Journey Beyond the Burrow

by Rina Heisel

  Hess raised his chin. “Your mom?”

  “It’s just . . .” Tobin ran a paw across the gravelly ground, feeling the particles weave between his paw pads, until finally the words spilled out in a rush. “Last year my mom had a pinkling, but it was born asleep and never woke up, ever.”

  Hess’s mouth opened, but no words came out.

  Tobin flicked his tail forward into his paws and squeezed before continuing. “I don’t want her to be sad like that again. Not ever again.”

  Hess slowly nodded, the scales on his forehead seeming to crease with concern. “Tobin, do you have any other brothers or sisters at home?”

  “No, it’s just me and Talia. Why?”

  Hess’s eyes focused on something Tobin couldn’t see. It was a faraway look, the kind someone gets when they’re preoccupied with the thoughts in their mind. “All of your parents’ children are here then, across the creek, away from home,” Hess said.

  Tobin nodded in silence, the gravity of Hess’s thoughts sinking deep.

  Hess continued, “You should probably wake Talia and Wiley now. And, rest assured, they are also off my menu.”

  Tobin let the smallest smidge of a smile creep on his muzzle. Hess had a sense of humor.

  Inching up to his companions, Tobin gently nudged Talia. “Hey, time to get up.”

  She stretched and yawned as she rose. “I’m up.”

  Tobin poked Wiley with his tail. “C’mon Wiley, rise and shine.”

  Wiley’s eyes sprang open and he bolted upright, his gaze fixed on the black serpent.

  “Easy, Wiley, it’s just Hess,” said Tobin, daring to rest a paw on Wiley’s shoulder. “Easy.”

  Wiley’s stare lingered a moment longer before drifting to Tobin. “Oh yeah.” He blinked and shook his head. “Spiders. We’re chasing spiders.” His claws loosened from the floor.

  Hess’s voice vibrated around the rocky den. “I’m going to take a look outside. I’ll signal you if it’s safe to follow.”

  The snake slithered through the opening, only the tip of his tail remaining inside. The scaly point rested still for a few moments before it twitched. Left. Right. Around.

  Wiley squinted. “Think that’s the signal?”

  “I’d say so,” said Tobin. He poked his nose outside, then scampered alongside Hess’s long body. By the time he reached the serpent’s snout, Tobin could see there was a slight complication. “Little foggy this morning, huh?”

  “Yes,” Hess said between flicks of his tongue. “Remember, stay close and stay quiet. The fog isn’t ideal, but time is of the essence. The Arakni scent is still strong.”

  Tobin nodded, then looked behind him. “Hey Tal, Wiley—stay close to Hess. We need to travel through the fog.”

  Talia nodded immediately, but Wiley hesitated. Tobin knew why, and exactly what his friend was thinking:

  Rule #11: Fog can settle, and fog can roll; wait for the roll before you go.

  Without question, this fog wasn’t moving anywhere, and they should stay put until it did.

  But.

  Tobin looked to Wiley. “Not only is the Arakni scent still strong, we also have to get to the pinkling sooner than later, right?”

  Wiley cocked his head. “You know, Tobin, if we need to do a few things snake-style this trip, I get it. Really.”

  “Okay.” Tobin wiped a paw across his forehead. Here they were, on the biggest trek of their lives, and he found himself bending, breaking, and twisting the Rules.

  “Tobin.” Talia stepped in front and faced him snout to snout. “Let’s face it, what works for weather scouting may not work for rescue scouting.”

  Tobin’s ears pricked up at the thought. “Is that what we’re doing? Rescue scouting?”

  Talia smiled and shrugged. “Something like that.”

  “That’s a new one.” Tobin nodded slowly. “Maybe you can talk the Eldermice into rescue scouting when we get back.”

  “Maybe,” Talia called as she crept up near Hess’s head. “I think we’re all set,” she said to the serpent. Tobin fell in line behind Talia, and Wiley stepped behind him.

  Hess pulled ahead, beginning his swerve across the foggy forest floor. Above, many regular morning noises filled the air; birds called, squirrels loudly scampered through the branches, and somewhere in the distance a woodpecker thrummed its beak against a tree trunk looking for breakfast. Tobin thought for a moment about the woodpecker, not much bigger than a robin, yet the thunderous noise they made hammering their beaks against the trees amazed him. They seemed to be drifting closer to where the woodpecker worked, as the percussion of its beak rapping on bark felt like it was tapping directly on his eardrums.

