“No problem,” said Harriet. “They can go to my castle. Let me write a note to my mom . . .”
“Dear Mom & Dad,” Harriet wrote. “I am sending you these weasel-wolves. They are a pack. The pack leader is a friend of mine. They need a place to stay where they will not be captured. Please take care of them.”
She chewed on the end of her pencil for a moment. Should she add anything else? What did weasel-wolves eat?
“Grasshoppers,” said Grey, when she asked. “About the size of your thumb. And lizards—not like people’s pet lizards, the little snappy ones—and things like that, mostly.”
“You eat grasshoppers?” said Harriet.
“Sure. Don’t you?”
“. . . not usually, no.”
“Oh. You should try it. There’s good eating on a grasshopper.”
“Qwerk!” said Mumfrey, which was Quail for “He’s right, you know.”
Harriet shrugged and added a P.S. to the letter that said, “They eat grasshoppers and lizards and sometimes people.”
“Are you sure it’s safe?” said Wilbur doubtfully. “They won’t just see weasel-wolves and attack first?”
“I’m not sure what else to do,” admitted Harriet.
“We could send Hyacinth. Then they’d know they were friendly.”
“Qwerrkk . . .” said Hyacinth. She looked from Grey to the weasel-wolves, then to Wilbur. “Qwerk!” she said, which was Quail for “I’m a little scared, but I could be brave if the weasels promise not to eat me.”
“If you do this for us,” said Grey, “I promise that no weasel-wolf of my pack will ever hunt you again, from now to the end of the world.”
Hyacinth pulled herself up until she looked every bit as proud as a peacock. “Qwerk,” she said.
The pack crept toward her, bowing very low. “Wrrf,” said Snuffle.
Her head held high, topknot bouncing, Hyacinth led the way back toward the castle, with an honor guard of weasel-wolves on either side.
CHAPTER 16
This is the place where Shaggy Paw disappeared yesterday,” said Grey, stopping. Harriet didn’t know how he could tell one chunk of dark woods from another, but she took his word for it.
“All right,” she said. “Snuffle, can you . . . um . . . frolic in the woods or something?”
“Frolic!” said Harriet. “You know! Like—um—bounce around and attract attention. Sniff butterflies. Pretend you don’t have a care in the world.”
Snuffle looked at her as if she’d lost her mind. Fortunately, people were always giving Harriet this look, so it didn’t bother her.
“We’re going to be in this tree,” said Harriet. “You sit here where she can see you. And if Red comes back, we’ll be right above you.”
They all piled up onto Mumfrey, hanging on opposite sides of the saddle. It was very uncomfortable, but Mumfrey was a strong quail. He took a deep breath, then leaped upward, flapping wildly.
He caught the lowest branch of the tree, scrambled upright, and locked his talons into the bark.
“That was great, Mumfrey!” said Harriet.
“Qwerk.”
“You can open your eyes now, Wilbur.”
“I’d rather not.”
“Now what happens?” asked Grey.
Harriet cracked her knuckles. “Now we wait.”
To give Snuffle the credit he deserved, he tried to frolic. He really tried.
He rolled around on the ground, chased his own tail, gathered flowers—there weren’t really any flowers deep in the woods, so he gathered pine needles and made a rather pointy bouquet out of them. Then he chased his tail some more.
“And this is supposed to convince the creepy little girl in red to kidnap him?” asked Grey dubiously.
“You don’t think she’ll fall for it?”
“I think she’ll be afraid he’s got rabies.”
“Nah, he’d be foaming at the mouth.”
“If he keeps trying to put pine needles up his nose, it may happen.”
“I’m sure it’ll be—aha!”
From their perch in the tree, Harriet could see Red approaching through the woods. She slapped her hand over Grey’s mouth and pointed.
Snuffle continued attempting to frolic.
Red came up to the bushes on the edge of the clearing where Snuffle was chasing his tail. She watched him with a doubtful expression on her face.
Snuffle managed to catch his tail in his mouth and then seemed baffled as to what to do with it.
The hamster girl fought back a smile.
Then her smile faded. She sighed and shook her head and stepped into the clearing.
“Hi,” said the little girl. “You’re kind of cute, aren’t you? You’re the cute little one I keep seeing.”
“Blrrfle?”
“I guess I have to do this,” she said. She pushed her hood back and narrowed her eyes. Snuffle started backing away, but he still had his tail in his mouth, so he went sideways and nearly fell over.
“Aww, you’re so cute,” said the little girl. “You’re not big and scary like the others. But Grandmother says we can’t leave any of you wandering around. And she did say that I could keep one as a pet.”
The little weasel-wolf’s eyes went wide. Then Red crouched down and began to stare.
Snuffle panicked. But instead of running away or attacking, he threw his fluffy tail over his eyes and cowered.
“Don’t be scared,” said the little girl, reaching out and petting Snuffle behind the ears. “It won’t hurt at all! But how am I supposed to do this if you’ve got your tail over your face?”
“Wrrfl!”
Red sat down. “It’s okay! You’ll like being a pet weasel, I promise! All the weasel-wolves are much happier after I hypnotize them. And I’ll take good care of you and we’ll be friends forever.”
