Copyright © 2005 Disney Enterprises, Inc.
All rights reserved. Published by Disney Press, an imprint of Disney Book Group. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the publisher. For information address Disney Press, 114 Fifth Avenue, New York, New York 10011-5690.
ISBN: 978-1-4231-5774-8
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Table of Contents
All About Fairies
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IF YOU HEAD toward the second star on your right and fly straight on till morning, you’ll come to Never Land, a magical island where mermaids play and children never grow up.
When you arrive, you might hear something like the tinkling of little bells. Follow that sound and you’ll find Pixie Hollow, the secret heart of Never Land.
A great old maple tree grows in Pixie Hollow, and in it live hundreds of fairies and sparrow men. Some of them can do water magic, others can fly like the wind, and still others can speak to animals. You see, Pixie Hollow is the Never fairies’ kingdom, and each fairy who lives there has a special, extraordinary talent.
Not far from the Home Tree, nestled in the branches of a hawthorn, is Mother Dove, the most magical creature of all. She sits on her egg, watching over the fairies, who in turn watch over her. For as long as Mother Dove’s egg stays well and whole, no one in Never Land will ever grow old.
Once, Mother Dove’s egg was broken. But we are not telling the story of the egg here. Now it is time for Beck’s tale.…
A SQUIRREL PERCHED on a log paused while chewing on some seeds. He watched as two tiny Never fairies zipped past him, side by side.
“Oh, Beck,” one of the fairies said to the other as they flew. “Thank you so much for coming with me.” She looked terribly worried. “We just don’t know what to do. A baby raccoon turned up in the gardens this morning, and he ate all the strawberries out of Thistle’s strawberry patch. And then he started digging up Rosetta’s mint! We chased him off, but he didn’t go far. Now he’s sitting on a tree stump by Havendish Stream. He won’t budge. And none of the other animal-talent fairies can understand a word he’s saying!”
Beck smiled. “Don’t worry, Latia,” she said. They were nearing Havendish Stream. “We’ll figure it out.”
Latia breathed a sigh of relief. “Well, if any fairy in Never Land can figure it out, it’s you, Beck!”
Every fairy in Never Land agreed: Beck was one of the finest animal-talent fairies in Pixie Hollow. She loved being around animals, from the tiniest insects to the largest mammals. Oh, sure, snakes could be a little grumpy. Skunks were hard to read. And hawks, of course, were just plain dangerous. But all in all, she loved feeling a part of the animal world. Sometimes Beck secretly wished that she were an animal!
Like all the animal-talent fairies, Beck had a gift for talking to animals. Birdcalls, mouse squeaks, squirrel and chipmunk chatter—they were just noises to the other fairies. But to animal-talent fairies, those different noises held meaning. To them, animal sounds were as clear and easy to understand as words and sentences.
Beck was especially good at talking to baby animals, perhaps because she was so playful and lighthearted. She loved playing hide-and-seek with the young squirrels and having somersault contests with the baby hedgehogs. Even when an animal was too young to speak, Beck could understand it. Queen Clarion said Beck had empathy and could sense animals’ emotions. When those emotions were strong enough, Beck felt them, too.
So when a baby raccoon parked himself on a stump and refused to move, everyone thought of Beck right away. The animal fairies sent Latia to fetch Beck because she was a forest-talent fairy and knew the quickest ways to get through Pixie Hollow.
An easy five-minute flight later, the two fairies came to Havendish Stream. A dozen animal-talent fairies were hovering around a tiny raccoon, who sat on a tree stump clutching a stalk of Rosetta’s mint.
“Beck’s here!” Latia called, and all the fairies turned.
“Oh, thank goodness!” cried Fawn, one of Beck’s best friends. She drew Beck closer to the tree stump. “Beck, you’ve just got to help. This poor little fella won’t budge. We don’t even know where he came from.” With a push from Fawn, Beck found herself right in front of the baby raccoon. He raised his head and whimpered.
“Hello there,” Beck said in Raccoon. “I’m Beck. What’s your name?”