  The fur along Tobin’s spine suddenly rose. He thrust his paw—claws out—into Hess’s side. They all froze. A change . . . something changed.

  He sniffed, slow, shallow breaths. A new odor. It was faint, but undeniable. And another odor now, too, as Hess swelled up, emitting his own warning scent. So slightly, Tobin turned his head from Hess, and he caught a stronger whiff. Canine. Fox.

  Tobin’s gaze zeroed in on a bush roughly two hare-leaps away. Through the haze of fog, an orange-and-black muzzle seemed to materialize between the leaves.

  It sees us. Do they see it? Tobin averted his eyes quickly to see Talia in front of him, her head tilted toward the fox. She saw. What would the fox do? A trail of mice alongside a large snake. Just how hungry was it?

  They didn’t have to wait long to find out.

  Twelve

  TOBIN DIDN’T REALIZE HOW far a fox could jump. When it sprang, they scattered, and only a puff of dirt remained. The fox landed squarely where they’d been. Hess side-slithered to avoid a direct blow from its paw, but the fox spun and kicked out with its hind legs. From the corner of his eye, Tobin saw Hess sail across the forest floor and land in a pile of rotting branches.

  Tobin dove into a thicket of boxwood, squeezing between the densest tangles near the base. He could hear Talia huffing, pushing her way in behind him. He squirmed forward, making room for her and Wiley. Pressing himself low to where the branch stems became roots, Tobin stopped. Talia slid into the small groove beside him. Tobin waited, one breath, then two . . . but no Wiley.

  He nudged Talia. She looked at him, puzzlement clear on her face.

  A soft whine filtered through the branches, followed by a yipping bark. The fox chattered—but not directly outside their shrub. Talia leaned into Tobin. She barely breathed the words, “Where is Wiley?”

  Tobin shook his head and reached, grabbing hold of a stem. He whispered back, “Going to look. Stay here. Pleeeease.”

  A flash of frustration crossed Talia’s face, but she nodded nonetheless.

  With a quick nod, Tobin ascended the gnarled, twisty branches until the leafy foliage thinned and he could see the scene unfolding.

  His heart sank. Wiley, what were you thinking?

  Clinging to the very tip of a wispy pine bough, Wiley was holding on for dear life. The tree stood no taller than a grown moose, and Wiley clung only inchworms out of easy reach for the fox. The fox’s tail swooshed excitedly across the forest floor. It yipped, whined, then jumped—its jaws snapping. Wiley swung himself to the opposite side of the treetop, just avoiding the deadly bite. The skinny tree wobbled and swayed. It was only a matter of time before the fox connected. Wiley was sitting fox bait.

  For a fleeting second, Tobin considered that maybe Wiley had done this on purpose, maybe as a decoy so he and Talia could escape? Like he himself had done before with the snakes. Now Tobin knew why they hadn’t left him behind, either.

  The fox launched itself again, and the crunch-crunch snapping of its jaws shot fissures of fear deep through Tobin’s bones. He looked around wildly. What could he do? And where was Hess? Hurt? Fled? That fox had kicked the snake pretty hard. . . .

  A flutter of feathers caught Tobin’s eye, and he looked up.

  Sludge.

  A young falcon had noticed the commotion and landed on a n
earby branch, watching intently. Tobin’s tail swished behind him. “Oh, you have got to be kidding,” he muttered. Then a thought: two predators, two mice.

  Can’t think; just act. Funneling his nervous energy into his legs, Tobin rocked forward, then back, forward, back, and jumped.

  He jettisoned toward the forest floor, calling a loud tchirr! for good measure. The young falcon, already on alert, couldn’t resist the bait. It stretched out its wings and swooped.

  Tobin’s paws scrambled the moment he hit the ground. His claws cut through dirt until he was running—running directly toward the fox.

  The flurry of activity grabbed the fox’s attention, and it whirled around, leaving the spindly tree and Wiley behind it.

  Tobin locked his gaze on the startled canine. The sound of the wind rushing through the falcon’s feathers filled his ears, and the shadow of its talons bloomed across the ground.

