“No,” said Mona. “This is a hotel.”
“Hotel?” Brumble looked up at the giant tree and shook his head in astonishment. “Fancy that.”
“I’m afraid we don’t have rooms large enough for bears,” Mona said. “There is a den,” she added, “upstream a ways. Maybe it’s yours.”
“Ah.” Brumble smiled. “That must be it. My memory’s just not…” He rubbed his nose with his paw and gave another yawn.
“We all forget things,” said Mona. “Don’t worry.”
“Thank you kindly.” His eyelids began to droop.
“Do you want to go there?” said Mona.
Brumble’s eyes snapped open. “Go where?”
“To your den!”
“Ah. Yes. Of course. Which way did you say it was?”
“Just upstream,” said Mona.
“Ah. Good. Better get going, then. There’s nothing like home. Just got to find it.”
And with that, and another rumbling yawn, Brumble awkwardly pushed himself back up, squishing mushroom lanterns in the process, and turned around and rambled…downstream!
“Wait!” cried Mona. “You’re going the wrong way.”
Brumble stopped and shook his head. “Shucks.” He gave another yawn and turned around.
What if he got lost again, or fell asleep on the way to his den? Mona made a quick decision. “Mr. Brumble, I can come with you, if you’d like, and show you the way.”
“You’d do that?”
Mona nodded.
“Gosh. You sure are nice.”
It didn’t take long to reach the bear’s den. Although at first Mona was very scared, Brumble insisted she ride on his back, and so she did, clinging to his fur and listening to him yawn and ramble. As it turned out, this den wasn’t his usual one, and that was part of the reason he was lost. Just as he was beginning his winter sleep, he had been woken up by howling wolves. They were so noisy they kept him up, so he decided to move to his childhood den instead. Wolves again! thought Mona. They really were in Fernwood Forest.
When they reached the enormous tree, Brumble sighed happily. Mona slid down off his back and watched as he wiggled himself through the opening. It was a tight fit for him now, but she imagined it wouldn’t have been when he was a cub.
“If you are ever in need of a Brumble, you’ll know where to find me,” he said to her from inside the den, his voice muffled. His black tail disappeared into the darkness. “Home,” he said. “There’s nowhere like home.” And then came a yawn—and snoring.
Brumble’s words echoed in Mona’s mind as she hurried back to the Heartwood.
By the time Mona returned, slipping under blackberry vines and in through the garden door, the hotel seemed to be back to normal. No alarms or terrified guests, only the sound of Cybele’s sweet voice drifting from the ballroom. She headed downstairs, hoping to find Mr. Heartwood. She wanted to tell him what Brumble had said about the wolves. Instead, she found Tilly in the kitchen, poking her paw into an acorn soufflé. Tilly’s tail was bristled up and her paws seemed to be shaking.
The squirrel looked up at Mona, gulped down her bite, and snapped, “Where have YOU been? Were you hiding? Well, it’s about time you came back. We have to get the dining hall ready. Mr. Heartwood is throwing a special dinner for the guests to make up for this morning. The bear is gone.”
“I know,” said Mona proudly. “I wasn’t hiding. I was the one who took him home. And he told me something, too….I need to talk to Mr. Heartwood.”
Tilly’s eyes grew wide. Then they narrowed. “I wouldn’t talk to Mr. Heartwood if I were you. You shouldn’t have left your post. That’s a rule.”
“But I was helping the bear,” said Mona.
“And now you need to help me,” said Tilly. “Come on. We have work to do.”
Mona hesitated. But Brumble had moved closer to the Heartwood to get away from the wolves, so that meant they were still a long way away. Too far from the hotel to cause trouble.
At least, that’s what she hoped.
The incident with the bear had left a feeling of unease among the guests. Mr. Heartwood ordered that no staff were to mention the occurrence. And so Mona kept thoughts of Brumble to herself over the next few weeks, while she worked extra hard to prepare for the First Snow Festival.
