The moment the animal caught sight of her, it came to a clumsy stop and blinked. “What the bee’s butt are you doing here, fur ball?” it snarled.
Poppy, wishing she knew what kind of animal she was facing, could only whisper, “It’s just me, sir.”
“The name is Ereth,” the animal snapped. “Erethizon Dorsatum. But I just get called Ereth. What’s more, I’m a grump and you just woke me up, so don’t try to slick me down with slug slop.”
“I’m truly sorry I woke you, Mr. Ereth,” Poppy said.
“What are those things on your head,” the beast growled, “flat balloons or ears? The name is Ereth. E-R-E-T-H! And stop your barking.”
“Please . . . Ereth, it’s not me barking.”
“Then who the frog flip is making that racket?”
“It’s a fox at the entrance to the log.”
“Some idiot friend of yours?”
“Oh no, sir. Not my friend.”
“Who the dung beetle bit are you, anyway?” Ereth suddenly demanded. “You’re so small I can hardly see you.”
“I’m a deer mouse. A girl deer mouse.”
“I didn’t ask what you are. I don’t give bug’s bathwater about that. I asked for your name.”
“Poppy.”
“Poppy? What kind of idiotic name is that?”
“Please, it’s a family tradition. We’re named after flowers and fruits.”
“Erethizon Dorsatum is my name. Latin name. But you kids don’t learn Latin anymore, do you?”
“I don’t know what Latin is, sir, I mean, Ereth.”
The beast sniffed loudly. “The whole forest is full of idiots. Like that fox.”
During this conversation the fox had continued to bark and whine, occasionally even digging furiously at the log entrance.
“Pop, fop, snop,” Ereth cried, “or whatever your idiot name is, would you tell that fox to shut up!”
“It’s Poppy. And if I tell him, I don’t think he will.”
“Why not?”
“He wants to eat me,” Poppy said faintly.
“Eat you?”
“Yes.”
“Jerk,” Ereth said scornfully. “But then all meat eaters are jerks. Ever notice that? I mean, did you ever meet a meat eater who wasn’t loud and aggressive? Did you? Never mind, just get out of here and leave me alone.”
“I can’t,” Poppy cried.
“Why the bat bilge can’t you?”
“I just told you,” Poppy pleaded. “If I go out, he’ll eat me.”
“Look here,” Ereth cried, “whatever your idiot name is—don’t you have any guts?”
“Please, it’s Poppy.”
“Oh, weasel wonk, I don’t care what it is. All I’m saying is, if a creature can’t take care of himself, he has no business sneaking into my house, waking an old coot like me in the middle of the day, and asking for my help.”
“I never asked you for your help,” an exasperated Poppy replied. “Can’t you understand anything? That fox chased me. Do you think I like being in here? It stinks!”
Ereth blinked. “Oh, all right,” he growled. “I suppose I better talk some sense into that meat mauler. Just get out of my way!” he snarled as he began to waddle forward. “It’s your lookout, not mine, if you get pricked by one of my quills.”
Poppy’s heart clutched. “Did . . . did you say . . . quills?” she stammered.
“Of course I said quills, fuzzball!”
“Yes . . . but . . .”
“But what?”
Poppy was dizzy with fear. Her knees shook. She found it hard to swallow. “What are you?”
“Don’t you have eyes?” Ereth screeched. “Or are those spots on your face buttons? I’m a porcupine!”
Porcupine! The word turned Poppy numb. She could hardly breathe. She could not think.
“Floppy or Ploppy,” Ereth bellowed, “will you get your flea-flicking self out of my way!”
Poppy dived against the pulpy wall of the log and squeezed herself flat to allow Ereth room. Even so, as the porcupine waddled by, his quills raked across her belly like a rusty comb. Never—despite all she’d confronted—had Poppy been so terrified.
Ereth, however, continued to make his ponderous way toward the log’s entrance, where the fox was still barking and yelping.
Poppy felt sure that once the fox was disposed of, the prickly monster would turn on her. First he would shoot her with his quills. Next he would stab her. Then he would skewer her. Finally he would chop her into tiny bits and eat her!
