by Lynne Jonell
Mother said, “I hope you’re not still a hamster tomorrow, because I’d like to see my little girl again,” and Celia felt a sudden longing for her mother so strong that she almost jumped out of bed and ran to her. Abner had a pang somewhere in his chest—what would his mother say if Celia never was a little girl again?—and he felt more responsible than ever.
But Tate said, “I’m sure she’ll be your girl again in the morning,” which she felt was a nice thing to say, even if she didn’t quite believe it.
Derek didn’t say anything. He was already fast asleep in the boys’ bedroom, sprawled across the bed with the covers in a bunch. Then after a while Tate went to sleep, too, and it was up to Abner to stay awake. He had to keep Celia quiet and listen for the silence that meant his parents had finally gone to bed.
It was dark and very late when Abner lifted a trembling Hammy from the cage. “Listen,” he said, “we’re going to find the Great Hamster, and you’re going to help us.”
Hammy looked up from Abner’s hand, blinking nervously.
“And no pretending you don’t know where she is, just so you don’t get into trouble,” Abner added.
Hammy wiped his paws over his nose and looked as if he were about to cry.
“I’ll tell her that you didn’t mean to hurt anybody,” said Abner, and he tucked Hammy gently in his pocket.
Three sleepy children and one very large hamster tiptoed down the stairs. Celia’s nails click-clacked on the wooden steps, so Abner picked her up. She was not too heavy to carry if he rested now and then. In the dark, Abner could almost pretend that Celia was a little girl again, dressed in very fuzzy pajamas.
But she wasn’t, of course. And when they got to the front door, Celia turned her head, sniffing.
“What’s that wonderful smell?” She wriggled from his arms and slipped to the floor.
Abner reached out, but before he could grab her, Celia had dashed between his legs and down the cellar steps. By the time he caught up with her, she was in the corner with the bag of Woofies dog biscuits, stuffing her cheek pouches full.
“Come on!” said Abner. “Don’t be a pig.”
“But they’re so yummy, Abner!” Celia said thickly, through falling crumbs. “I can’t explain it, but this is the best thing I’ve eaten in my life!”
From Abner’s pocket, Hammy squeaked agreement.
“So chewy!” Celia closed her eyes in bliss. “Yet so crunchy!”
Hammy squeaked again, a sharp series of chirps.
“Okay.” Celia snagged two more doggy treats with her small, four-fingered paw and tucked them in Abner’s pocket with Hammy. She looked up at her brother, her whiskers quivering. “You should try one, Abner. They’re so sweet! So tasty! So—”
“I get the idea,” Abner said grumpily. “But let’s go.” He got a good grip on the scruff of her neck and urged her up the stairs.
The night air was cool, and the sky was flecked with stars. High above rode the moon, and the three children looked about them with wonder. They had never been out so late before.
But Celia was a hamster, and she wasted no time in looking at the stars. She darted across the yard and into darkness.
“Hey!” Abner’s whisper was hoarse. He took off after his reckless sister—and then he tripped. Luckily, he remembered to twist so that he fell on the side where Hammy wasn’t. The little hamster was only shaken, not squashed.
Abner had landed heavily on his shoulder and wrenched it, and twisted his knee. He lay on the ground, his pajamas getting damp from the grass, and wished most passionately that he weren’t the oldest. If he were the youngest, he could throw a tantrum and refuse to go one more step, and no one would think anything of it.
“What do we do now?” asked Tate. She took Hammy from Abner and soothed him, petting the fur between his ears with a careful finger.
Abner struggled to sit up. What should they do now? It wasn’t much good going to see the Great Hamster without Celia. “I think,” he said slowly, “that we should—”
“Hey!” Derek scrambled to his feet. “Look!”
In the moonlight, Derek’s pointing finger could be clearly seen. Abner looked, and saw a black shadow rapidly coming near. It panted like an energetic dog.
“Everybody grab her when she comes by,” Abner said, his voice low. He got into position, his sore shoulder forgotten. Celia galloped past, pale in the moonlight like some kind of furry ghost. But when Abner leaped, his knee gave way under him, and he missed her by inches.