The little raccoon let out another whimper. Then he buried his face in his paws and rubbed his nose in the stalk of mint he had picked from Rosetta’s garden.
“Oh, don’t cry!” Beck said. She flew up and stroked the top of the raccoon’s furry head. The raccoon rocked back and forth—and Beck’s lip started trembling. The baby raccoon was so sad and so scared that Beck was starting to feel sad, too. She straightened her back, cleared her throat, and forced herself to cheer up. If she didn’t watch out, soon she’d be crying as hard as the little raccoon, and then where would the fairies be?
“Hey, now,” said Beck, smiling. “Don’t cry, my friend. Why would you cry when you could be playing a game with me?”
Raising his head, the little raccoon looked at Beck for the first time. She smiled encouragingly and patted his nose. “That’s right,” she said. “I know the perfect game for us to play. It’s called Find the Fairy!”
With that, Beck took off at top speed. She looped around behind the raccoon and tapped him on the shoulder. “Here I am!” she cried. The raccoon squeaked in surprise and turned around, but Beck was already gone.
The little raccoon peered up at the sky, trying to find her. Meanwhile, Beck quietly landed by the stump and tiptoed around to the front, where the raccoon’s paw rested on the edge. She reached up, tweaked his toe, and cried, “No, here I am!” then flew up to face him again.
The little raccoon let out a chittering noise: raccoon laughter. All the fairies smiled at each other. Beck had done it again!
Beck grinned. She was so glad that the little fellow was feeling better. “That’s a good game, isn’t it?” she said. “Now let’s start again. My name is Beck. What’s wrong?”
There was a pause, and the fairies held their breath. Then the raccoon replied. To the fairies who didn’t speak Raccoon, what he said sounded like “Grak!”
But Beck understood him.
“Lost!” was what the raccoon said. Beck realized that he was so young, he still spoke Raccoon baby talk. He stared at Beck with wide eyes. “Lost!” he said again.
“Oh, dear. Well, where do you live?” Beck asked.
“Live…,” the raccoon started.
“Yes?” Beck asked encouragingly.
“Live…,” he said again. He looked down at the mint stalk he still held. He raised his paw and shook the mint at Beck. “Live here!” he said. “Live…in mint.”
“Huh,” said Beck, switching out of Raccoon. She looked at the fairies who were gathered around. Everyone looked as confused as she felt.
“What did he say?” asked Latia.
“He said…that he lives…in mint,” Beck told her. “But that doesn’t make any sense!”
“In mint?” replied Latia thoughtfully.
“Remember when Rosetta planted her mint patch a few years ago?” Latia asked Beck. They were flying through the woods, with the raccoon trailing after them. “Well, she asked me to find her some wild mint seeds from the forest, because she likes their flavor. So I got her
some seeds from a big old wild mint patch at the base of a hollow tree right on the edge of Pixie Hollow. I just bet his family lives in that tree!”
“You must be right,” agreed Beck. “That would explain why he was so interested in Rosetta’s mint patch to begin with. It must have reminded him of—”
“Home!” cried the little raccoon, and took off running. Beck and Latia looked up, and sure enough, there was the big hollow tree. And playing in the mint leaves at the bottom of the tree was another baby raccoon. She was about the same age as Beck’s little friend—who was in such a hurry to get to the tree that he barreled into her. The two young raccoons tumbled in a heap at the foot of the hollow tree, squeaking happily.
It was obvious that the little raccoon was home.
Soon, it had all been sorted out. Beck explained everything to the baby raccoon’s mother, who thanked her again and again. She even offered Beck an old, slimy leaf of cabbage (rotten cabbage is a delicacy to raccoons).
“Thank you so much, but it’s really not necessary,” Beck said. She waved good-bye to the baby raccoon, and then she and Latia flew off in the direction of the Home Tree.
As they were flying over a thicket, Beck spotted Grandmother Mole coming out of an underground tunnel. “Oh, Latia, why don’t you go on without me?” Beck suggested. “I want to pay a visit.”