For a moment Poppy considered offering herself to the fox. If the choice was between being swallowed in one gulp or being tortured by this porcupine, surely death by fox would be preferable.
Poppy stared into the darkness of the log. Perhaps there was an escape hole. But, frozen by the terror of her predicament, she could not move. Instead, her eyes turned toward the entrance, certain she was about to witness some ghastly carnage.
Sure enough, when Ereth reached the log opening, Poppy heard him screech, “Fox, you braying bag of bones, what’s all this hullabaloo? Can’t an old creature get some quiet in his own home?”
“I’m sorry, Ereth,” Fox returned in a voice that was, at best, sniveling. “I didn’t know you were here. Just trying to grab a mouse who ran into your place. A snack. Nothing more. Not trying to bother you. No harm meant. Just a midday nibble.”
“Don’t nag me about your nibbles, you nitwit,” Ereth bellowed. “When I say get lost, I mean do it!”
“Now, Ereth, let’s be—”
Fox did not finish the sentence. Instead, Poppy heard Ereth cry, “I said, Get, broom tail!” This order was followed by a whack, a yelp of pain, and a frantic scramble of paws, concluding with a barking and whining that grew faint with amazing rapidity.
Poppy was sure the fox was being devoured. But more frightening still, she saw the porcupine wheel about and start to waddle back down the log in her direction. Poppy panicked. She turned and fled toward her one hope of escape, the log’s other end.
The farther into the log Poppy went, the more foul-smelling it became. Worse, she had increasing difficulty seeing where she was going. Sure enough, she slammed into the log’s far end. There was no escape hole.
Stunned and unsteady on her feet, heart beating so hard she was sure it would burst, a terrified Poppy turned to confront the porcupine. Her one remaining hope was to try and slip by the beast. Though Poppy knew she risked a severe shredding, she was certain it was her only chance.
“Slop, Pop, or Bebop,” the porcupine cried, “where the snake sweat are you? Come out of there!”
Gasping for breath, Poppy braced herself against the rear wall of the log and got ready to bolt and die.
Ereth’s face, grinning hideously, loomed out of the dark at her. “Poppy,” he cried, “you wretched excuse for a runt, why the devil are you hiding in my toilet?”
CHAPTER 12
What Poppy Learns
“DON’T STAB ME!” Poppy cried through chattering teeth. “Don’t kill me!”
Ereth blinked. “What?” he said.
Poppy staggered forward, fell to her knees, held up her paws, and bowed her head. “Don’t eat me!” she implored.
“What the lice lips are you talking about?” Ereth asked with genuine bewilderment.
Poppy gazed up tearfully. “If you’re going to kill me, do it quickly. Just don’t torture me, please!”
“Why would I want to torture you?”
“Because that’s what porcupines do when you catch mice. You torture them and eat them.”
“Eat mice!” Ereth exclaimed. “Hit the puke switch and duck! Meat disgusts me. Nauseates me. Revolts me. I’m a vegetarian, jerk. I eat bark.”
“Bark?”
“You saying I’m a liar?” the porcupine roared.
“Well, no, except—”
“Except nothing. I’m kind. I’m gentle. I’m old. All I want is to be left alone.”
“You won’t e
at me?”
“I don’t eat meat!” Ereth bellowed into Poppy’s face.
Poppy gulped. She was beginning to feel very foolish. “Well,” she offered lamely, “everybody thinks you do.”
“Well, then everybody eats grasshopper gas.”
“They do?”
“How many times do I have to tell you,” Ereth screamed. “I DON’T EAT MEAT!”
“But—but,” Poppy stammered, “didn’t you just eat that fox?”
“Are you crazy or something? All I did was swat him with my tail, which is what I do when creatures get fresh with me.”
“What about shooting your quills?” Poppy asked. “Or—or stabbing with them?”
“Where’d you hear this bat bilge?”
“I—I was taught.”
“Poppy—that’s your name, right?—quills are hair. Barbed hair. I can’t shoot my quills, though they fall out easy enough. The only way a quill gets into you is because I slap you. Which I’ll do if you mess with me. Mind, when a quill gets into you, it swells. Flex your muscles to get it out, and the barbs draw it in deeper. Hurts like the red-hots. Want to see for yourself?”
