“Poppy, you can do what you want. But if I were you, I wouldn’t sleep where you’re standing. As I told you, it’s my toilet, and it’s too stinky even for me.”
CHAPTER 13
Early Morning
WITHIN THE LOG, but not too far from its entrance, Poppy found herself a soft place to sleep. There, curled up in a tight ball with her tail tip parked right below her nose, she felt safe enough to sleep. When she awoke after a long, sound slumber, it was dark and quiet. She got up slowly and stretched her aching muscles, then looked about for some sign of Ereth. The old porcupine was nowhere to be seen. Was he gone for good? Not likely, Poppy knew, but he might be gone for hours.
She also knew she was hungry. Cautiously she made her way to the log’s opening. It was night, and she could see neither sky nor stars. A silver sheen of moonlight made lace of the canopy of trees above even while transforming the ground into a carpet of velvet gray. She sniffed the air. Mingled with the sharp scent of pine and fir, she breathed in delicious hints of good things to eat: nuts, berries, seeds, fragrant flowers, tender roots.
There were sounds, too: the creak and groan of trees, the sudden, shrill cries of animals, the occasional fuzz-buzz of passing bugs.
Poppy could only feel astonishment. This was not Dimwood the forbidding. This was Dimwood the beautiful, a luxuriant world that teemed with life, a universe that held more than she had ever seen or dreamed of, a paradise that filled her with an almost aching desire to dance through it and see more.
Trembling with excitement, Poppy was about to take a step away from the log when she chanced to look up. On the gray, lifeless tree with a hole on its side, an acorn toss from where she was, perched a brooding owl.
The moment she saw the owl, Poppy darted back into the safety of the log. There she stayed, her heart thudding. Had the owl seen her? She did not think so. Could it, in fact, be Mr. Ocax? If it was, how could he have tracked her? But perhaps it was another owl. She had to know.
In any case, her elation was gone. The forest was not to be for her. She sighed at the fright she felt.
Poppy tried to calm herself. First she pondered over her discovery that Mr. Ocax had lied about porcupines. At least she did not have to be frightened about them. In spite of herself, she giggled when she thought about Ereth. Such a likable unlikable creature.
Then she thought of what else Ereth had told her, that Mr. Ocax was actually afraid of porcupines. The notion that the owl was afraid of anything gave Poppy considerable pleasure. Perhaps he was afraid of other things as well.
So Poppy thought again about her suspicion that there was something at New House that alarmed the owl. Oh, if only there was. If only she could find it.
Feeling more hopeful, Poppy returned to the log’s threshold to wait for Ereth. She wanted to take another look at the owl but was afraid to. Instead she sat, content for the moment to gaze out at the beautiful forest.
The owl Poppy had seen was indeed Mr. Ocax. He was perched upon the entrance to his home, flexing his sharp talons and staring gloomily into the forest. Now and again he swiveled his head and blinked, then clacked his beak. Hungry, he wished that something—anything—would reveal itself by moving.
Once, just out of the corner of his eye, he thought something moved at the entrance to the old log that lay not far from his snag. But it was gone so fast he could not be sure.
Was it the porcupine? He hoped not. He hated Ereth. Just the thought of him made Mr. Ocax drop down inside his snag. Better to sit in the darkness and listen than deal with that creature. If something came by, he would hear it.
“When are you leaving for New House?” Ereth asked Poppy. The old porcupine had made his way back to the hollow tree before sunup. Bits of bark were stuck about his lips, chin, and whiskers.
“Soon,” Poppy replied evasively.
“Good,” Ereth said. “You’re a sweet kid, but I like my privacy.”
“Ereth,” Poppy began after a moment, “I know you want me to go, and I want to go, too, but when I looked out before, I think I saw an owl.”
“On that snag just beyond my door?” asked Ereth.
“The what?”
“The old tree with a broken top.”
Poppy nodded. “There was an owl sitting there,” she said. “I was told Mr. Ocax lives in Dimwood. Could . . . could that be him?”
Ereth snorted. “Follow me.” Somewhat anxiously Poppy trailed the porcupine out of the log. “That the snag you’re talking about?” Ereth said, pointing.
“Yes.”
“Well, then, that’s where Ocax lives.”
Poppy jumped back. “There?”
“Absolutely.”
“Don’t you mind?” Poppy whispered, edging closer to Ereth.
“Naw. He’s a jerk. Anyway, he doesn’t get near me.”
“But he rules this whole territory.”
“Him? Rule? Maggot milk.”
“But . . . but it’s true.”
“Poppy,” Ereth snorted, “there are lots of creatures who live around here. Some are mean, like Ocax. Some are sweet, like me. Nobody rules.”
“But he says he does.”
“Oh, bee’s burp. Just because you’re scared of someone doesn’t mean you have to believe him.” Ereth turned toward the snag. “Ocax!” he bellowed. “Ocax!”
“No,” Poppy cried, “don’t!”
It was too late. Mr. Ocax popped up in his snag hole. In a panic, Poppy scrambled to hide behind Ereth’s tail.
“What do you want?” Mr. Ocax demanded.
“I’ve got a mouse here by the name of Poppy who says you’ve been calling yourself ruler of Dimwood. That true?”
Instead of answering, Mr. Ocax shifted his head, trying to catch a glimpse of Poppy. When he saw
