Just Beyond the Very, Very Far North

by Dan Bar-el

  But before any of that could be sorted out, C.C. flew in, all excited. “It’s a target! I’ve just figured out that all along Twitch was making a target!” The wise owl, who was proudly holding diagrams and other visual props that would explain her deductions, took in the surroundings and the awkward silence that followed her announcement. There was Twitch, looking very happy. There was Major Puff, looking very tired but very arrived. There were Handsome and Magic, looking very dapper but also very confused. In fact, they looked just as baffled as she currently felt. “Did I miss something?” she asked.

  Twitch took charge at this point. “Not to worry, dear. All’s well that ends well, each cloud has a silver lining, when life gives you carrots, make a carrot cake, or just eat the carrots, if you catch my meaning.”

  No one did catch her meaning, but Twitch was too happy to care. She hopped over to Major Puff, who, in an even greater state of bliss, was displaying a ridiculously large grin. He was home, he was safe, and he was surrounded by friends who truly cared for him. A speech was in order, but in truth, the Major was stunned and speechless. His goofy, loving smile would have to suffice, and in any case, Twitch was deftly handling the occasion.

  “I’d like to offer my thanks to Sun Girl and the Pack, and to you, too, Duane, for making things right. You’re all welcome to stay in the meadow and finish your strange party, but the Major here is off to the burrow now for a quiet cup of tea and a very long nap.”

  Duane went over to assist Twitch in getting Major Puff safely to the burrow door. The puffin’s recent exertions had left him woozy to the point of toppling over. Still grinning, but with eyes closed, the Major leaned his head on Twitch’s shoulder. All the while, Twitch hummed a cheery tune quietly to herself. Fog or no fog, spring was finally in the air.

  “Good night, Major Puff,” said Duane. “Glad to have you back. Good night to you, too, Twitch.”

  He turned to join the others at the party among the fog and the fire. I don’t suppose he heard what Twitch said next, but I, your narrator, certainly did. “So we’re calling Baby Whaleback a mountain now, are we? Fitting, really, I suppose, but could be confusing to some who haven’t read the first book, just saying.”

  And with that, the burrow door closed behind her.

  11. THE WEASEL RETURNS, MAGIC LEARNS A SECRET, AND DUANE DISAPPOINTS HER

  THERE WAS A COMMON understanding among Duane and his friends that Boo was shy in the company of others. Public speaking was something she struggled with, managing a volume not much louder than a whisper. Fortunate were the times when Twitch was around; she, with her long, sensitive ears, was able to hear what the timid caribou was saying and would sometimes repeat it to the assembled group if necessary. Therefore, with so little said and even less heard, Boo remained a mystery.

  But not being heard is not the same as being misunderstood, as the situation in this story will illustrate. Aside from the shyness, there was the fact that Boo would frequently not be around for days at a time and then suddenly show up, as if out of thin air, and then just as quickly be gone again. There was no schedule or routine to her comings and goings. There was no explanation given.

  The foremost thing that no one knew about Boo was where exactly she lived. For some, it was left unknown out of respect for Boo’s privacy (Duane and Twitch), and for others it was for genuine lack of interest (Handsome, Major Puff, and C.C.). However, when it came to Magic, things were different. Magic’s curiosity bordered on nosiness. Respecting someone’s privacy was a concept that she didn’t really grasp. It wouldn’t take a lot to push her curiosity to a point that would be disrespectful. And that’s where the weasel returns to our story.

  The weasel often used Magic’s extensive network of tunnels that joined the many entrances of her hillside den. In doing so, the weasel and Magic would on occasion pass each other en route to wherever they were heading. If they had any conversations during these brief encounters, they were of the impolite variety.

  “Get out of my way! Coming through!” the weasel might yell.

  “Get out of my way!” Magic might yell back, knocking the smaller weasel to the side.

  It was just that kind of rudeness that warmed the weasel’s heart to Magic and suggested to him that he’d found a kindred spirit. That was hardly the case. Magic was not nearly the same as the weasel, yet nevertheless, he still recognized something. All she needs is a little coaxing, he decided.

