Journey Beyond the Burrow

by Rina Heisel

  For all his whiskers, Tobin wondered if the snake was practically daring any creature watching to come out.

  “Snake’s not scared of much, is he?” Wiley said quietly to Tobin.

  “Nope,” said Tobin. “And it’s starting to make me nervous.”

  “I know.” Talia nodded. “I’m really glad he’s helping us, but what if something happens to him?”

  Wiley snorted. “Like getting stuck in this gorge?”

  “We’ll find a way to get him out,” said Tobin, although sitting in the bottom of the gorge did make the climb out look even steeper. A smattering of dirt falling into the crevice caught his attention, and he looked up.

  A dirty, white, fur-covered snout hung over the ridge. It sniffed, bobbing up and down. The creature dangled by a hairless tail wrapped tightly around the base of a sapling.

  A possum.

  “Wedge yourselves beneath the boulder,” Hess ordered.

  Tobin scurried to the sliver of space where the boulder met the ground, cramming beside Talia and Wiley. As close as they sat, Tobin swore he could feel all three of their heartbeats racing.

  Hess’s hiss echoed from above. A wet sound, like the spray of water hitting boulders in the creek rapids. The possum answered with its own growl, a strange, guttural noise. They did this back and forth, the most terrifying conversation Tobin could imagine.

  Clearly curiosity was getting the better of Talia. “What’s happening?” she called.

  “Hmm? Oh, this possum is trying to frighten me off,” Hess muttered, sounding very annoyed. “Leaving you three sitting here, ripe for the picking.”

  “Ah, sludge, Hess.” Wiley shook his head and called up, “Possums are bat-scat bizarre. Try giving it a good scare. Maybe it’ll play dead.”

  After another series of snake and possum hisses and growls, Hess answered, “This one’s quite a brute, Wiley. I’m not sure it would play possum for me. I think you’re all just going to have to join me up here.”

  Talia’s head snapped up. “Excuse me?”

  “Just climb up, stay close, and hopefully it’ll get the message that we’re—well, a pack of some kind.”

  Wiley flicked his tail in circles. “This possum could call us all bat-scat bizarre. What do you think, Tobin?”

  “Well . . .” Tobin paused as the tug-of-war played out in his mind. Trust Hess and sit out in the open, exposed? It’s not like Hess slithered off after getting thumped by that fox; surely he wouldn’t ditch them over a grumpy possum? “Let’s try it,” Tobin said, and he stepped from beneath the rock. He pulled himself atop the boulder. The moment the possum laid eyes on him, it tilted its upside-down head and huffed.

  Hess raised himself high, balancing almost half the length of his body straight up in the air. His lip scales curled back, showing jagged teeth. He cracked his mouth open. It opened, wider and wider. Impossibly wide—like his lower jaw might drop clear to the ground wide.

  “Tobin, look away!”

  He heard Talia cry out to him, but he couldn’t look away. The gross fascination doubled when the smell of death wafted from Hess’s mouth to Tobin’s nostrils.

  “Close your eyes, Tobin!”

  The fangs, the smell of death—Tobin’s legs wobbled.

  Uh-oh.

  He’d contracted Rodent Panic.

  Rule #20: When all cues point toward your impending death, embrace the numbness of Rodent Panic for an easier demise.

  Like his bones had been replaced with molasses, Tobin slumped to the boulder. His breath came in short gasps. This. Isn’t. Happening . . .

  Tobin tried lifting his head, but it felt rooted to the ground.

  A pair of paws clamped over his eyes, shutting his eyelids.

  “Listen to my voice, forget the other stuff. Tchirr, tchirr. Tchirr, tchirr.”

  Talia’s voice. Tobin concentrated, hard.

  Tchirr, tchirr. Tchirr, tchirr.

  A tingle spread through his body, like the prickle of his paw waking up if he’d sat on it too long.

  “Snap out of it, birdbrain.”

  Ah. Wiley decided to chime in.

  Tobin drew long, steady breaths. C’mon, body! Let’s move.

  His nose twitched. Then his paws. With great effort, he tucked his chin, making sure his eyes looked down, and he cracked his eyelids open. Talia was beside him, her eyes shut tight and her paws kneading his shoulder.

  “I’m coming around,” Tobin croaked.

  “Good,” Talia said breathlessly between tchirrs. “Hess is putting on quite a show—tchirr, tchirr—and we have no business watching it.”