“No, please! Please! I believe you,” Poppy cried. “I just didn’t know that. Really. I’m sorry.”
“Probably isn’t your fault,” Ereth grumbled in a somewhat softer tone. “I suppose you get taught that garbage in school.”
“We go to school at home,” Poppy explained. “Lectures. And tests.”
“Who’s the world-class idiot who told you that porcupines eat mice?”
Poppy was about to say her parents when she suddenly realized something she hadn’t thought of before. She began to speak, but, fearful of saying the name, she held back.
“Well,” demanded Ereth. “Who?”
Poppy leaned forward. “Mr. Ocax,” she whispered.
“Ocax!” Ereth yelped. “The great horned owl? Him?”
Poppy nodded. “He told my parents and they told us.”
“Ocax . . . ,” Ereth said, and he began to laugh.
“What’s so funny?” demanded Poppy.
“Let me get this straight,” Ereth said. “Ocax told your folks that porcupines eat mice?”
“Well, see, Mr. Ocax protects us from porcupines. What’s so funny about that?”
“Poppy,” Ereth said between fits of sputtering laughter, “he’s the one who eats mice! And if there’s one thing that jerk of an owl is frightened of, it’s me.”
“You?” Poppy cried with astonishment.
“Listen, Poppy, nobody messes with Erethizon Dorsatum. Nobody. Fool with me and I’ll shove a quill up your snooter. The only thing that old owl wants is to protect himself. Why, he wouldn’t get within a log’s length of me. I may be old and fat, have a foul mouth, and smell, but I can shake my tail and put it in his face! Yours, too. Want to see?”
“No,” Poppy replied quickly. “I believe you, Ereth. Really I do.”
“Protects you from porcupines . . . ,” Ereth said with a sneer. “Frog flip! But if you believed that, what the worm water are you doing here?”
“I was trying to get to New House,” Poppy explained. “And honest, that fox did chase me.”
Ereth snorted. “But you said Ocax told you to be scared of me, is that right?”
Poppy nodded.
“Poppy,” Ereth said, “running in here was smart.”
“It was?”
“Sure. The truth is, you could walk by the side of a lake, with no place to hide, if I were there. That jerk of an owl would do no more than look at you.”
“Really?” Poppy said, feeling a great sense of relief.
“If there’s one thing I like beside being fat, sassy, and prickly to the touch, it’s going where no one wants me to go. Fact is, I’m one of the few creatures in Dimwood who can protect you. I bet that’s the reason he says all that earwig juice about me.
“As for New House, don’t talk to me about going. Just go. I never tell anyone what I do.”
“Don’t you have any family?”
“Oh, I had parents. And a wife. For a while there we even had kids. Quite a nice bunch. They all wandered off. We all go our own ways. Prickly.”
“Don’t you miss them?” Poppy asked.
“I like being alone. If I see a tree I want to climb, I climb it, chew some bark, then get some sleep.”
“Isn’t there anything in the world you love, really love?”
At the word love, the look on Ereth’s face turned dreamy. He sighed. “Yes,” he admitted. “There is.”
“Who is it?”
“Not who, Poppy. Salt. I can’t get enough of it. I’m mad for it. I’d die for it. It’s because of my liver, someone told me. I don’t care. I love it. Rock salt. Sea salt. Sweat salt. Any kind of salt.” He licked his lips. “Don’t happen to have any on you, do you?”
“I’m sorry, I don’t.”
“You were talking about New House. You have any idea what’s there?”
“That’s what I need to find out.”
“I’ll tell you one thing that’s there.”
“What?”
“A chunk of salt as big as me. Humans put it out for deer. Can you believe it, deer! But it’s on a high steel pole, so I can’t get it. What a waste. Oh, but I do dream about it. I do.” He closed his eyes.
“I think Ragweed would have liked you,” Poppy said with admiration. But even as she spoke, a great wave of exhaustion swept over her. “Please, Ereth, would you mind very much if I took a nap?”