  The fox lifted its head, seeing the bird swooping close, dangerously close—

  The fox stumbled backward, bumping into the tree, and Tobin shot right between its legs, sailing past the tree and into a bramble of bushes.

  He heard the collision behind him; first a soft thud of feathers hitting fur. Then screeches, snarls, as the two predators tangled.

  Tobin wedged himself into a crevice between shrub root and ground and froze. He shut his eyes, concentrating on breathing and slowing his thrumming heart.

  Then a whisper from behind: “Wow, that was something.”

  The noise nearly sent Tobin shooting up through the shrub and into the stratosphere.

  “Wiley,” Tobin scolded in the harshest whisper that he dared. “Don’t sneak up like that—and shush!”

  The two sat in silence. In the following long moments, they heard a crunching sound, followed by the sounds of paw pads trotting away; the fox had departed.

  They remained sitting in silence for a few long moments. A soft tchirr! from above broke them from their trance.

  “Talia,” Tobin whispered.

  Cautiously, the two crept out from the denseness of the brush and looked up, toward the source of the call.

  There, on the lowest limb of a nearby spruce, sat Talia. Nestled into a trio of pine cones, she was almost invisible. She nodded, and Tobin nodded back. Then Talia jerked her head to the side, and Tobin figured she must want them to follow her.

  Spotting a scrap of bark near the base of the spruce tree, Tobin and Wiley darted to Talia’s tree and wiggled beneath, waiting. Tobin tchirred.

  A scent—at first scary, but then familiar—crossed his nose. Swallowing a lump in his throat, Tobin peeked out from beneath the scratchy scrap of wood. He watched as Talia shimmied down the tree trunk and hopped off, landing right beside the onyx-colored serpent. Tobin’s breath caught in his throat as he watched his sister walk over to, and then lean into, the big snake.

  “She’s getting attached,” Tobin quietly observed.

  Wiley sidled up alongside him. “Aren’t you?” His voice was unusually sincere.

  Tobin’s stare was fixed on Hess and his sister. “I don’t know that we should. Where was he after the fox appeared?”

  Wiley shrugged. “He took a pretty good hit from that fox. Besides, you didn’t really give him a chance to do anything. You pulled off your stunt so quickly. Which was awesome, by the way.”

  “Oh, thanks.” Tobin tapped a claw on the dirt. “Well, Hess is all we’ve got for now anyway, right?”

  Wiley chuckled. “That’s the spirit. C’mon, we need to get moving,” he said, and he scampered the hare-leap distance to Hess and Talia.

  “Right,” Tobin answered to no one in particular. He followed Wiley, catching up in time to hear the tail end of Talia’s recap.

  “And then,” Talia said, eyes wide, “Tobin runs right through the fox’s legs, and the falcon crashed straight into that orange fleabag.”

  Hess turned his head to look at him, and Tobin felt like the snake’s golden eyes were staring right into his soul.

  “How, Tobin,” Hess asked, “did you ever devise a plan so quickly?”

  Tobin scratched his head. “I don’t really know—”

  “And without fear,” Hess interrupted. “Or panic! Why, that fox sent me flying end over end, and here you were, dealing with the situation on your own.”

  Tobin looked down, finding it hard to speak directly to the gushing snake. “Well, not totally without fear, and not alone, either.” He looked to Wiley. “Did you run up that tree so we could escape?”

  Wiley’s cheeks puffed up with air and he shrugged. “I figured if I bought us a little time you’d figure something out.”

  Hess snorted. “I’m very impressed.”

  “Yup, we mice are full of surprises,” Wiley said with a grin. “Why, just yesterday I found out Tobin snuck out of his den.”

  Talia wriggled her nose. “Not exactly the same thing, Wiley.”

  Wiley patted Tobin on the shoulder. “I’m just saying, there’s a mouse with the spine of a badger in there.”

  “Stop it, Wiley,” Tobin pleaded, wanting to get the attention off himself, though soon a very serious thought came rushing forward. The pinkling. “We need to get moving.”

  “Absolutely.” Hess nodded, the smallest hint of a smile remaining on his face. “Still, impressive work.” Hess raised his head high, and Tobin saw with a cringe the claw marks from where he’d been slapped by the fox.

  “Onward.” And with that, Hess slid forward, directly through a pile of falcon feathers. Between flicks of his tongue, the serpent spoke. “Remember, stay close and stay quiet.”