  Peeking from nearly shut eyes, Tobin searched for Wiley.

  His friend sat perched beside Hess’s tail, so Tobin opened his eyes farther.

  Of course, Wiley looked anything but scared—his fur stood puffed out on end, making him appear twice his size. Wiley snarled and snapped at the possum. Tobin curled his own lips back, which helped make his own fur puff up. Wiley might truly feel feisty, but Tobin could try to fake it (as long as he didn’t actually look at Hess or the possum).

  Rule #12: Whether you feel brave or not, going through the motions can trigger an empowering response.

  Tobin growled. He thrashed his tail. Instantly, his blood pumped quicker. His legs prickled with energy. “Tal, start growling,” he said to his sister.

  If this possum wanted a fight, it was going to get one.

  Thirteen

  USING A TAIL THAT looked a lot like a giant earthworm, the possum pulled its dangling body back onto the ridge. There it crouched, resting its wiry-furred muzzle on its paws, watching them.

  Tobin heard a snap! And glimpsing through half-closed eyes, he saw Hess’s jaws clamp back together.

  Never taking his stare off the nosy nuisance perched on the ridge above, Hess spoke. “Tobin, climb onto my back.”

  Tobin’s growl fizzled to a low rumble. “What did you say?”

  “We need to move out of this possum’s territory before it thinks it really has something to fight for.”

  Wiley reared onto his hind legs, inspecting the snake’s back. “There’s not really much to hold on to up there.”

  “Just dig your claws in,” said Hess. “My scales are thick. I want to keep my eyes on the possum. If you’re up there, I know you’re safe.”

  Talia’s whiskers quivered. “I’ll get on!” She scrambled up Hess’s side, disappearing on his back. The possum’s ivory fangs chattered; it clearly did not approve of the strange scene below.

  “No one will believe this back home,” Tobin said before leaping onto Hess’s back. Landing just behind his sister, he gasped seeing how her claws were pressed deep into Hess’s scales.

  “He doesn’t seem to mind,” she said quickly. “Honest. He didn’t twitch or anything.”

  Wiley landed behind him, and Tobin flattened his ears. “Dig in, I guess.” Tobin’s claws sank into the scaly texture, and Talia was right—Hess didn’t even flinch.

  The snake’s attention was still on the possum. Hess called back, “Are you all set?”

  Tobin wriggled his nose, then his back end, adjusting his balance. “I guess so.”

  “Here we go,” said Hess.

  The movement was not what Tobin expected. Hess slid backward, dropping his back end off the boulder first. Tobin thrashed his tail, tweaking his balance. A nervous laugh flittered from Talia as she adjusted her grip. But they stayed on.

  “Sludge, Tobin!” said Wiley. “Watch your tail.”

  “I couldn’t help it,” Tobin said.

  The possum stomped its paw. Its black eyes burned, mad with confusion.

  “Calm yourself, twigs-for-brains,” Hess muttered, slithering to the far wall of the gorge. “We’ll move faster if you three keep your eyes on our friend up there while I get us across.”

  “Got it,” answered Talia.

  With Talia and Wiley both on possum watch, Tobin looked ahead. He wanted to make sure Hess was looking for a route they could all take out o
f the gorge.

  They slithered around a curve in the gorge, and for a moment, Tobin enjoyed the smooth, swerving glide of riding atop a snake. If we could do this for fun sometime . . .

  Tobin shook his head. The pinkling. Getting Hess out of the ravine. Not a good time for silly thoughts.

  “Possum’s gone,” Wiley announced. “Climbed back up its tree.”

  “About time,” said Hess.

  About a frog’s-leap up the canyon wall, a puff of dust caught Tobin’s eye. He craned his head to the side. “Hess, look up.”

  Again—a splay of sand spurted from between two exposed tree roots. When the sand settled, Tobin could see an opening on the wall of the canyon between the roots.

  Hess stopped and swung his head back to look for the possum.

  “Look.” Tobin whispered. “Something’s digging between those roots. Watch.”

  They waited. First came the sound of claws—large claws—on packed earth.

  Scritch-scritch-scritch.

  Soon a few pebbles fell down the bank, then a cloud of sand and dirt flew through the air.

  Talia loosened her grip from Hess’s hide. “I can climb up there and take a look.”

  “Wait.” Tobin thumped his paw on her tail. “Not alone. Could be a rabbit hole, but it could also be a badger.”