“Poppy, you can do what you want. But if I were you, I wouldn’t sleep where you’re standing. As I told you, it’s my toilet, and it’s too stinky even for me.”
CHAPTER 13
Early Morning
WITHIN THE LOG, but not too far from its entrance, Poppy found herself a soft place to sleep. There, curled up in a tight ball with her tail tip parked right below her nose, she felt safe enough to sleep. When she awoke after a long, sound slumber, it was dark and quiet. She got up slowly and stretched her aching muscles, then looked about for some sign of Ereth. The old porcupine was nowhere to be seen. Was he gone for good? Not likely, Poppy knew, but he might be gone for hours.
She also knew she was hungry. Cautiously she made her way to the log’s opening. It was night, and she could see neither sky nor stars. A silver sheen of moonlight made lace of the canopy of trees above even while transforming the ground into a carpet of velvet gray. She sniffed the air. Mingled with the sharp scent of pine and fir, she breathed in delicious hints of good things to eat: nuts, berries, seeds, fragrant flowers, tender roots.
There were sounds, too: the creak and groan of trees, the sudden, shrill cries of animals, the occasional fuzz-buzz of passing bugs.
Poppy could only feel astonishment. This was not Dimwood the forbidding. This was Dimwood the beautiful, a luxuriant world that teemed with life, a universe that held more than she had ever seen or dreamed of, a paradise that filled her with an almost aching desire to dance through it and see more.
Trembling with excitement, Poppy was about to take a step away from the log when she chanced to look up. On the gray, lifeless tree with a hole on its side, an acorn toss from where she was, perched a brooding owl.
The moment she saw the owl, Poppy darted back into the safety of the log. There she stayed, her heart thudding. Had the owl seen her? She did not think so. Could it, in fact, be Mr. Ocax? If it was, how could he have tracked her? But perhaps it was another owl. She had to know.
In any case, her elation was gone. The forest was not to be for her. She sighed at the fright she felt.
Poppy tried to calm herself. First she pondered over her discovery that Mr. Ocax had lied about porcupines. At least she did not have to be frightened about them. In spite of herself, she giggled when she thought about Ereth. Such a likable unlikable creature.
Then she thought of what else Ereth had told her, that Mr. Ocax was actually afraid of porcupines. The notion that the owl was afraid of anything gave
Poppy considerable pleasure. Perhaps he was afraid of other things as well.
So Poppy thought again about her suspicion that there was something at New House that alarmed the owl. Oh, if only there was. If only she could find it.
Feeling more hopeful, Poppy returned to the log’s threshold to wait for Ereth. She wanted to take another look at the owl but was afraid to. Instead she sat, content for the moment to gaze out at the beautiful forest.
The owl Poppy had seen was indeed Mr. Ocax. He was perched upon the entrance to his home, flexing his sharp talons and staring gloomily into the forest. Now and again he swiveled his head and blinked, then clacked his beak. Hungry, he wished that something—anything—would reveal itself by moving.
Once, just out of the corner of his eye, he thought something moved at the entrance to the old log that lay not far from his snag. But it was gone so fast he could not be sure.
Was it the porcupine? He hoped not. He hated Ereth. Just the thought of him made Mr. Ocax drop down inside his snag. Better to sit in the darkness and listen than deal with that creature. If something came by, he would hear it.
“When are you leaving for New House?” Ereth asked Poppy. The old porcupine had made his way back to the hollow tree before sunup. Bits of bark were stuck about his lips, chin, and whiskers.
“Soon,” Poppy replied evasively.
“Good,” Ereth said. “You’re a sweet kid, but I like my privacy.”
“Ereth,” Poppy began after a moment, “I know you want me to go, and I want to go, too, but when I looked out before, I think I saw an owl.”
“On that snag just beyond my door?” asked Ereth.
“The what?”
“The old tree with a broken top.”
Poppy nodded. “There was an owl sitting there,” she said. “I was told Mr. Ocax lives in Dimwood. Could . . . could that be him?”
Ereth snorted. “Follow me.” Somewhat anxiously Poppy trailed the porcupine out of the log. “That the snag you’re talking about?” Ereth said, pointing.