Tate hadn’t moved at all. “Don’t look at me,” she said. “I’m holding Hammy.”
Abner was too busy nursing his knee to answer. Still, when a sliding, grunting sound came to his ears, he looked up. There was the shadow of Celia again, only she was moving much more slowly. And dragging behind her, hanging grimly on to one hind leg, was Derek.
“Good man, Derek,” said Abner. “Celia, stop this minute and let him get on your back. No, I don’t care if you think he’s heavy. You need something to slow you down.”
They all went on toward the river. Derek’s weight kept Celia to a walk, and he was happy to ride. “You’re my horse,” he said, gripping the loose skin behind her ears. “And I’m going to call you White Streak.”
“I’m a wild horse,” said Celia, and she began to buck.
“Settle down,” snapped Abner. His shoulder hurt, his knee was making him limp, and he was in no mood for any nonsense.
They walked on in silence. The only sounds were the whisper of their feet on grass and the buzzing of night insects. Stars twinkled around the edge of the sky, where the moon was not so bright, and the air was cool and magical.
When they came to the tall row of cypress trees that marked the edge of the road, they followed them down a slight incline to the river, which chuckled and murmured in between sandy banks.
“Now,” said Abner, “does anyone have any string?”
No one did. “Why do you need it?” asked Tate.
Abner shrugged, wincing as his shoulder moved. “How were you going to get Hammy to lead us to the Great Hamster once we got here?”
Tate frowned. “I don’t know. I guess just put him on the ground and tell him to go find her.”
“Not good enough,” Abner said. “What if he decided to run away? No, we’ve got to use some kind of leash.”
“But he’s a person,” said Celia, her whiskers bristling. “He talks. You can’t just treat him like a pet.”
“He doesn’t talk anymore,” said Abner. “And we still need a leash.”
Tate, after a moment’s thought, pulled the ribbon from her ponytail and held it out to Abner. “Is this good enough?”
Abner examined the long, thin ribbon. It was soft yet strong. “Perfect.” He tied a loose knot in one end and threaded the other end through the hole in the middle. Then he slipped the loop over Hammy’s head.
“Now,” Abner said, “this won’t hurt you. It’ll just make sure we don’t lose you in the dark. But don’t try to run away, or you might get choked.”
Hammy at once headed up the bank, away from the river’s edge.
“Oh, no you don’t,” said Abner firmly, lifting the hamster back down. “No trying to avoid it. You said she lived by the river, and we would get our feet sandy, and here we are. She’s got to be close. So just stay on the sand and head for her burrow, and we’ll call her.”
Softly, one after the other, the children called, “Great Hamster! Great Hamster!” And though Abner felt half-foolish, and Tate a quarter so, they went on calling, and kept Hammy from climbing the banks in his attempts to escape. Derek called, too, but Celia wouldn’t. She paced along the top of the low bluff above the sandy bank, because something about the water made her feel very uncomfortable.
At last, tired out, Abner stopped. He sat down on a fallen log, and everyone else dropped where they stood. Tate cupped Hammy in her hands. “Why won’t you lead us there? You know where she lives.”
Hammy, looking desperate,
squeaked.
“I’m sorry you can’t talk anymore,” Tate went on, “but really, Hammy, you can do better than this.”
“He’s just a coward,” said Abner bitterly. “He’s scared of the Great Hamster, so he keeps trying to run away.”
The little hamster squeaked again and again. Celia, above them on the bank, stopped her pacing and listened. Then she squeaked back.
Hammy, after one startled moment, erupted in a flurry of shrill chirps. He waved his paws and stamped his hind feet in Tate’s palm.
Celia looked down at her brothers and sister. “He’s been trying to lead you all along. The Great Hamster does live near the river, but she’s not right next to it. Hamsters hate water.”
“The book did say that hamsters were desert animals,” said Tate thoughtfully.
“Celia!” Derek scrambled up the bank, grinding sand into the knees of his pajamas. “Can you speak Hamster now?”