  “It’s not too far up.” Hess stretched his neck. “I might be able to take a look.”

  “No offense, Hess.” Wiley hopped off the serpent. “But you might scare the tail off whatever’s in there, and we only want to talk to it.”

  Another pitch of rubble. Tobin leaped, clinging to the dirt ridges of the wall. Wiley and Talia followed. They remained still, listening for the burrowing creature.

  Scritch-scritch-scritch.

  Tobin started climbing. “Get to the side before we’re dumped on.”

  Another wave of sand and pebbles flew from the dugout. Tobin sniffed. There was a musky scent, but not heavy like a badger or fox. The creature shuffled away—this was a rodent for sure, but Tobin couldn’t tell what sort.

  “I’ll go,” Wiley whispered.

  Tobin nodded and watched Wiley slink into the opening all the rubble had been flying out of. A few heartbeats later, Wiley chattered his teeth, calling them up.

  Tobin and Talia scaled the roots edging the entrance, and Hess raised his head high. Wiley sat on the lip of the opening, grinning. “Good news. No, great news.”

  “What?” Talia said.

  “We have a woodchuck in here,” said Wiley. “He’s gone back down the corridor, but I got a good look at his rear end, and this is a definitely a woodchuck burrow.”

  “Yes! That’s perfect,” said Tobin.

  Hess looked from mouse to mouse. “I’m definitely missing something here. What’s so great about woodchucks?”

  “Woodchucks eat grass and clover, which means these tunnels”—Tobin pointed to the gaping hole beside him—“have to lead up.”

  “Yes,” Talia chimed, “if we use these tunnels, we can all get out of this gorge.”

  Tobin perched on the tunnel ridge beside Wiley. Talia followed, and they all gazed into the woodchuck burrow. It was about two hare-leaps deep before it cranked to the right.

  Scritch-scritch-scritch. The woodchuck was coming.

  Tobin cleared his throat. “Now all we have to do is introduce ourselves.”

  Fourteen

  TOBIN BRUSHED THE DIRT off his head and swiped the dust from his whiskers. Climbing beneath a tunnel excavation project was dirty business, and he wanted to make a good impression. “What should we say?”

  Wiley shrugged. “Let’s just tell him to back up a minute, because we have a snake coming through.”

  Talia flattened an ear. “That’s not very nice.”

  “So?” said Wiley. “What if we ask nice and he says no?”

  “Hang on,” Tobin said. Splashes of dirt pitched into the corridor from around the bend. The woodchuck was getting close with its next load of debris. “I have an idea, just let me talk.”

  “Fine,” Talia and Wiley answered together.

  “And Hess, you stay low.” Clearing his throat, Tobin took another step, deeper into the tunnel. “Hello?”

  The digging claws stopped scraping. Loud sniffing sounds echoed down the passage. Tobin took a deep breath. “Sorry to bother you, we just have a quick question.”

  A snort. Paw stomps.

  Wiley stepped back. “It’s gonna trample us.”

  Tobin shook his head and called out tried again. “We don’t mean any harm.”

  Tobin never thought a creature with that much bulk could move so fast. The woodchuck darted around the bend, stopping just a frog’s-leap in front of them.

  Talia sprang back, grasping a dangling root outside the entrance.

  “Wait, wait,” Tobin yelled. He held out his paw to the woodchuck.

  The woodchuck narrowed its eyes and lowered its head. Tobin caught its scent; definitely a boar, and the broadest-shouldered woodchuck he’d ever seen.

  “Sorry to bother you.” Tobin tried speaking slow and steady, but his thrumming heart made it difficult. “I was just hoping my friends and I could use your tunnels to climb out of this gorge.”

  The woodchuck’s nose twitched as he sniffed them suspiciously. “What ya say?”

  Feeling a little more confident they wouldn’t be trampled, Tobin asked again. “My name’s Tobin. We’d just like to climb topside, with your permission.”

  “Huh.” The woodchuck shifted his weight, eyeing him suspiciously. “Tobin, eh? What are ya, lazy? Yer a mouse. Climb the wall outside. And yer friends, too. Yer all climbers, right?”

  “Mostly,” Tobin said. “Except one of our friends is having a little trouble.”

  The woodchuck squinted, looking at Wiley, then to the still-dangling Talia. “Rah! You look spry enough to me.”

  “Well,” said Tobin, “our friend is still down there. He can climb up to your den, but not much farther.”

