She had reached the first of the many zigzags that she had previously noticed. Another ledge, a little higher, cut back in the other direction. It would take her farther along.
Standing on tiptoes and pressing her plump belly against the cold stone, Poppy extended one paw up as far as possible, and then grasped the edge of the higher ledge. It crumbled, bringing a small shower of pebbles onto her head. A second try was successful.
Tightly grasping the ledge, Poppy pulled herself up so that she was dangling from one paw. She reached up with another paw. Hanging by two paws now, she summoned all her strength and, pushing with her rear legs, pulled herself to the next higher ledge.
Panting hard, but safe on this third ledge, Poppy sat, rested, and caught her breath.
Once refreshed, Poppy moved on, going upward at a steep angle. She glanced at the beam of light. It was now pointing down, a sure indication that the sun was higher in the sky. It must be midmorning. As the day progressed, the cave would eventually become dim and then dark. If Poppy knew one thing, it was that she did not want to climb in the dark.
She hurried along the ledge. It narrowed, but it took her a good way up before coming to an end.
Poppy looked down only to discover that she was much higher than she had thought. The pointy rocks below no longer seemed beautiful, but menacing.
A tremor of nervousness swept through her. “It’s a good thing I’m going up,” she told herself, “because I won’t be able to get down.”
Unless I fall.
Poppy began to tremble so much she had to sit. “Foolish mouse,” she scolded herself. “Coming up here was not smart. I need to accept that I simply cannot do everything I want anymore. At least, not alone.”
She licked her lips. Her tail and whiskers twitched. She felt cold. She made up her mind not to look down. Or back. Or anywhere but up.
Forcing herself to stand, she stole a glance up toward the hole. It still seemed very far. Not that there was a choice. She had to continue going higher—except it now felt as if she had a very long way to go. The realization made her feel tense.
Taking a deep breath to calm herself, Poppy reached up and wedged her paw into a small crevice. The rock pinched, but her paw held. Using her rear toes to push into the rock, she lifted another paw and searched for a crevice higher than the first. Not finding one, Poppy glanced up—only to slip a little. Her heart pounded. To steady herself, she pressed her body against the rock.
Not daring to look, Poppy again reached higher and searched with her paw for another hold. After much fumbling, she located a small crack, gripped it, and pulled.
Though higher up, the climb was beginning to make her feel dizzy. Still, Poppy knew she had to continue on. Which she did. Slowly. Painfully.
Then, like a bubble bursting, Poppy’s strength collapsed. She could not go up any higher. All she could do was cling to the cold rock. As she hung there, suspended, her paws began to ache. A painful cramp seized one of her legs.
Her grip weakened. She started to slip. A frantic snatch at the rock proved useless. The rock gave way. Poppy began to drop.
“Help!” Poppy screamed as she plummeted toward the rock teeth below. “Help!”
CHAPTER 14
Poppy and Luci
AS POPPY PLUNGED, she felt a sharp pinch on her back. She was no longer falling. Gasping for breath, heart pounding, she twisted around and looked up. Luci was holding her.
“Miss Poppy,” said Luci, “are you sure you can’t fly?”
“Really, I…can’t,” Poppy managed.
“Then how come I keep finding you up in the air?” asked Luci. “I mean, how do you get there?”
“I was going up but then fell,” Poppy explained.
“No offense, Miss Poppy, but Mom is always saying, ‘Luci, always decide which direction you want to go—up or down.’”
Poppy sighed. “I’d like to go down.”
“Okay,” said Luci. The bat glided down to the floor of the cave and set Poppy loose.
Poppy stood up on weak hind legs and looked about. The light was softer now, and Luci was nowhere to be seen.
“Luci?” Poppy called.
“Over here.”
Poppy turned. Luci was hanging upside down from one of the stone cones.
“What I don’t understand,” said the bat as if hanging upside down was a perfectly normal way to have a conversation, “is, if you can’t fly, how did you manage to get up so high on the wall?”