Celia hesitated. “I don’t know,” she said. “I can’t really tell what the words are. It’s more like I just know what all the squeaking means.”
“Well, we’d better do what Celia says.” Tate climbed the bluff and set Hammy on the ground once more. “Okay, Hammy, go.”
Abner followed unhappily. If Hammy was just pretending, they would never find the Great Hamster. But if Hammy had been trying to lead them to her all along, then Abner had made a big mistake, and been mean to Hammy as well. Neither option made him feel good, and his knee hurt most abominably.
They were in sand still, only it wasn’t right by the river. They kicked through soft, sculpted dunes on the raised land of the upper banks. Scrubby grasses poked out of the sand, and here and there was a tree with twisted roots that showed above ground.
“Hey, I didn’t know this was here!” Abner said, looking around at the dunes with interest. “What a cool place to play!”
“Hammy knew it was here,” said Tate, and Abner felt ashamed. And then, suddenly, he felt even worse, for a shadow rose out of a hole in the ground. It cast a longer shadow before it, from the moon at its back.
It was a hamster, larger than average (though not nearly so large as Celia). It stood on its hind legs and folded its paws across its furry chest. “Who,” it said, raising its voice strongly, “has put a leash on my child?”
CHAPTER 5
Magic Beneath
“Who has put a leash on my Forvten?” demanded the Great Hamster again, her voice stern and terrible.
The children looked at one another blankly. Forvten?
“You mean Hammy?” said Derek.
The Great Hamster’s fur stood out straight, and she seemed to increase in size. “Forvten,” she repeated, leaning on each syllable, and her long front teeth gleamed in the moonlight. “He is the fourth child of my tenth litter. Four-of-ten. Forvten for short, and certainly not Hammy, whatever you may think.”
“Oh,” said Derek.
“He never said he minded being called Hammy,” said Celia from behind the others.
The Great Hamster seemed to notice the very large hamster for the first time. She reared back and studied Celia, looking her up and down. “I don’t know you,” the Great Hamster said at last. “Are you from Hollowstone, or do you come from Away?”
For the second time the children exchanged glances, and Tate asked the obvious question. “What is Hollowstone?”
“Not ‘what,’ ” snapped the Great Hamster. “ ‘Where.’ Right here is Hollowstone, and burrowers who live here are not ordinary anima—” She bit off the word and puffed out her cheeks. “I don’t want to answer your questions until you answer mine.”
Abner felt himself flush. “It’s my fault. I put the leash on Ham—er, Forvten. And I’m not sure where Hollowstone is, exactly, but we live in the house on the hill.” He bent down, feeling both guilty and annoyed, and fumbled with the knotted ribbon around Hammy’s neck.
Released, the small hamster squeaked, and squeaked again. He scampered to his mother and leaned his head against her side.
The Great Hamster patted his back and listened as he squeaked some more. Then she looked up. “I see,” she said. “You made a very foolish wish, a wish that was almost too big for Forvten. He granted it and drained his power. And now you think I can do something about it.”
“Can’t you?” begged Abner.
“Please?” added Tate.
The Great Hamster pulled at her whiskers, frowning. “No. You’ll just have to wait until it wears off.”
“But it will wear off, then?” Abner took some hope from this. “When?”
“I don’t have any idea,” said the Great Hamster. “We burrowers don’t make the magic. We just let it soak in. Once it’s used, it has to build up again.” She looked down at her small and shamefaced son. “It will be awhile before Forvten can even speak again, I’m afraid. But with any luck”—here she gave him a fond little shake—“he might have learned his lesson.”
“Ham—Forvten didn’t mean to hurt anyone,” said Abner, remembering that he had promised to say this.
The Great Hamster put her paws on her hips. “He knew the rules. Get all wishes approved first. He should have told you that.”
“He did,” said Tate miserably. “But we didn’t listen.”
“I was the one who made the wish,” said Celia. She flattened out her furry body on the sand. “So it’s really my fault.”
“If it hadn’t been Celia,” said Derek suddenly, “it would have been me. I was going to wish for tunnels. Lots of them.”