  On the next occasion on which the weasel and Magic were approaching each other in a tunnel, the weasel moved to one side to let her pass. But before Magic could go too far, he called out after her, “Hey, you ever notice how that caribou just takes off?”

  Magic stopped and turned around. “Huh? Are you talking to me?”

  “Yeah, I’m just asking,” the weasel continued. “That caribou, where does she go?”

  Magic was annoyed by the question. “I don’t know where Boo goes. Does it matter? And who are you, anyway?”

  The arctic fox turned back in the direction she was heading. She had no time for presumptuous questions from complete strangers in a tunnel she thought was her own.

  “Yeah, maybe you’re right,” the weasel said. “I was just wondering what she was hiding that was so important, that’s all.”

  Magic froze in her tracks like a statue. Her brain did the opposite. It whirled and buzzed and computed a thousand different possible answers to the question ‘What was Boo hiding?’ Then just as quickly, it shifted from ‘What was Boo hiding?’ to ‘Why was Boo hiding it?’ Is it too dangerous? Magic wondered. Is it too super fun? Could it allow the wrong types to fly? Does it involve secret paw-shakes? Why isn’t Boo sharing it with us? Magic couldn’t help herself. She couldn’t let go of the question. It burrowed into her head.

  And meanwhile, the weasel scurried off, snickering all the way.

  From that moment on, Magic was on the lookout for Boo. She needed to find out the answer, and until she did, nothing else mattered. So Magic camped herself in a spot next to Handsome’s field because that was where she’d likely find Boo grazing quietly in a corner.

  Three days later, Boo appeared. Handsome, as was often the case, was occupying himself with his own reflection in the pond, all the while regaling Boo with a tragic story about horn-grooming. Magic hid herself lower to the ground and bided her time.

  “My great-uncle on my father’s side was convinced that a good horn rubbing gave it a pleasant sheen. On one occasion, he found a firm tree—this was down south, you understand—and he began rubbing his horns against the trunk for several hours. But what he hadn’t realized was how hard he was rubbing. The tree was slowly being hewn, and before you could say ‘timber,’ he rubbed right through the trunk. The tree fell atop his lunch, already laid out, ruining any chance to taste the gazpacho, but that’s another story.”

  Boo smiled and left Handsome’s field without any fanfare. It’s debatable whether Handsome even realized she was there. In any case, when she left, Magic stealthily followed. Whenever Boo stopped and tuned her ears to what she perceived as an unfamiliar sound, Magic would crouch and hold her breath. If Boo turned to look behind, Magic threw herself into a position that blended perfectly with the landscape. In this way, Magic was able to follow Boo along a rocky path high above Duane’s cave until she reached the ridgetop, then headed back down the other side. At the bottom was an open meadow, and on the other side was a forest. Boo walked beside the tree line until she reached a spot where she paused. Boo looked around one final time before squeezing between two trees much closer together than most. When Magic reached that same place, she saw that there were in fact two long rows of trees grown closely together that formed a natural passageway deep into the woods. Slowly and ever so quietly, the arctic fox snuck between the trees, keeping in the shadows of the corridor. Rays of light brightened the grass at the far end, and as Magic got closer, she could hear singing. It was not only beautiful singing, but it was also both loud and bold.

  “La la-la, la la-
la, la la-la la!”

  So that’s it! thought Magic. Boo has a not-so-shy friend that she is not telling us about!

  Advancing closer, Magic discovered that the passageway opened up into a secret clearing in the woods, the perfect home for a shy and private caribou. What Magic did not discover was Boo’s not-so-shy friend, and the reason why is that the loud and bold voice belonged to Boo. Even more surprising was that while Boo was happily singing at the top of her lungs, she was also dancing. Beautifully dancing. Carefree yet graceful and expressive, Boo leaped in high arcs, twirled in midair, kicked out her hind legs, and tiptoed en pointe. Her antlers prodded the space before her, leading her body into semi-turns in one direction and then in the other, pushing forward, then gleefully bouncing backward. Boo reared up toward the sky, she rolled along the ground, and she scrunched up tight and stretched out like a bow, all the while serenading the forest with her happy song.

