He was talking to a deer mouse by the name of Poppy.
Though most of her fur was soft orange-brown, Poppy had pure white fur on her round, gracefully plump belly. Her whiskers, which stuck straight out from her delicate pink nose, were quite full. Her toes were small and her tail was long. As for her ears, they were relatively large and dark, and from the right one hung an earring, nothing more than a purple plastic bead dangling from a tiny chain.
“Ereth,” Poppy explained, “if something happened to a child of yours, wouldn’t you want to hear about it?”
“Look here, slug-brain,” the porcupine said with something close to anger, “I thought you liked living in my neighborhood. Thought you were my friend. But if you want to trundle off, forget me, make new friends, start a new life, go ahead. I’ve got plenty of things to do.”
“Like what?” Poppy asked.
“Eating,” the porcupine growled. “And sleeping.” With a rattle of quills Ereth moved off toward the far end of his log.
“Ereth,” Poppy pleaded as she followed after him, “let me try to explain one more time. Ragweed was a golden mouse. He was like no one I’d ever met before. And when he came here, I fell in love with him.”
“Love!” sneered Ereth. “You can put love in a wasp’s nest and chew on it.”
“But I did love him,” Poppy insisted. “And we . . . we were going to get married.”
“Marriage!” Ereth hooted. “Head for the toilet bowl and bring two plungers!”
“But then,” Poppy continued patiently, “that owl, Mr. Ocax, killed him and—”
“Poppy, stop! I’ve heard this slop a hundred times!”
“But all I want to do,” an exasperated Poppy continued, “is tell Ragweed’s parents what happened to him. Don’t you think they should know? Besides, I want to give them this.” She touched the earring. “So they’ll have something to remember him by.”
“Listen, swamp-mouth,” Ereth said, “take my word. They don’t care what happened to him. No more than I do. Wise up. You’d have to be mushroom mucus not to know that!”
“The thing is, Ereth,” Poppy persisted, “the trip would be so much nicer if you came along. It’ll be an adventure. We’ll see the world.”
“Oh, frozen frog pips!” Ereth cried. “I don’t want to see the world. I hate going places. I hate doing things. And I like being alone. Most of all, I’m sick and tired of hearing about Ragweed! So beat it!” The porcupine continued on toward the far end of his log.
A frustrated Poppy let out a sigh, tenderly fingered Ragweed’s earring, then went to the open end of the log and gazed out at Dimwood Forest.
This forest of towering trees was her home. One moment it was dark, the next moment it was light. Usually serene, the forest often exploded with noisy life. Though Poppy loved the forest dearly, and would miss it, she felt a great need to make the journey.
Poppy had to acknowledge that there was no particular reason for Ereth to go. He had never met Ragweed. Besides, Poppy hardly knew where his home was. Ragweed had never offered much detail about it. “The Woodlands,” he called his home area. He said it was a few miles west of Dimwood Forest.
His family nest, he had once told her, was on the banks of a brook. He referred to it as little more than “The Brook.” “It’s a decent spot, girl,” Ragweed had told her. “But, know what I’m saying, like, dullsville. Totally. Nothing ever happens there.”
“Tell me about your parents,” Poppy had said to him.
“They’re named Clover and Valerian,” he said. “Pretty cool . . . for parents. But, hey, like, I needed to see the world. And I did, too.”
“Did they give you permission to go?” Poppy asked, impressed with Ragweed’s story. At the time not only hadn’t she gone far from where her own family lived, she was certain her parents would never allow her to travel.
Ragweed laughed. “Naw, they weren’t too easy ’bout what I was doing. Particularly Clover, my old mouse. But girl, a mouse has to do what a mouse has to do.”
“Will you ever go back?” Poppy wanted to know.
“Oh, sure, someday. And hey, dude, I’ll take you there,” Ragweed promised. “Bet you’ll like my folks. They’ll think you’re way sweet.”
“Why?”
“’Cause you’re my main girl, girl!” Then—Poppy remembered—Ragweed had winked at her with a sense of his own saucy being.
But Ragweed had died. And Poppy wanted to tell his parents what had happened. Maybe, she mused, it was her way of saying a final good-bye to the mouse she had loved.
Still, to go all that distance alone would be quite an undertaking.
It was not that Poppy was frightened of the distance or of being alone. It was merely a question of wanting to go with someone. True, she had plenty of sisters and brothers—cousins, too, for that matter. Still, she could think of no better companion for an adventure than her best friend, Ereth. But now the porcupine had said no. Poppy sighed. There were moments she actually thought Ereth was jealous of Ragweed.
Then the notion struck Poppy that it was probably nothing more than Ereth feeling his age. How like Ereth to be so proud he wouldn’t admit to such a thing. She wished she had not pushed him so.
Never mind. Poppy made up her mind: Since she wanted to go, she’d go alone.
Oh, well, she thought, I’m sure I’ll meet someone interesting. Besides, once I get to Ragweed’s brook it should be pleasant and calm. Recalling his words about the Brook, Poppy smiled. I could use a little dullness in my life, she thought.
Poppy went back into the log to say good-bye to Ereth. He was at the far, smelly end, licking a hunk of salt as if it were a lollipop.
Trying to keep from inhaling too much, Poppy said, “Ereth, I wanted