Everyone was working hard. Ms. Prickles was already planning out the dishes, including lots of hearty soups and stews and ginger cakes. Cybele was practicing new songs, good ones to dance to, and Mr. Higgins had stacked wood by the hearth, ready for the first fire. Mona had spent hours helping Tilly clean out the walnut-shell lanterns and putting new candles inside each one. On the day of the festival, they all—guests and staff—would get to decorate the outside of the tree with the lanterns, hanging them off the branches from the balconies. And then they would light them, just for the night, to welcome the First Snow.
It was, according even to Tilly, beautiful.
Will I get to see it? Mona wondered. Mr. Heartwood hadn’t mentioned her leaving—not even when he gave her her first Fernwood farthings—nor had Mrs. Higgins, but Tilly was always reminding her.
When Mona asked her if she could put up a pretty black-and-white picture that Lady Sudsbury wanted to give her in their room, Tilly said, “You can’t take gifts from guests! That’s a rule. And there’s no point in decorating anyway. You won’t be here much longer.”
Mona knew Tilly was right. After all, the fall season ended with the First Snow Festival. And she was only supposed to stay for the fall.
The air grew crisper, more guests arrived, more decorations were hung, and soon the festival was only a day away. It had been a busy morning, and as Mona was passing through the lobby on her way to lunch, Gilles asked her to watch the front desk.
“I’ve just had word from the messenger jay. The Newtons have cancelled,” he cried, with a tsk and a flick of his tongue. “This will never do. I must tell Mr. Heartwood. Those newts are some of our oldest guests, and they always book the penthouse for the First Snow. Now the suite will sit empty! This is almost worse than a bad review in the Pinecone Press. Now, a good review…well, that just might change things.”
It wasn’t the first time Mona had watched the desk. She often did when Gilles took sun-basking breaks on sunny days.
“You remember where the papers are? Not that anyone is likely to come in, mind. There are no expected check-ins.”
“Yes,” said Mona, straightening her apron.
Gilles set a stack of books on the chair, and Mona climbed up them and settled on top. When the lizard left, she sighed and gazed over at the hearth. The leaf garlands had long been taken down, and now a string of tiny holly berries hung across it. She was imagining the hearth all crackling and cozy when her thoughts were interrupted by a small voice, “Excuse me, a little service please?”
Mona looked across the desk but saw no one. She stood up on the piles of books and peered over the desk. A large June bug stared back up at her, antennas twitching. She was shiny emerald-purple, like an iridescent jewel, and was wearing glittering dark glasses. Four of the bug’s six legs were holding tiny suitcases.
“Oh, hello,” said Mona as politely as she could. She clambered down from the books and hurried around the desk.
The bug set down her suitcases. “I must say, it certainly wasn’t easy to find this establishment,” she huffed.
“Oh,” said Mona. “I’m so sorry to hear that.”
“There were no maps, no directions. Not even a sign,” the bug went on. “But I suppose security is the purpose?” The bug paused and surveyed the lobby.
“Of course,” agreed Mona, adding, “How can I help you?”
“Most obviously I am seeking accommodation,” said the bug. “I am looking for a room. The most commendable room you can offer. I have come to stay for your festival.”
“It is a wonderful festival,” said Mona enthusiastically. “If you could just wait a moment for our front-desk staff—”
“Are
you not at the front desk?” The June bug twitched her antennas in displeasure.
“Yes, well, of course,” said Mona. She thought for a moment. “We do have the penthouse suite available, and it is our grandest room.”
“Grand, hmm.” The bug looked a little surprised. “That seems satisfactory.”
“Could I have your name?”
The bug paused, “Ms. J, if you please.”
“Your full name?” asked Mona.
The insect paused again. “That is my full name,” she replied decisively.
“Oh, okay. Well, Ms. J, I assure you we can make the room fit your needs.” Mona smiled. “Extra pillows for the bed, and stools and stepladders—so it’s easy to reach things.”
“Ah,” Ms. J said, seeming surprised again. “Yes, that should be adequate.” She opened one of her four suitcases, which was full of Fernwood farthings.
“It will be five, please,” said Mona, checking the room-fee form to make sure. It was only one farthing for a regular room, but the penthouse was extra expensive, of course.