  “Is he hurt?”

  “No,” said Tobin, “he’s a snake.”

  The woodchuck’s jaw dropped. He stammered, “Are—Are you diseased? Got some parasite living in yer brain? Disturb my work for nonsense—”

  Tobin shook his head. “Please! I promise, um . . . What’s your name?”

  The woodchuck settled back on his haunches. “Hubbart.”

  “Hubbart.” Tobin spoke quickly. “Just let us through, and the snake will do you a huge favor.”

  “You,” Hubbart huffed, “are crazier than a two-beaked blackbird.”

  Wiley snorted, seeming amused with the whole situation.

  “Just hear me out,” Tobin said. “If you let us pass, our snake friend—a large snake—can mark his scent over your tunnel entrances. It’s powerful stuff, enough to deter more than a few predators.”

  Hubbart rested his head on his paw. “Yes, that would be quite a lucky thing—if I believed you.”

  “Let me show you.”

  “All right, mouse,” said Hubbart, rolling his paw in the air. “Show me how this charade ends. Show me your snake friend.”

  Tobin stepped to the rim of the tunnel. “Hess, can you come up—slowly—and say hello?”

  Hess slithered against the canyon wall and looked up, his gold eyes twinkling like stars against a black sky. “I can make it,” he answered.

  “He’s coming.” Tobin looked up to Talia. “Better get in here and make room.”

  Talia swung and dropped from her root, landing back inside the tunnel. She skittered to Hubbart. “I’m Talia.”

  “Charmed,” Hubbart replied.

  Tobin and Wiley stepped back as the black tip of the serpent’s snout rose into view.

  “Rah!” Hubbart gasped. The fur on his nose stood straight up. “What is this? How can it be?”

  Hess’s head crested into the entrance and he rested his jaws on the floor.

  Hubbart began to tremble.

  “Don’t be scared, Hubbart!” Talia hop
ped beside Hess’s jaws, placing a paw on his cheek. “See? He won’t hurt you, we promise.”

  “It can’t be,” the woodchuck whispered.

  “So, Hess,” Tobin began quickly, “I was telling Hubbart—this is Hubbart, by the way—if he lets us use his tunnels, you’ll mark the entrances with your snake scent.”

  Hess snorted. Tobin recognized it as Hess’s laugh, but that knowledge did Hubbart little good. The woodchuck flinched, a low rumble sounding from his chest.

  “Talia, why don’t you and Wiley go on ahead with Hubbart? I’ll wait here for Hess to climb in and do his work.”

  Talia stepped in front of the woodchuck. “I’ve never seen a woodchuck den.”

  Hubbart blinked, looking to the little mouseling in front of his nose. He sighed. “Oh, what the hay. Let’s go.”

  The bulky woodchuck shuffled backward and slipped around the bend, Talia and Wiley following.

  “Interesting idea, Tobin,” said Hess.

  “Oh, yeah.” Tobin batted away the dust on his whiskers. “Thanks for going along. Talia really didn’t want us to bully our way through, so I thought this might smooth things a bit.”

  “You’re good at that. Finding the compromise,” said Hess.

  Tobin laughed. “Am I?”

  “Yes.” Hess smiled. “Rubbing a scent gland certainly beats having to wrestle past a pudgy woodchuck.” Hess reared his head and rubbed his cheek along the stubbly entrance, leaving the strong scent of snake on the gravel.

  “Hope that’s not too uncomfortable,” said Tobin.

  Hess swiped his other gland along the bottom ridge. “It doesn’t bother me at all. Now stand back, I’m going to need some room getting in there.”

  Tobin scampered deeper inside, giving the snake plenty of room to wiggle. Hess wedged his nose into cracks along the floor, using his snout to pull himself up. He flexed his stomach muscles and smoothly slid the rest of the way in.

  Tobin scurried ahead around the bend until the passage split in two. “Which way do you suppose they went?”

  Hess flicked his tongue. “This way.”

  The snake pulled ahead, and Tobin trotted behind, admiring Hubbart’s handiwork. The woodchuck’s den was the most complex piece of tunneling he’d ever seen. Hess’s tongue led the way along a shaft that wove and ducked around a massive knot of tree roots. Tobin imagined an enormous tree looming above. The light faded as they plunged deeper into the warren, passing huge, hollowed-out chambers filled with turnips and other delicacies. It was cool and dark, reminding Tobin of home.