by Peter Brown
When all her systems were up and running again, Roz noticed that she was surrounded by broken branches and piles of snow. The roof of the Nest had caved in, and the lodge was now flooded with sunlight. Roz felt more energized with each passing minute. But she also felt cold. Her joints felt stiff and brittle, and her thinking was slow. So she got up, cleared a spot on the floor, and made a fire. The snow inside the Nest began to melt and the robot’s sensors began to thaw, and when she was ready, she climbed out through the hole in the roof and into a bright, foreign landscape.
The world Roz had known was now covered in a thick layer of snow. Tree limbs bent to the ground under heavy sleeves. The dark pond was now pure white. The only sounds were Roz’s own crunching footsteps.
Faint wisps of steam curled up from the robot’s body as she trudged through the forest. Roz plunged a hand into a lump of snow and pulled up a long stick. She snapped it in half and flung both pieces back to the Nest. She took a few more steps and picked up a fallen tree. She hacked it into smaller pieces and flung them back as well.
Then she reached down to another snowy shape. But what she pulled up was not a piece of wood. It was Dart the weasel. He was frozen solid. Roz stared at his stiff body for a moment, then decided it was best to leave the poor thing where he was.
As the robot continued gathering wood, she found more victims of the cold. A frozen mouse. A frozen bird. A frozen deer. Had all the island animals frozen to death? No, not all. There were a few fresh tracks in the snow.
As we know, the wilderness is filled with beauty, but it’s also filled with ugliness. And that winter was ugly. A devastating cold front had swept down from the north and brought dangerous temperatures and huge amounts of snow. The animals had prepared for winter. But nothing could have prepared the weaker ones for those long nights, when the temperature plummeted and the wind whipped over the island.
Roz returned to the Nest, where the fire had melted the interior snow to a muddy soup. She took a minute to warm her body by the flames, and then she began the repairs. She patched up the hole in the dome with a latticework of branches before adding a layer of mud and leaves, and soon the repairs were complete. But another snowfall might cave in the Nest all over again. So Roz decided to keep a fire going day and night to prevent snow from building up on the roof.
The robot brought in load after load of firewood. And each time she went outside, she was reminded of the frozen weasel and mouse and bird and deer. How many other frozen animals were hidden beneath the snow?
Before going in for the night, she called out to whoever was listening.
“Animals of the island! You do not have to freeze! Join me in my lodge, where it is safe and warm!”
CHAPTER 55
THE LODGERS
Firelight spilled out from the Nest and into the cold, blustery night. Roz sat inside and listened to the wind and to the soft pops and crackles of burning wood. And then the robot’s keen hearing picked up another sound: tiny footsteps crunching through snow.
“Roz I’m freezing can I join you by the fire please?” said a weak voice.
Into the light crawled Chitchat. The squirrel was shivering, and clumps of ice stuck to her fur. When she finally felt the heat of the fire, she collapsed. Roz picked her up off the floor, gently placed her on a warm stone, and let her sleep.
An hour later, there were more footsteps, and a family of hares shuffled into the Nest. They huddled together in a corner without saying a word. Pinktail the opossum was the next to arrive. “Good evening,” she mumbled, trying to act cheerful. “It certainly has been ch-ch-chilly.” Swooper the owl hobbled in, followed by some chickadees and a magpie. Fink knew a good thing when he saw it, and the fox lay down right by the fire. Then came Digdown the groundhog. The Fuzzy Bandits carried in an old turtle named Crag, who was in the worst shape of all. Creatures who should have been hibernating deep underground had been roused by that vicious weather. Only the healthiest animals with the warmest homes were safe. More and more weary animals appeared, and slowly the lodge filled up.
This was the first time many of the lodgers had seen fire, and they gazed at it with a mixture of fear and hope. They could feel the fire’s destructive power, but they could also feel its healing power as it warmed their bones. The lodgers seemed to push forward, eager to feel more warmth, and then pull back, afraid of feeling too much.
It was important that the lodgers understood fire. So Roz showed them how to build one. She showed the smaller animals how to arrange the kindling, and she showed the bigger animals how to arrange the logs. Bumpkin, Lumpkin, and Rumpkin struck the firestones together, and everyone cheered when they finally managed a spark.
As Roz looked around, she saw moles curling up beside an owl. A mouse snuggling between two weasels. Hares nestling against a badger. Never before had the robot seen prey and predators so close and peaceful. But how long could the peace possibly last?
“I propose a truce,” said Roz, “like the Dawn Truce. Everyone must agree not to hunt or harm one another while in my lodge.”
“Very well,” said Swooper, after consulting his carnivorous friends. “We hunters will control ourselves.”
“Then it is settled,” said Roz. “My home is a safe place for all.”
One by one, the lodgers each fell into a deep sleep. Even the nocturnal creatures, usually wide awake at that hour, gave in to the coziness of the Nest. The robot stood out of the way and quietly tended to the fire as her guests slept through the night. Only when daylight was streaming in through the door did the lodgers finally begin to stir.
“You are all welcome to stay here as long as you like,” said the robot as the animals rubbed sleep from their eyes. “My home is your home.”