Ms. J handed the farthings to Mona, one by one. Then she opened another case and took out a notebook and pen.
As Ms. J jotted something down, Mona climbed up to the desk to prepare the check-in form. She couldn’t believe she was booking the penthouse! And just after Gilles had been so unhappy about the cancellation. He would be really pleased. Maybe he would even tell Mr. Heartwood.
“Here is your key,” said Mona, scampering back down and around the desk to hand it to the bug. The key was almost as big as Ms. J. But the bug didn’t seem to mind. It was on a string, which she looped through the handle of one of her suitcases.
“The penthouse is on the top floor,” said Mona. “The dining hall is open all day. There is a games room and a salon on the second floor. Tomorrow is the big festival. The lantern lighting will take place at dusk and will be followed by a big feast.”
“Yes, yes,” said the June bug. “And what of your precautions against predators? There was rumor of a bear?”
Mona gulped. She knew Mr. Heartwood didn’t want anyone talking about it, but she thought the truth was probably best. “That was a simple misunderstanding on the part of Brumb—of the bear. We all work together here at Heartwood to provide you with the utmost comfort and safety. See?”—Mona pointed at the sign above the hearth—“We Live by ‘Protect and Respect,’ Not by ‘Tooth and Claw.’”
“Hmm, I shall see about that,” said Ms. J, jotting something else in her notebook. “I would prefer a statement that refers specifically to no prejudice against six-legged creatures. But you assure me that there will be no complications during my stay? I’ve heard of a policy….”
Mona paused. Hadn’t Tilly once said something about six-leggeds and needing to be extra careful since they were so small? Surely that wouldn’t be a problem. “Everything will be fine,” she said.
The bug looked at her with her antennas twitching, as though wanting more.
“I…I promise,” she added.
“Very well,” the bug finally said. “The top floor, you say?”
“Yes, to the right. Do you need help with your bags? Or the key?”
The June bug declined and put away her notebook. Then she picked up her suitcases and, to Mona’s surprise, began to fly. Weighted by her suitcases and the key, the bug was a little wobbly, but she soon disappeared up the stairs with the key dangling down.
Mona watched proudly, then made a note to send up pillows and stepladders.
“Is that a bug I see heading upstairs?” cried Gilles, arriving back at the desk a second later.
“Yes,” said Mona. “Her name is Ms. J. She’s just booked the penthouse.”
“An insect?” cried Gilles. “You booked an insect?” Gilles’s tongue flashed in and out furiously. “Don’t you know anything? There are NO bugs at the Heartwood.”
And that’s when Mona remembered that Tilly had never actually said what the rule was about six-leggeds. Mona had just assumed the rule was to be extra careful not to step on them—not that bugs weren’t allowed in the hotel at all! Then immediately she remembered Ms. J’s concern regarding complications. Had Ms. J known what the rule was about? “But…I don’t understand. I…I told her that there would be no problem. I…I promised.”
“You PROMISED? That does it!” cried Gilles. “We can’t ask her to leave. That would cause too much of a fuss. Oh…Mr. Heartwood is going to be furious.”
“B-but…” stammered Mona. She still didn’t understand. “Should I do anything…?”
“You’ve done enough already,” said Gilles, shaking his head and sighing deeply. “Just go.”
Mona stumbled away from the desk toward the stairs, not knowing where exactly she should go. Maybe the kitchen. Maybe Ms. Prickles would make her feel better.
But in the kitchen, instead of Ms. Prickles, she found Tilly, munching some nuts.
“What’s the matter with you?” said Tilly.
Mona told her, in halting words. Tilly’s eyes flashed.
“You broke another rule!”
“I was only trying to help, to treat a guest with respect, like the sign says….”
“Help?! You’re going to be in heaps of trouble! Heaps!”
“But—”
“You’ll be fired for sure.” Tilly smirked. “If I were you, I’d leave now.”
Tears pricked Mona’s eyes as Tilly kept going. But Mona wasn’t listening anymore. She was trying not to cry. She didn’t want to. Not in front of Tilly. She never thought she would be fired. She thought she had been doing the right thing. But Gilles was so upset. Tilly was probably right. Mr. Heartwood was nice, but he did have his rules and he could get really mad. She remembered how he was when Brumble had been there not so long ago.