“Wrrfflll . . .”
She heaved an enormous sigh. “Moving around all the time isn’t fun. I don’t have any friends, just Grandmother. She said I could finally keep one of the weasel-wolves, though, and I thought maybe you’d like to be my friend?”
Red sniffled, sounding like she might cry.
“Awww . . .” whispered Wilbur.
The other two looked at him. Grey said, “What? It’s sad that she’s sad, but she’s selling my people as pets!”
“You can’t just eat people!” hissed Wilbur. “Particularly not if they’re sad!”
“Yes, but if I eat her, then no one will be sad. It’s win-win!”
“Nobody gets eaten.”
“Is he always like this?” whispered Grey to Harriet.
“Frequently.”
Down on the ground, Snuffle had slowly moved his tail in response to Red’s tears. He was a very compassionate little weasel-wolf. He leaned over and licked Red’s face.
She jumped, startled. “Eep!”
“Eep!” said Snuffle, and threw his tail back over his eyes.
“You startled me!”
“Wrrfl?”
“I still think we should eat her,” muttered Grey.
“I don’t want to scare you,” said Red. “Grandmother says weasel-wolves are dumb, so it doesn’t matter what we do to them, but—”
This was too much for Harriet’s sense of fairness.
Red looked up and gasped.
“Wrrr!” cried Snuffle, reaching for her, but the little girl took off at a run.
“After her!” shouted Harriet. “Mumfrey, get us down!”
Grey didn’t even bother trying to ride the quail down. He just jumped.
Mumfrey leaped out of the tree with Harriet and Wilbur clinging to him. Harriet flung herself out of the saddle and after Grey. “Wilbur, get Snuffle!” she yelled over her shoulder, and took off at a run after Grey.
Branches whipped at
her and leaves slapped her in the face, but Harriet didn’t care. She was a hamster, which isn’t a species built for speed, but so was the little girl, so presumably it evened out. She had to catch up!
She made it about ten yards into the woods and then heard an explosive sneeze.
“Gaaagghhhchooo!” Grey fell down practically at her feet. He seemed to be experiencing a full- body sneeze.
“Grey? Grey, are you okay?”
“Per—per—AACCHOOO!”
Harriet didn’t need to ask for details. The heavy, cloying smell of perfume was so thick that she could smell it too.
Still, it was just sneezing and Grey would be fine. The important thing was not to lose the trail. Harriet vaulted over the sneezing were-hamster and charged onward.
Her legs were longer than the little girl’s, if not by much. (No hamster is ever particularly long-legged.) If it hadn’t been so dark, she could have caught her. As it was, she would lose track for an instant, then see the red cloak through the trees, lit by occasional patches of moonlight.
She plunged into a thicket of ferns and lost Red completely for a minute. As she floundered, she heard the sound of running feet.
Mumfrey slid up beside her. Grey was draped across the quail’s back, still sneezing weakly. Wilbur was holding Snuffle in his lap and trying to hold on to Mumfrey. “That way!” he yelled, pointing.
Harriet charged in that direction and caught another glimpse of red.
The trees seemed to open up in front of them. Quail and hamsters burst into the clearing.
CHAPTER 17
Grandmother had clearly relocated her wheeled wagon to this clearing. It looked exactly as it had the last time Harriet had seen it, with one major exception.
Inside the wheeled cage was a sleeping weasel-wolf. His paws were crossed and his head was down. Harriet could hear faint snoring sounds coming from his direction.
“Shaggy Paw!” said Grey.
“Wrrfl!” said Snuffle.
“Gah!” Red stamped her foot.
“What did I say about that?” said Harriet, advancing toward the little girl. “You’ve got to lay off the foot-stamping. Nobody takes you seriously!”
“I am taking her seriously,” said Wilbur.
“Yes, but—”
Red pushed her hood back and stared at Harriet.
Harriet had her hand over her eyes and was feeling her way forward blindly when she heard a loud slam.
“You can probably look now,” said Wilbur. “She ran inside the wagon.”
Harriet lowered her hand, feeling a bit silly. “Fighting people who can hypnotize you is always hard. If I’d known she could do that, I’d have brought a mirror or something.”
“A mirror?”
“Yeah, that’s how you fight basilisks and gorgons and things that turn you to stone by staring at you. It’s just hard because you have to swing your sword in reverse and it’s easy to get mixed up.”
“She didn’t seem much like a gorgon,” said Wilbur doubtfully. “Don’t those usually have snakes for fur?”
“Oh, you know how it is, Wilbur. Somebody’s great-aunt’s a gorgon and they seem totally normal except that if they get into a bad mood, they accidentally petrify people. Sometimes this stuff skips generations.”
“Like how your parents are completely normal,” agreed Wilbur.
“Yes, exactly like—hey!”
“Wrrfl!” On the far side of the clearing, Snuffle was dancing around the cage, making worried noises. “Wrrll??”
“He won’t wake up,” translated Grey. “There’s something wrong—and what’s he wearing?”
“Wearing?”
Harriet stepped in closer and lifted Shaggy Paw’s head. Under his thick fur, she could see the outline of a collar.