  Tobin nodded, falling in line. The putrid Arakni scent still clung to the forest brush, and they followed it. They wove through thick grasses and weeds and over thistle brushes, and they even passed by a dueling pair of pheasants, until a deep gorge that sliced through the forest floor brought them to stop.

  Tobin ducked beneath a patch of ferns, of which half the boughs hung limply over the ledge. Huddling beneath the green canopy, they stared into the canyon below.

  “Huh,” said Wiley, “it sort of looks like there used to be a creek here, and someone forgot to put water in it.”

  Hess’s long neck dipped over the ridge. “The Arakni trail leads to this ledge.” Hess looked at Tobin. “Which is no problem for a spider. Or even a mouse.”

  “But for you”—Tobin peered across the gorge—“this could be tough.”

  The climb out the other side looked steep—a sharp incline of crumbly sand, dirt, and clumps of roots. Great for climbers with paws, claws, or wings. None of which Hess had.

  Talia sniffed the air breezing up from the gorge. “I don’t smell anything dangerous. Maybe just the three of us should cross for now, just to check out the other side.”

  “No,” Hess answered quickly. “Any number of predators could be hiding in ambush, waiting upwind. I can get down easy enough. I’ll go with you at least that far.”

  Wiley’s ears flattened. “But then what? We’re not gonna leave you stranded down there.”

  “We’ll all cross together,” said Tobin, “and we’ll find a way out. Together.”

  Hess nodded. “I’ll go first. Stay alert. Let me know if you see any troublemakers.”

  “Will do.” Tobin raised his chin, trying to keep a brave face when really it felt like vines had crept up him and were pulling at his guts. Maybe courting danger came as naturally to Hess as shedding his snake skin, but that was far from Tobin’s mentality. “Be careful, everyone.”

  Hess dipped his head into the gorge and looked back, flashing a small grin. “This probably won’t be pretty.” Hess lowered himself, gradually at first, the scales on his belly expanding and contracting with his flexing muscles. Tobin fought to keep his eyes on the gorge, not on his friend.

  His friend.

  Could they be friends? No. That would be ridiculous. Right?

  Hess slipped. The bulk of his front half finally pulled him completely off the ledge. Tobin cringed when Hes
s half skidded, half rolled down the side of the ravine.

  Tobin’s ears pricked. Twigs snapped and pebbles rolled as Hess fell. Birds and insects went silent; Hess’s tumultuous arrival in the gorge was no secret.

  Hess finally thumped to a stop against a clump of weeds, then he quickly slithered to a boulder jutting up from the canyon floor. He coiled his body, baring his fangs defensively.

  “Ouch,” Talia whispered.

  Tobin stared in the direction of Hess, but the snake wasn’t his focus; the area surrounding the snake was his concern. Any movement could indicate an attacker.

  A leaf blew across the gorge floor.

  Roots dangling down the gorge walls swayed in the breeze.

  Then, a dragonfly flitted off its sheltered perch.

  And that was that. The hum of insect life filled the air. No fox or badger charged forth to try and make a meal of Hess.

  The snake slid away from the rock. “Come down, and hurry straight to me.”

  Tobin met eyes with his sister. “Got it, Tal? Hightail it, right to Hess.”

  She nodded, and Tobin looked to Wiley.

  Wiley wriggled his brow fur. “See ya, slugs.” And with a burst of dust he sprang off the ledge.

  Had there been a gust of wind, every dirt particle would have stuck in Tobin’s wide eyes. “It’s not a race,” he yelled to Wiley’s back end.

  Talia pounced off her perch with a giggle. Tobin dived after her, his claws digging into the gravelly slope. It took one heartbeat to find his footing, and another to spot Talia. He followed behind, matching her paw for paw. Bounding, scrambling, and finally leaping off a notch of root, Tobin slid to a stop beside Hess.

  The snake cocked his head. “You all have no trouble getting around, do you?”

  Wiley rubbed a paw against his chest. “You should see us at the creek bed back home.”

  Talia raised her chin. “May be small, but don’t blink twice, ’cause you’ll never catch the creek-side mice.” She quoted an old mouse tale.

  Hess bowed his head. “It goes without saying, your technique for getting down was far superior to mine.” He slithered atop the boulder and stretched his neck high, surveying their surroundings.