“I climbed.”
“Climbed! Why would you ever do that?”
“I was trying to go home,” Poppy admitted, slightly embarrassed.
“Please don’t go home yet,” said Luci. “I told everybody about you. They really want to meet you. We never have visitors. Would you be willing to meet some of them before you go?”
“Can I walk?” Poppy asked, greatly comforted that Luci had at least acknowledged that she would be leaving.
“Much better to fly.”
“What time is it?”
“Almost noon,” said Luci.
“Promise not to drop me?”
Luci giggled. “Miss Poppy, no offense, but you’re the one who keeps falling.”
“All right then,” said Poppy.
Luci spread her wings, dropped down, gently pinched Poppy’s furry back, and lifted the mouse into the air. In moments, the two were flying through the cave.
Now Poppy could see that the cave was much bigger than she had imagined, filled as it was with endlessly strange shapes and formations. It also extended in countless directions, like the branches of a tree. Luci, however, seemed to know exactly where she was going. She swooped, turned, and entered a dark tunnel, emerging at the other end into a spectacular space: a great domed area with golden arrows of light streaming down from above.
The beams shone on an almost perfectly round lake, its blue-green surface eerily translucent and surrounded by a beach of what appeared to be white sand.
“Where does that light come from?” Poppy asked.
“Small holes in the cave roof,” replied Luci. “Oldwing says this place used to be a volcano.”
“Who’s Oldwing?”
“Our leader. Anyway, we can fly in and out up there, but it’s easier to use that big entryway.”
“Where do you all stay?” asked Poppy.
“Look around!” cried Luci.
Poppy looked and saw that the walls of the cave were covered with bats huddled together upside down, clinging to the walls. She could hear a multitude of squeaks and rustling noises.
“Welcome to my home,” said Luci, as she glided down to the beach.
“Is this sand?” Poppy asked.
“Salt,” said Luci.
“Salt!” I must tell Ereth, thought Poppy, only to be distracted by a great fluff and flutter of leathery wings as a large number of bats dropped down all around her. As they landed, they drew their wings up to their ears and hunched over, their beady-bright eyes focused on Poppy.
Like Luci, these bats were covered with brown fur. They had stub noses on flat, dour faces and large, pointy, twitching ears.
Wanting to show her good manners and friendly intentions, Poppy sat up on her hind legs, smiled, took a deep breath, and, in her most cheerful voice, said, “Hi! My name is Poppy. I’m a deer mouse. I live in Dimwood Forest.”
The bats stared at her with their bright eyes. Now and again ears flicked, and occasionally one of them opened a mouth, as if yawning. That’s when Poppy noticed the bats’ teeth—and how sharp they were.
CHAPTER 15
On Bannock Hill
BY MORNING a few leaves on the Bannock Hill hazelnut tree were burning steadily. It was enough flame to cause the thin branch upon which the leaves had grown to catch fire.
The small flame continued to burn, moving along the branch like a long, slow fuse, moving—by midday—ever closer to the trunk of the tree.
CHAPTER 16
Spruce
AS SPRUCE AND JUNI
OR walked slowly from Ereth’s log toward their own underground home, the young mouse kept looking up at his father’s sad face, then turning back to consider the porcupine. After a while Spruce said, “Dad—”
“Spruce,” said Junior, his voice low, “please be quiet. I have a lot to think about.”
“But, Dad, I need to say something.”
Junior stopped. “Spruce, we just heard some very disturbing news about Grandma Poppy. I am trying to—”
“But, Dad,” Spruce interrupted. “I know why Grandma Poppy was flying.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Yesterday Grandma and I went for a walk. First we looked for foxes. Then—“
“Are you telling me you and Poppy went looking for a fox?”
“Yup.”
“Spruce…do you know how you often make up stories, and how exaggerated they are?”