  “La la-la, la la-la, la la-la la!”

  Oh my! thought Magic, tossing herself up against the far side of a tree trunk. She refrained from gasping or making any sound lest Boo hear her. Who would have thought? Boo is amazing! Her voice is incredible! Wait till I tell the others!

  Magic scampered down the passageway of trees, across the meadow, and up and over the mountain ridge. She was near bursting with excitement. Mischief was one thing; it came to Magic naturally. But having a secret? Having something that you know that no one else knows? Well, that felt volatile, like a crack of lightning across the sky or a geyser of boiling water and steam shooting out of the earth’s depths. Containing that energy was impossible. Magic had to tell someone, and she had to tell them fast. Duane was the closest.

  “Duaney-Duane (poke, poke)!” shouted Magic, bursting into his cave, as was her custom, and poking him in the belly, as was her custom too. “You will absolutely not guess what I just saw! You won’t believe it! You won’t guess it! In a million years, you will not guess it! But guess anyway.”

  “Was it a berry?” asked Duane, taking the intrusion in stride, as was his custom. “A very large berry? A large berry that is perhaps ready to eat?”

  “What? No! Why would you even guess that?”

  “I was hungry,” Duane explained simply.

  “No. Not a berry. Something to do with Boo.”

  A worried look fell over Duane’s face. “Is she okay?”

  “She’s better than okay.” A huge smile instantly spread across Magic’s face. She couldn’t contain her secret anymore. “I just spied Boo singing as loud as Handsome snores! And she was dancing, too, Duane. Dancing!”

  “Oh my,” said Duane, much to Magic’s satisfaction. She had finally caught Duane’s attention… but perhaps not in the way she had hoped. “Did you say that you spied on her?”

  Flustered, the arctic fox quickly brushed her front paws in the air back and forth as if to erase Duane’s question. “Yes, sure, but that’s not the point! Boo was singing, Duane! I heard it! And dancing! I saw it! It was a big deal! You need to see it too!” Then Magic gleefully recounted the story of how she followed Boo from Handsome’s field to her forest hideaway.

  Again, Duane was not following where she was hoping to lead him in this conversation. “I’m not sure I would want to see something that was supposed to be private.”

  Magic stood frozen, wide-eyed and stunned by Duane’s lack of interest in her secret, while at the same time still vibrating with the excitement of the secret. For several seconds she didn’t know what to do with herself. Then she did what she usually did. “Oh, come on!” she yelled, throwing herself to the ground dramatically.

  “No, it wouldn’t be right,” said Duane with a small nod of conviction.

  And that was when Magic realized that her friends might not see things the same way she did. It would have been so much better had she arrived at the same conclusion as Duane, namely, that spying on friends or anyone is wrong, but what she inferred instead was that her friends were stick-in-the-muds, dull and boring. Without as much as a goodbye, Magic left Duane’s cave sulking and headed back to her den.

  The weasel was waiting for her when she returned home.

  12. MAGIC GETS SWEPT UP IN MISCHIEF NOT OF HER OWN MAKING

  THERE WAS THE WEASEL, leaning up against the wall of Magic’s tunnel.

  “Oh, it’s you,” Magic said, none too friendly. “I’ve had an exhausting, unpleasant day, and I want to be left alone.” Magic slumped to the ground, rolled onto her back, draped a paw across her forehead, and sighed with the heaviness that only one so terribly misunderstood could manage.

  “Yeah, I get it,” said the weasel. “You saw how talented your friend Boo was, and you know that everyone else would be amazed too, yet no one wants to listen to you.”

  One of Magic’s eyes opened and peeked out from under her draped paw. The weasel got her attention. It’s very possible that Magic might have let go of the whole ignored-secret-about-Boo business. For better or worse, Magic was always able to be passionate about something one minute and completely forget about it the next. The weasel seemed to sense this about Magic.