“Thanks a lot, Roz.” Fink carefully stepped over a hare and a woodpecker on his way to the door. “I don’t think I would have survived another night on my own. It’s just too bad we can’t cram a few more creatures in here.” And the fox slipped outside.
The robot looked down at the fur and feathers that now carpeted the floor. The Nest had been completely full that night. If any more animals showed up, they’d be left out in the cold. But Roz was not about to let that happen.
CHAPTER 56
THE NEW LODGES
The second lodge would have to be bigger than the first if it was going to fit Broadfoot the bull moose. He was a towering hulk of an animal and had a thick coat of fur, but even he was struggling with the frigid temperatures.
Broadfoot lived on the other side of the pond, in a dense section of forest that was home to many animals, most of whom were in desperate need of a good thaw. The winter days were short, so there was no time to waste, and rather than walking all the way around the pond, Roz tested its frozen surface to see if it was safe to cross. She threw a heavy rock high in the air and watched it bounce off the hard ice. Then she carefully walked over the ice and into the forest on the other side, where she found Broadfoot waiting for her. The moose quietly led the robot to the clearing in the trees where the new lodge would go. Then Roz made a fire and watched as cold creatures began crawling out from the shadows.
“Do not worry,” the robot said to the growing crowd, steam puffing from their noses. “You will all be warm soon. But I need your help.”
Roz asked the animals to collect anything useful they could find: large stones, strong branches, chunks of frozen mud. With the robot’s building expertise, and the small army of helpers, construction of the second lodge didn’t take long. The animals happily agreed to the robot’s truce, and then they shuffled into the warm wooden dome. “If you keep the fire alive, it will keep you alive,” explained Roz as she dropped another log onto the flames. “But be careful. Fire can turn deadly in an instant.”
At dawn, heavy snow was falling again, and there was Roz, setting out from the Nest to build a third lodge. She trudged into the Great Meadow, where fierce winds had created enormous, sweeping snowdrifts. But she powered through and finished the job, and was soo
n beginning work on a fourth lodge. And then a fifth.
The island became dotted with lodges that all glowed warmly through those long winter nights. And inside each one, animals laughed and shared stories and cheered their good friend Roz.
CHAPTER 57
THE FIRE
Strange sounds were echoing from the far side of the pond. What started as a low murmur gradually swelled to a chorus of terrified voices. There was an eerie glow in that part of the forest, and a thick plume of smoke began rising up from the snowy treetops.
Roz charged across the ice and found the second lodge completely engulfed by a raging fire. Frightened animals were running in every direction, fleeing for their lives through the deep snow.
“What happened?” shouted Roz as Broadfoot galloped wildly past.
“We put too many logs in the fire pit!” he said without stopping. “The flames climbed up to the ceiling!”
“My baby is still in there!” cried a mother hare, pointing at the burning lodge. “Somebody help! Please!”
Roz didn’t hesitate. She plowed through the snow and ducked into the lodge. Flames and smoke were everywhere. A tall stack of logs blazed in the fire pit. And in the far corner, a tiny ball of fur was shaking with fear. Crouching low, the robot wound her way beneath the smoke and around the flames and gently scooped up the young hare.
“Do not worry!” Roz yelled over the roar of the fire. “You are going to be okay!”
She turned to leave, but the doorway had started to crumble. So she shielded the hare with her body and smashed right through the walls of the lodge. Sizzling pieces of wood went flying as the robot and the hare burst outside into the soft snow.
“Oh, darling, you’re all right!” cried the mother hare, pulling her daughter close. “Thank you for saving my baby, Roz!”
Now that everyone was safely away, the robot turned her attention to putting out the fire. Her glowing eyes darted around as she computed a plan. Then, with all the strength in her legs, Roz launched herself high up into the snowy branches of the nearest pine tree. A moment later, the tree was shaking violently and heaps of snow were sliding from its branches and pouring onto the flames like an avalanche. Steam hissed up through the smothering mound of snow. The flames quickly died, the snow quickly melted, and within minutes all that remained was the charred foundation of the lodge.
Roz dropped down from the tree and waited as the frightened animals slowly returned. Then she said to them, “Would you like another lodge?”
The animals looked at one another, unsure of what to do. Understandably, they were afraid of another fire breaking out. But they were far more afraid of the deadly cold. So they pulled together and worked with Roz and built a bigger, better lodge on top of the old one. It had a taller ceiling and a deeper fire pit, it was made with more rock and less wood, and it had a supply of water for emergencies. But the most important safety features of this rebuilt lodge were the lodgers themselves, who now had a whole new respect for fire.
CHAPTER 58
THE CONVERSATIONS
Thanks to Roz’s truce, life inside the Nest was mostly harmonious. But when the animals went outside, it was business as usual. Sometimes a lodger wouldn’t return. Sometimes a lodger would return in the belly of another lodger. As you can imagine, that made for some awkward moments. So when everyone was gathered around the fire, they tried to keep things pleasant by having conversations like these.
“I wonder what Brightbill is doing right now.” Chitchat lay on her back and looked at the ceiling as she spoke. “And where he is and who he’s with and if he ever thinks about us back here on the island.”
“I am sure he thinks about us,” said Roz. “I think about him all the time.”