Grandmother Mole was the oldest female mole in Never Land, and a very dear friend. She and old Grandfather Mole had no children or grandchildren of their own. But they were known throughout Pixie Hollow as Grandmother and Grandfather Mole.
“Hello, Grandmother,” Beck said in Mole. She landed at the animal’s side.
“Beck? Is that you?” asked Grandmother Mole in a series of grunts and nose whistles.
“Yes, it’s me,” Beck replied. “I was just flying by and I saw you. How’s everything underground?”
“Oh, just fine,” Grandmother Mole replied. She told Beck all about the moles’ latest tunneling projects. “But there’s much more exciting news than that,” she added. “One of our own just had babies—four beautiful and perfect baby moles. You should come by and see them sometime. You can teach them to play peekaboo.”
Beck smiled. “That sounds wonder—”
Just then, old Grandfather Mole climbed out of the tunnel opening—and bumped right into Beck. “Oops!” he said with an embarrassed chuckle. He squinted in Beck’s direction. “Pardon me, sir! Wasn’t watching where I was going, I guess!” He chuckled again.
Then Grandfather Mole waddled off.
Grandmother Mole giggled at his blunder—calling Beck “sir.” Beck couldn’t help giggling, too. All the moles were nearsighted. But Grandfather Mole, well, he was practically blind.
After saying farewell to Grandmother Mole, Beck flew east, to the Home Tree. She smiled as she flew. She was filled with a sense of well-being. Maybe it was from helping the baby raccoon get back home. Maybe it was the happy news of the baby moles’ birth. Whatever it was, it made Beck feel, at that moment, that all was well with the world.
Then, just as Beck flew over the river, she heard it. A cry. A cry for her? Was someone calling her name? As she slowed, it got louder.
“Beck! Be-e-e-e-e-eck! Wait! Wait up!” the voice called.
Beck stopped and hovered in midair. Where was the call coming from? She looked to the left. She looked to the right.
She turned to look behind her—and saw a young hummingbird headed straight for her, at full speed. He was screaming at the top of his lungs. “Beck! Help! He-e-e-e-elp!”
THE YOUNG HUMMINGBIRD tried to put on the brakes. But it was too late. He was going too fast. Beck dodged to her right. Unfortunately, the hummingbird had the same thought. He dodged to his left—and smashed right into her.
The crash knocked Beck backward.
“Twitter!” Beck exclaimed in Bird. She shook her head, trying to clear it. “What in the world is going on?”
Twitter was no stranger to Beck. He was a high-strung little hummingbird. He was so high-strung that sometimes his mouth had a hard time keeping up with his brain.
“I’m s-s-sorry about that, B-B-Beck!” Twitter chirped in stuttering cheeps and peeps. He nervously darted to and fro in the air. His wings flapped so quickly, they seemed a blur to Beck’s eyes. Still dazed from the midair crash, Beck was getting dizzy trying to keep her eye on Twitter. He stayed in the same place for only seconds at a time.
“I s-s-saw you f-f-flying by,” Twitter said. “And it’s j-j-just that you’ve g-g-got to help us—the hummingbirds. It’s an e-e-emergency!”
Now over the shock of bumping into Twitter, Beck smiled. How many times had she heard that word—“emergency”—from Twitter before? Twitter was a sweet, good, and earnest little bird, and he was better at playing tag than any other animal in Pixie Hollow. Beck liked him very much. But sometimes Twitter got overexcited for no reason.
He came looking for Beck whenever he needed help or advice. Usually, he was in a panic, as he was now. Once Beck found out the facts, she could explain why there was nothing for Twitter to worry about. Beck suspected that this was another one of those times.
She turned and headed east again, beckoning for Twitter to follow. “Come on, Twitter,” she chirped. “I’m headed back to the Home Tree. Come with me. Along the way, you can tell me what’s wrong.”
Twitter hurried after Beck. “B-b-but you don’t understand!” he called to her. “You have to c-c-come with me, back to the nest. Quick!”
Beck flew on. It was always a little hard for her to deal with Twitter when he was in a state. His nervousness could be contagious. She knew that everything was fine and that Twitter was upset about nothing. But his panic was so strong that it made her heart beat faster in sympathy.