“You don’t put collars on us!” said Grey, sounding really angry. “We aren’t pets!”
“Wrrrrll!” Snuffle let out a noise of distress.
“Even if he does wake up,” said Wilbur, “how are we going to get him out of this cage?”
They looked dubiously at the cage. There were chains wrapped around the door and a padlock as thick around as Wilbur’s thumb.
“I can’t chew through chains,” said Harriet.
Grey grabbed the bars and pulled. Muscles strained under his fur.
The bars remained unbent. Even when Harriet tried to help, the cage was too strong.
“Or we could just find the key, maybe?” said Wilbur as the two hamsters collapsed, gasping.
“It would have been much cooler if we could bend the bars,” muttered Harriet.
“That would have been awesome,” muttered Grey.
Wilbur put his head in his hands. Being Harriet’s sidekick was hard enough. If he had known that he’d have to wrangle two warrior hamsters, both determined to find the most aggressive route through the world, he’d have eaten a much bigger breakfast.
“While I’m as worried about Shaggy Paw as anyone,” said Wilbur, “can I point out that he’s not going anywhere, and there’s a hypnotist little girl and her were-weasel grandmother in that wagon right this minute?”
“Wrrfl,” grumbled Snuffle.
“You’re right,” said Grey. “But how are we going to get into the wagon?”
“Somehow I don’t think they’ll respond to a polite knock this time,” said Harriet.
“Hey, I took a safety class!”
While Snuffle stayed with Shaggy Paw, the hamsters approached the wagon cautiously. It was such a normal-looking house, except for the wheels. You expected the inhabitants to be baking cookies, not masterminding a weasel-wolf smuggling ring.
“I smell something weird,” said Grey. “It smells almost like me.”
“What?”
“Not like me, personally, but like a were-hamster. Except it isn’t right for a were-hamster either.”
“Oh,” said Harriet. “That’s the grandmother, I bet. You know how you look like a hamster that’s sort of weasely?”
“Yes . . . ?”
“She looked like a weasel that was sort of hamstery. So I figure she must be like you, only from the opposite direction. Like I’ll be if you bite me.”
“Are you sure you want that?”
“Uh, yeah!” Harriet wrinkled her nose. “I’ll be way better at it! I won’t do anything silly like wandering around in a stupid nightgown trying to pretend I’m not a weasel-wolf.”
“I can hear you, you know!” shouted Grandmother from inside the wagon. “And my nightgown is not stupid!”
Harriet made a fist and knocked on the door.
“Go away!” shouted Red.
“Let me in!” said Harriet.
“I won’t!” shouted Red.
“She won’t!” shouted Red’s grandmother.
“Let me in! Or I’ll . . . err . . . I’ll huff and I’ll puff and I’ll—”
“I think that’s supposed to be my line,” said Grey.
“Have you ever blown a house down?”
“Honestly, it’s never come up.”
Harriet pounded on the door again.
“I’m not letting you in!” shouted Red.
“Well, I’m not going away!”
“Then we’re at an impasse!” shouted Grandmother.
“Can you hack through the door with your sword?” asked Grey.
“Why would I break a perfectly good sword doing that?”
They took a step back from the wagon and glared at it.
And then, quite suddenly, Harriet had an idea.
CHAPTER 18
Maybe we can blow her house down! You guys know how a swing set works?” said Harriet.
“Yes,” said Wilbur.
“No,” said Grey.
“Qwerk,” said Mumfrey, which was Quail for “Nobody makes swing
sets for quail, and that makes me sad.”
“Okay. You push in one direction, right? And then you pump your legs in the other direction. And the swing goes further each time.”
“Wagons aren’t swings,” said Wilbur doubtfully.
“No, but the laws of physics still apply!” said Harriet, and putting her back against the side of the wagon, she began to push.
The wagon rocked to one side. As soon as it began to rock back, Harriet stopped pushing, then threw her weight against it as it went in the original direction.
Grey and Wilbur looked at each other doubtfully, shrugged, and put their backs against the wagon.
“Hey!” shouted Grandmother from inside. “What are you doing?!”
The three hamsters kept rocking the cage back and forth between them. Mumfrey bounced on his claws, trying to use his strong wings to help.
The wagon wheels began to creak violently.
“There we go!” said Harriet. “It’s almost one-fourth of the way over!”
“Oh, here we go with the fractions . . .” muttered Wilbur.
“Stop!” yelled Grandmother. “Stop it!”
“Come out!” shouted Harriet.
“You’re a terrible person!” screamed Grandmother.
“But—an—excellent—princess—!” panted Harriet, flinging herself against the wagon. She could hear things sliding around inside the wagon and the crash of breaking crockery.
Snuffle abandoned the cage and came to help as best he could, although he kept trying to bite the wagon.
“One-third!” gasped Harriet. “Maybe two-fifths!”
The door flew open. Red flung herself out, followed by the hairy figure of Grandmother.
“Hraaaawwrrrroooof!” snarled Grey, abandoning the wagon. “You! You’re the monster who’s been selling my packmates!”
Little Red Rodent Hood Page 5