“I like to imagine that the geese had a fun flight to the wintering grounds and now Brightbill is floating on a lovely lake eating yummy food and making wonderful new friends but hopefully they’re not too wonderful because I’d like to stay his best friend if possible.”
“That is a nice thought,” said Roz. “But I worry that the flock might have gotten caught in this icy weather. I do not think they would handle it well.”
“Don’t worry I’m sure they’re fine,” said Chitchat. “Brightbill is such a great flier that I just know he’ll keep the flock out of trouble.”
“He is a great flier,” said Roz. “But I still worry.”
“Life is short.” Digdown the old groundhog was giving another one of her fireside speeches. “I’ll be lucky if I see the spring. I don’t want your pity. I’ve had a good run. But I’ll tell you what: If I could do it all over again, I’d spend more time helping others. All I’ve ever done is dig tunnels. Some of them were real beauties too, but they’re all hidden underground, where they’re no good to anyone but me. And they weren’t even good to me this winter! Now, the beavers, they have it all figured out. They built that beautiful dam, which created a lovely pond that made all our lives better. That must feel mighty good!”
“The beavers made our lives better in another way,” said Fink. “They taught Roz how to build.”
“Ain’t that the truth!” said Digdown. “Roz, you must have saved half the island with your lodges! And to think we used to call you a monster. I’ll repay my debt to you if it’s the last thing I do.”
“Your friendship is payment enough,” said Roz.
“Oh, please, your sweetness is gonna make me sick. There must be something we can do!”
“Your friendship really is enough. Friends help each other. And I will need all the help I can get. My mind is strong, but my body will not last forever. I want to survive as long as possible. And to do that I will need the help of my friends.”
The animals listened quietly to Roz and thought of their own struggles to survive. Life in the wilderness was hard for everyone; there was no escaping that fact. But the robot had made their lives a little easier. And if ever they could, the animals would return the favor.
“I have seen ninety-three winters, far more than any of you.” Crag the turtle spoke slowly, but everyone always listened to his words. “And I can tell you that the winters have gotten colder, and the summers have gotten hotter, and the storms have gotten fiercer.”
“I heard that the ocean has gotten higher,” said Chitchat, “but I don’t see how that could be true I mean where would all that extra water come from?”
“You are right—the ocean is higher,” said Crag. “My grandfather used to say that, long ago, this island was not an island at all. It was a mountain surrounded by flatlands. And then the ground shook, and the oceans grew, and the land slowly flooded until the mountain became this island. Animals from far and wide were forced to come here to escape the floodwaters. In those early days, there were too many animals living in too small a place. The island did not have enough food to feed them all. But between fighting and disease and famine, a balance was finally reached. And we have kept the balance ever since.”
Chitchat’s eyes grew wide with concern. “If the ocean keeps rising the island will be swallowed up by the waves and I don’t even know how to swim!”
“If the waves ever do swallow this island, it will not happen for a very long time,” said Crag. “By then we will all be long dead, even me.”
“Everything has a purpose.” It was Swooper’s turn to lecture the lodgers. “The sun is meant to give light. Plants are meant to grow. We owls are meant to hunt.”
“We mice are meant to hide.”
“We raccoons are meant to scavenge.”
“Roz, what are you meant to do?”
“I do not believe I have a purpose.”
“Ha! I respectfully disagree,” said Swooper. “Clearly, you are meant to build.”
“I think Roz is meant to grow gardens.”
“Roz is definitely meant to care for Brightbill.”
“Perhaps I am simply meant to help others.”
CHAPTER 59
THE SPRING
Dripping water, flowing water, splas
hing water. Winter’s blanket of snow and ice was finally beginning to melt. White was fading away to expose the grays and browns that had been hidden beneath. Little green buds were appearing all over. Crowds of bright flowers were rising up from the dirt. And soon the island would be bursting with rich scents and colors. At long last it was spring.
The lodgers returned to their own homes. The hibernators emerged from their secret places. Roz roamed across the island and checked in with the beavers and the bears and all the friends she’d missed. Then the robot went home to work in her garden. After the bitterest winter anyone could recall, life was slowly returning to normal.
However, it was a quiet spring. There were fewer insects buzzing, fewer birds singing, fewer rodents rustling. Many creatures had frozen to death over the winter. And as the last of the snow melted away, their corpses were slowly revealed. The wilderness really can be ugly sometimes. But from that ugliness came beauty. You see, those poor dead creatures returned to the earth, their bodies nourished the soil, and they helped create the most dazzling spring bloom the island had ever known.
CHAPTER 60
THE FISH
“Help! Help! He’s got my tail!” Paddler was splashing and screaming in the pond. Mr. and Mrs. Beaver were nowhere to be seen, so Roz picked up a fallen tree branch and stomped into the shallows.
“Grab on to this!” she said as she reached out with the branch. Paddler grabbed it with his big teeth, and the robot lifted him up out of the water. And there, hanging from the young beaver’s tail, was Rockmouth, the grumpy old pike. In one quick movement, Roz pulled in the branch and gripped the fish with her two hands. Paddler flopped into the water, where his parents suddenly appeared.