  “It’s as if they can’t even see what you’re trying to do,” he continued.

  Magic sat up, reenergized. “Exactly! You understand—why can’t Duane?”

  Hearing Magic say that was music to the weasel’s ears. “Forget about Duane. You should tell the others your secret.”

  Magic was hesitant, even pouty. “What if they say the same thing? What if they won’t come and see Boo’s singing and dancing either? Even though they would be totally surprised and completely amazed! I mean, really!”

  “Yeah, I get that,” said the weasel sympathetically. “But what if this time you give them a different reason to come and check on the caribou? You know… for their own good.”

  Magic’s face brightened up like thin ice sparkling under a blinding sun. “You mean trick them? I like tricks. I’m good at them. And once they see how amazing Boo is, and once Boo sees how impressed we are, they will all thank me, right?”

  The weasel smiled but said nothing.

  * * *

  Over the next few days, Magic approached her other friends with tailor-made reasons for them to check on Boo that had nothing to do with the secret she wanted to share.

  “I think that Boo may have caught an exotic disease!” she explained to Twitch with much exaggeration. “She shouts out over and over. She’s probably in a lot of pain. It causes her to jump in the air in every which direction!”

  “Oh, the poor dear,” said Twitch while nervously chewing at her paw. “How she contains herself in our company. Never a word of complaint. Stiff upper lip and such. A hot bowl of soup is what she needs. Or a hot water bottle. Or both, just saying.”

  With Major Puff, Magic took a different approach. While he was out practicing his offensive and defensive marching techniques, she jumped in front of him and marched backward as she spoke. “I can’t say for sure, Major, but I wonder if Boo is in contact with the great black-backed gull forces.”

  “What say you?” demanded the very shocked puffin, breaking stride. “Boo in consort with the enemy? This is a bold accusation, Magic. Where is your proof?”

  “All I know is that she maintains a secret base within the woods. I overheard voices that were not typical of the Boo we know… or thought we knew. I mean, really! She could be a double agent!”

  Major Puff’s orange beak went pale. Charitably, he was still willing to give Boo the benefit of the doubt. “Perhaps she’s been blackmailed or compromised in some way. The great black-backed gull is not above the most dastardly deceits. In any case, this must be dealt with decisively.”

  It took some time to reach C.C. when her turn came next. The Mainly Frozen Ocean being just the Cold, Cold Ocean during the warmer seasons, Magic couldn’t walk over to the Shipwreck. Given a choice, like Handsome, she would prefer to avoid any swimming, so instead, she went over to the Fabulous Beach and waited until she saw the sun reflecting off C.C.’s telescop
e. Then she jumped up and down, waving her paws frantically to get C.C.’s attention. This took more than one attempt. In fact, it took four attempts, because although C.C. did see Magic on the beach the first three times, C.C. didn’t heed the call. The reason being that both Magic and C.C. had boundary issues. C.C. liked personal boundaries, whereas Magic, as I’ve pointed out, crossed over them frequently. The idea of Magic ruffling through her feathers or poking her in the belly was not an idea C.C. cared for. But by the fourth siting of the arctic fox waving at her from afar, C.C. considered it might be urgent and worth examining. She left the Shipwreck and flew over to the Fabulous Beach.

  “What took you so long?” demanded Magic while dramatically letting her paws hang limp to demonstrate her exhaustion from so much waving. “I’ve been trying to get you to come over for at least a hundred years!”

  Showing remarkable restraint, C.C. did not point out the unlikelihood of one hundred years having passed. Instead, she got down to business. “I’m here now. To what purpose do I owe this meeting?”

  Magic got right down to it too. “Boo has discovered a plant that gives her powerful abilities. You need to investigate it.”

  “What kinds of abilities?” asked C.C.

  “Oh, uh… jumping. It makes her jump really, amazingly, super high! And it makes her voice really loud too!”