Poppy opened her eyes. Though her vision was bleary, she was able to gaze up at the sky through the petals of a daisy. She was quite certain it was the most beautiful flower she had ever seen.
Anxious to know where she’d landed, she sat up and looked about. Only then did she realize she’d come ashore near the Bridge. And on the far side of the creek. Feeling pleased with herself, she considered the nearby trees with pleasure.
The next second, Poppy’s pleasure vanished. She’d come ashore at the one spot in the whole world she least wanted to be, right next to Mr. Ocax’s charred oak.
CHAPTER 10
Dimwood Forest
POPPY SEARCHED DESPERATELY for a place to hide. Glitter Creek ran behind. Before her stood Dimwood Forest. There was little choice. She plunged among the shadowy tree trunks and began running wildly, her only desire to put as much distance between herself and Mr. Ocax’s tree as possible.
It did not take long before an exhausted Poppy had to stop. Her sides ached. She was hot and cold all at once. Her heart felt as though it would break out through her ribs. Gasping for breath, she crept beneath a leaf, then peered about to see where she had come.
It was as if the sun had been stolen. Only thin ribbons of light seeped down through the green and milky air, air syrupy with the scent of pine, huckleberry, and juniper. From the rolling, emerald-carpeted earth, fingers of lacy ferns curled up, above which the massive fir and pine trees stood, pillar-like, to support an invisible sky. Hovering over everything was a silence as deep as the trees were tall.
Poppy gazed at it in awe. She was not sure what she’d thought Dimwood Forest would be like. She knew only that she’d never imagined it so vast, so dense, so dark. The sight made her feel immensely isolated and small. Feeling small made her a part of all she saw. Being part of it made her feel immense. It was so terribly confusing.
The silence was broken by the sound of sharp tapping. Poppy ducked. But nothing happened. From another direction came a yelp. A screech. Poppy shivered. Closer still was the smothered scurry of something slithery and unseen. A tree groaned. A branch snapped. There was the passing scamper of little feet. Poppy’s heart raced just as fast.
She could only guess what animals were making such sounds. Automatically she thought of porcupines, recalling vividly the frightening picture her father had shown the family. Had not Mr. Ocax given a special warning about a particularly bloodthirsty porcupine he’d seen recently in the forest? He had. Poppy grew even more tense. She had to find a place to regain her composure.
Anxiously she gazed about for a safe place to rest. What she found was a massive boulder, its top half matted with dark moss, its lower part embedded in earth. Beneath it was a hollow.
Poppy bounded over to the rock. Close up, the hollow proved to be more like a cave, utterly dark at the deep end. What was there? She edged forward, sniffing the air. She froze. A distinct animal smell alarmed all her senses. Unable to identify what it might be, she listened intently, ears flicking this way and that. Seeing and hearing nothing, she crept slowly forward until she was completely inside the cave. Was anything there? Only when she was quite certain nothing was did she begin to clean herself.
Mr. Ocax, from a hiding place on the far side of Dimwood Forest, watched the barn at New House intently. His nervous talons clenched and unclenched the branch upon which he was perched. At first he tried to deny the fear he felt inside him. But it was growing too fast. It could not be denied. That he, Ocax, the great horned owl, should feel fear made him livid. It was for others to be fearful, not him. “It’s unfair,” he hissed. “Unnatural!”
Suddenly, hearing his own outburst, he looked about in alarm, anxious that some other creature might see and hear him. No matter what, his fearfulness must never be known! He spread his wings and glided silently away from New House.
In a temper he recalled the mouse he had seen in Glitter Creek. Perhaps the body had been tossed up on the bank. He was upset enough to eat anything, even if it was already dead.
When he reached the creek, he began to fly upstream, moving low over the water.
Poppy paused in her fur cleaning now and again to gaze out at the forest. It should not have been called Dimwood, she told herself, but Darkwood. She kept asking herself how she had ever thought she’d find her way through such a fearsome place. The likelihood of her survival was growing slimmer moment by moment. And though at the moment she felt relatively safe, she worried that she had not gotten far enough away from Mr. Ocax’s watching tree. But which way should she go? She had no idea where she was. She was lost and knew it.
She recalled the vow she’d made on Bannock Hill never to leave home again. She considered going back. She wanted to. But then she thought about what would happen if she did return with nothing to report to Lungwort about Mr. Ocax. Life would be miserable.
Poppy sighed. It was so hard to be courageous. So hard to be a coward. Going forward or back seemed equally awful. So much easier to