“But—”
“As we’ve told you many times, it’s really not a good habit.”
“No, listen, Dad. Grandma said a mouse has to do what a mouse has to do.”
Junior sighed. “Where did she get that notion?”
“Your uncle Ragweed.”
Junior shook his head. “Spruce, you don’t know anything about him.”
“I do, too. Because I look like him,” continued Spruce. “But see, Grandma Poppy wanted to do something, so I bet she decided to learn to fly, and—”
“Spruce,” Junior cut in, “what Uncle Ereth said was that Poppy…died.”
“But, Dad!” cried Spruce.
“Spruce, let’s just get home.”
When they reached the entryway to their underground home, Junior paused. “Now, Spruce, I have to talk to your mother. Alone. But I want you to promise me something.”
“Okay.”
“Please, do not tell your brothers and sisters that Grandma Poppy died. If it is true, I need to explain things my way—not yours. Can you promise me?”
“But, Dad, I really think Grandma got lost because—”
“Spruce! Just do as I ask: do not tell your brothers and sisters Grandma Poppy died.”
“Okay, because she—”
“Thank you!”
Junior led the way into the hole, where he gave Spruce a hasty nuzzle and then went down the main tunnel in search of Laurel. “Remember what you promised!” he called back.
“All she did was fly,” Spruce muttered to himself. “And she got lost because she’s so old.”
The young mouse went into the children’s den, where he found his brother Lodgepole rolling mud balls and piling them up into a pyramid. For a moment Spruce just watched. Compared to Grandma Poppy’s flying, making mud balls seemed pretty dull.
“Guess what?” Spruce announced.
“What?” said Lodgepole, not turning away from his work.
“Grandma Poppy learned to fly.”
Lodgepole looked at his brother. “Yesterday you said you and Grandma Poppy were looking for a fox.”
“We were.”
“Mice don’t go looking for foxes,” said Lodgepole before turning back to his mud balls. “And mice can’t fly.”
“Grandma Poppy did,” insisted Spruce. “I’m not making it up. Uncle Ereth saw her flying. Only she got lost.”
Lodgepole looked at his brother again. “Why would Grandma Poppy fly?”
“A mouse has to do what a mouse has to do.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Instead of answering, Spruce said, “I’m calling a meeting. Get everybody together.”
“What for?”
“We have to find Grandma Poppy.”
Twenty minutes later, Spruce had managed to collect only three of his siblings: his brothers Lodgepole and Dogbane and his sister Clover.
Spruce repeated what he had told Lodgepole about Poppy. “See, she just learned to fly, but Grandma Poppy is real old so she got lost.”
“When you’re old,” agreed Clover, “you shouldn’t go anywhere far.”
“Actually,” said Lodgepole, “we’re young and we don’t go far either.”
“Listen to me!” cried Spruce. “We have to find her!”
“Spruce,” said Lodgepole, “everybody knows you make up stories.”
“Because you’re the runt of the family,” added Clover, giving him a push.
“I’m not making this up!” cried Spruce, pushing back. “Uncle Ereth saw her flying.”
“I met him,” said Dogbane. “He’s old, too.”
“Yeah,” added Lodgepole. “And he smells.”
“We have to find Grandma,” Spruce insisted. “And we should start looking by Glitter Creek.”
“Shouldn’t we tell Mom and Dad we’re going?” asked Dogbane.
“If you do,” said Spruce, “it won’t be a surprise when we bring Grandma home. What kind of fun will that be?”
“I don’t care about the fun,” said Clover. “I just think we should tell them where we’re going.”
“But Spruce is right,” said Dogbane. “It would be cool to find Grandma and bring her home.”
“She’d really like it if we found her,” Spruce insisted. “But if none of you want to come, too bad. I’m going myself.” He marched off.
The three remaining young mice looked at one another. “How come Spruce always thinks he knows everything?” said Clover.
“Ma says he’s a small mouse with a large imagination,” said Lodgepole.
