided she had best settle in, and wait to see what—if anything—happened.

  CHAPTER 16

  The Truth at Last

  IT WAS SOME TIME before she sensed movement in the house. It appeared as vague forms stirring behind second-floor lace curtains, then shifted to the windows below. The front door opened. A tomcat poked his head out. He looked around, stepped outside. The door shut behind him.

  He was a large, bony orange cat, with the pinched body of advanced age. One ear was bent. He walked slowly, limping slightly, glancing up at the sun as if to measure its warmth. But by keeping his tail high, he maintained a stately dignity.

  Poppy held her breath. Surely the huge owl would notice the cat and realize the old beast had little fight in him and less speed. It would be no trouble at all for the owl to snatch him up.

  Nonetheless, the cat continued to saunter casually toward the barn. He stopped once, then twice, to scratch himself stiffly under his chin. When he reached the barn, he sat directly below the owl. Squinting, he looked into the sun, then lay down and closed his eyes. Through all of this the owl did nothing.

  It made no sense. But Poppy kept watching. The cat slept. The owl remained motionless. The field of corn rustled.

  Once again the house door opened. This time a human emerged, a boy. In his hand he held a long stick with a string and a small hook attached to it. Momentarily, he stood on the threshold of the door, apparently listening to something being said from within. He nodded, and shut the door. Then he started off on the same path the cat had taken, toward the barn.

  Poppy, who had never seen a real person, watched with fascination. Surely, she thought, the owl would fly away the instant it saw this human coming. Big as the owl was, the boy was much bigger.

  But though the boy drew nearer and nearer, the owl remained motionless, its open eyes fixed on something distant.

  The boy reached the cat, bent over, and patted it. The cat flipped his tail, but continued to sleep. Then the boy looked up at the owl. He showed not the slightest surprise to see it there. Instead, he put down his stick and went inside the barn.