The Great Hamster’s stern, whiskered face softened. “Well, at least you stand up for each other, as litter-mates should.”
Derek looked uncomfortable. “Sometimes,” he said.
The Great Hamster smiled, her cheeks bunching, and waddled over to the nearest tree. She climbed up the exposed roots to a perch the height of Derek’s shoulder, and settled herself with the dignity of a queen on a throne, or a storyteller.
There was an awkward silence.
“What now?” whispered Tate. “Should we just go home?”
Abner shook his head. “I don’t want to give up,” he whispered back. “Not while Celia is still a hamster.”
Celia crept closer. “I don’t mind it,” she said. “Not really. And I like giving Derek rides.”
Derek threw an arm over Celia’s round, fuzzy back. “When my hockey stick is all chewed up, I’ll let you have my bat,” he promised.
Tate yawned. “Maybe everything will be all right in the morning. Can’t we just go home and go to bed? I’m so tired.”
“Me too,” said Derek, catching Tate’s yawn.
“I should be sleepy,” said Celia, bouncing on her paws, “but I’m not. Can I run, Abner?”
Abner smothered his own yawn and nodded. “Go ahead, but stay close, and come back when you get tired. Come on, the rest of you. I want to ask the Great Hamster a few questions.”
The roots of the giant cottonwood rose high out of the sand and sheltered a hollow place beneath. Derek lay flat on his back, facing the summer night’s sky, and Tate curled up in the sand, her head pillowed on a wide, low root. Abner leaned against the smooth wood—the roots were surprisingly comfortable—and looked up at the Great Hamster, who sat a few inches above his head.
He cleared his throat. “So how does the magic build up? And what do you mean, you let it soak in?”
The Great Hamster shrugged her furry shoulders. “Who knows how it happens? I just know it comes from beneath.”
Abner scooped up a handful of sand and let it sift through his fingers. “The magic is below ground?”
The Great Hamster nodded. “It might be from the earth, or stone, or water, or something else. But the more time an animal spends underground, the more magic it soaks up.”
“So that’s why you said it was burrowers who weren’t ordinary animals.”
“And only burrowers in Hollowstone Hill. From the river to the road, and the road to the forest.”
“That means our hous
e is smack in the middle,” said Abner slowly. He toyed with the idea that came to him. There would be other small animals near the house, easily caught, who might grant wishes, too. Maybe it wasn’t too late to wish for a dog. If two or three burrowers wished together, it wouldn’t be too much for any one of them.
“Why do you call it Hollowstone Hill?” asked Tate sleepily.
The Great Hamster chuckled. “You humans and your questions. It’s called Hollowstone because that’s what it’s always been called. Who knows why? Who cares?”
Celia came zipping past, a flash of teeth and moonlight-tipped fur. Behind her ran a number of smaller shadows. “We’re playing tag!” cried Celia. “I’m faster than anybody!”
Abner looked after her thoughtfully. “Listen,” he said, “I can see why you wouldn’t want to use up your own magic to wish Celia was a girl again.”
“Certainly not,” said the Great Hamster. “I need all my magic to manage these burrowers and keep them from more dumb-fool mistakes like the one Forvten, here, made.”
Abner glanced at Forvten, formerly known as Hammy. He was curled up on a knot of wood and snoring lightly.
“But what if,” Abner began, “it wasn’t just you wishing? What if you got a lot of the burrowers together, and they all used just a little of their magic? Could they turn Celia back again?”
The Great Hamster looked at him shrewdly. “And what makes you think I’d want to do that?”
The question hung in the air. Abner looked to Tate for help, but her eyes were closed. Derek, flat on the sand next to her, was breathing deeply.
“Just to be nice?” Abner suggested.
The Great Hamster chuckled. “Not good enough. Find me something I want, young man, and I’ll consider it. You humans,” she said again, tapping her claws against the hard tree root. “It’s always ‘What can the rodent do for me?’ and never ‘What can I do for the rodent?’ You dig up our burrows. You interfere with our lives. And you half killed my son with your silly wish!”