“Maybe this time he’s right,” said Dogbane, and he followed Spruce.
Lodgepole and Clover remained. “They’re going to get into trouble,” predicted Clover.
Lodgepole turned back to his mud balls. “Big trouble.”
CHAPTER 17
Ereth Chooses
ERETH DECIDED Poppy’s funeral service had to be in the perfect place. Large enough to hold her whole family. More importantly, it needed to be where each of them could see and hear what he had to say.
After much hard thinking, he recalled a secluded dell open to the sky yet surrounded by trees. He remembered it as being carpeted with green grass and clover. Butterflies and bees floated about, along with the occasional dragonfly, flashing its rainbow-tinted wings in the air. The morning’s sun would warm the grass dew into mist, turning the dell into a bowl of sweet perfume. By noon, every white, blue, and yellow flower would unfold. Twilight always transformed the dell into a world of softness.
But when Ereth reached the dell, he found it blighted by the summer’s drought. The grass was brown. Withered leaves hung from the encircling trees. Not a solitary flower was in sight. No insects flittered about, except for the odd leaping grasshopper, its wings clacking angrily in the swollen heat.
Still, Ereth was convinced the dell was the best spot. The beaten-down grass would actually make it easier for the small mice to see him. At twilight it would be cooler.
He selected a boulder along the dell’s upper edge from which to speak. It was flat and easy for him to climb. All of Poppy’s family would be able to see him. “Just as it should be,” he mumbled.
Ereth stepped to the edge of the boulder, sat up on his hind legs, and looked out over the dell.
“My friends!” he began. “My full name is Erethizon Dorsatum, and for those younger folk before me who may be ignorant as to what I am, I am a porcupine. So if you don’t pay attention, you’ll get a quill up the snoot!
“I’m here today,” he said, “to speak about my dear friend, Poppy, unhappily now passed…up. It’s a sad occasion. So let me begin by—”
Ereth stopped speaking. “I can’t stand this!” he shouted to no one. Tears filled his eyes and dripped off the end of his nose. He could barely talk or breathe. Instead, he bent down and wiped his eyes and nose with his front paws. “I did love Poppy,” he whispered. “I really did. I know I didn’t do it well, but I did love her. And I…miss her so much! What else is there to say? Poppy’s gone. That’s all that matters.”
His tears continued to fall. He ceased speaking.
Even the grasshoppers were still.
CHAPTER 18
Spruce Goes Looking for Poppy
SPRUCE CRAWLED out of the family’s underground home and looked about the dry forest. There were two paths he could take. Having never traveled to Glitter Creek on his own, he was not sure which one to choose.
As the young mouse tried to make up his mind, Dogbane popped out of the entryway. “Okay,” he announced. “I’ll come with you.”
“Anyone else?” asked Spruce.
“Just me,” said Dogbane. “And since this is your idea, you’d better know the right way to the creek. Or were you just pretending?”
“I’m pretty sure it’s this way,” said Spruce, making a quick guess and starting down one of the paths. “You coming?”
Dogbane held back. “Pretty sure or very sure?”
“You scared to come?” said Spruce, half hoping his brother would say yes so he could go alone. It would be so neat to be the one to discover where Grandma Poppy had landed.
“Not me,” said Dogbane. He hurried after Spruce.
The brothers went along the path for a while without speaking. After a few minutes Dogbane sat down in a pool of shade by the side of the path. “It’s too hot to go fast,” he announced.
Spruce joined him. He stared up at the trees. He was used to going off alone, but today the trees seemed taller than he had remembered them.
Dogbane followed his gaze. “How high do you think those trees are?”
“Ten miles,” said Spruce, blurting out the first thing that came into his head.
Dogbane looked at his brother. “That’s not true.”
“Is,” insisted Spruce.
“Then how far is it till we get to the creek?” Dogbane asked.
“Thirty miles.”