It’s nothing, she reminded herself. He’s all upset about nothing. It’s never as bad as he thinks it is.
She knew this from having dealt with Twitter’s panicky episodes so many times before. One of the first times had been when Twitter was just a chick. He had seen apple blossom petals falling to the ground and had rushed to Beck in a panic.
“B-B-Beck! Come quick!” he had said. “It’s snowing! It’s not supposed to snow in Never Land!” It had taken Beck a while to reassure Twitter that the petals were just petals.
There had also been the time when Twitter had noticed that all the beautiful round yellow flowers he liked so much had disappeared. “Someone changed them into strange white puffy things,” he said. “And they fall apart.”
Beck had explained to Twitter that they were dandelions, and that was how they spread their seeds. While he didn’t like it—not one bit—he had finally calmed down.
So now Beck felt sure that Twitter’s “problem” wasn’t as big as he thought it was. “Okay, Twitter,” she said. “What is it? I’m listening.”
Twitter zigged this way and zagged that way in the air. “I’m telling you,” he said, “it’s an emergency! It’s—” Twitter looked nervously over one wing, then the other. He flew right up to Beck’s left ear and whispered, “It’s the chipmunks.”
“The chipmunks?” Beck said at a normal volume. “What about the chipmunks?”
“Shhh!” Twitter cringed and went on whispering. “Not so loud! They might be listening. They’re everywhere.” Twitter shot glances over both wings again. Then he continued. “And they’re so grabby and strange. I think they have it in for all us birds. They come right up into the trees and shrubs. They gather all the seeds and acorns and berries in sight. And then, get this: they don’t eat the stuff. They carry it away with them to their underground nests. You know what I think? I think they’re hoarding all that food. They’re taking it and storing it somewhere—just so the birds can’t have it.” Twitter backed away from Beck’s ear. He stopped whispering. “Why would they do that, Beck? Why?”
Beck listened carefully to everything Twitter said. She managed to keep a straight face the whole time. But when Twitter was done, she couldn’t help it. She smiled. Then
she giggled.
Twitter was confused. “What’s so funny?” he asked Beck. “This is serious! This is an emergency!”
Beck fought back another giggle. “I’m sorry, Twitter,” she said kindly. “I know you’re upset. But there’s no reason to be. The chipmunks mean no harm,” she told him.
Twitter looked at her doubtfully.
“It’s true,” Beck went on. “Some animals, like birds, eat food as they find it. But other animals, like chipmunks, store some of the food they find. They save it until they need it. Then they eat it.”
Twitter looked at Beck in surprise. “They do?” he asked.
Beck nodded. “Mm-hmm. It’s nothing personal,” she pointed out. “They don’t have it in for the birds. They’re just doing what they’ve always done. Besides, there’s plenty of food to go around.” Beck looked into Twitter’s eyes. “Okay?” she asked.
Twitter thought it over for a second. “Okay!” he replied cheerfully. And just like that, Twitter was back to being a carefree little hummingbird. “Thanks, Beck!” he exclaimed as he zipped out of sight.
“You’re welcome!” Beck called after him. She shook her head and smiled.
Just as quickly as he had come, Twitter was gone.
THAT AFTERNOON, Beck was sitting alone at the animal-talent table in the Home Tree tearoom. She was the first animal-talent fairy to get there—five minutes before tea- time. So as she waited for the others, Beck sipped peppermint tea.
She looked around the room. She waved to her friend Tink, sitting across the room at the pots-and-pans-talent table.
She saw pretty Rosetta fly into the room and join the fairies at the garden-talent table. She watched Dulcie, a baking-talent fairy, serve cookies to the hungry water-talent fairies.
The tearoom was one of the fanciest rooms in the Home Tree. The walls were hung with Never pale-grass wallpaper. The silver chandelier overhead sparkled and shone. The floral carpet was plush and colorful. And during the day, light flooded into the room through the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Beck and the Great Berry Battle Page 1