But she was mad, too. Mad at Tilly! Maybe if Tilly hadn’t always been so short with her, she would know the rules and the reasons for them!
“I know you’ve never liked me,” she burst, “though I don’t know why. I’ve always tried to do my best. We could have been friends. But you don’t want any friends. Ms. Prickles said you have hurts, but all I think is that you like hurting others! You’re always trying to get me in trouble. Well, I hope you’re happy, because now you have!”
Tilly was speechless.
Mona didn’t wait for Tilly to respond. She took off her apron and threw it down, hard, on the kitchen table. Her mind was a rush of emotions, and her paws rushed, too—downstairs.
Mona had to leave anyway. Why not now? Before Mr. Heartwood fired her.
And so, whiskers trembling, she put the farthings she’d earned in her pocket and collected her suitcase. Clutching it tightly, she returned to the kitchen—Tilly was thankfully no longer there—and stuffed the case full of seedcakes and a jar of honey. Then, though her heart told her not to, Mona the mouse left the Heartwood Hotel.
Fernwood Forest had changed in the months Mona had been at the Heartwood, even since her adventure with Brumble. Except for the evergreens, the trees were now mostly bare, and the ground was cold and hard on Mona’s paws. Plants and flowers had tucked themselves away, and the stream was flowing slowly, gurgling, Winter’s near. It’s almost here. Winter’s near….
Yes, the forest had changed, but Mona had changed, too. Before, she hadn’t minded the slumbering, slow forest, as long as she had some food and a place to sleep. Now it felt so lonely and cold and quiet. Already she missed the warm mossy carpets and the chatter of the guests, the smell of the seedcakes and the song of the swallow. She missed the hotel.
But she couldn’t go back. Not only because of the rules (which, truthfully, she didn’t regret breaking) or how she’d left, rushing out (which already she did regret) but because she wasn’t wanted. Tilly had made that clear.
And so Mona trudged on, looking for somewhere she could sleep. The daylight was fading and she tried not to think too much about the First Snow Festival and all the excitement she’d be missing.
When night arri
ved, she found a hollow log and clambered inside. The log was damp—too damp to make a good home—but mostly protected from the wind. Mona curled up beside her suitcase and traced the heart with one paw. Her stomach rumbled and she took out one of the seedcakes—only one, because she wanted them to last.
As she nibbled it, the taste brought back a memory—the smell of toasted seedcakes with acorn butter, and her mother’s voice, “Seedcakes for my sweet Mona.” The picture in her mind was fuzzy, but now she was certain, her mom had made seedcakes for her. Seedcakes that tasted exactly like this. But how had she gotten Ms. Prickles’s recipe? Now Mona would never know. She had ruined her chances of finding out. Her appetite disappeared and she couldn’t finish the seedcake. She put it back, touching the heart once more as she closed the case. She shivered. If only she had a cup of Ms. Prickles’s hot honey tea. She was just closing her eyes to dream of one when she heard a voice.
“Anytime now, I reckon. And then we feast. Scrumptious squirrels, heavenly hares, meaty moles!”
The voice sent shivers up and down Mona’s spine.
“Ah, shut your trap,” came another voice. “You’re making me drool.”
“Me too.”
“Me three.”
And then a whole chorus of them chimed in, yessing and yipping and pawing the ground. It was wolves! Mona clutched her case tight and kept very, very still.
When the yipping ended, one particularly gruff-sounding wolf said, “The plan had better work.”
“Of course it’s going to work. We wait till we see the lit-up tree. The tree with lights, that’s the one. More than enough animals in there to feed our pack and then some.”
But the gruff wolf continued, “Something’s going to go wrong. I just know it. I don’t like all this waiting, Gnarl.”
“Waiting is better than chasing jackrabbits, Wince. Did I tell you ’bout the time I found that mole clubhouse? Ah, I wasn’t hungry for a week, I say.”
“How can we forget, with you wearing that badge around your neck like you’re…you’re too good for us.”
A True Home Page 5
