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 to say good-bye.”
The porcupine offered up an indifferent grunt.
“And Ereth . . . I should apologize.”
“What for?”
“Asking you to come.”
Ereth paused in his licking and squinted angrily down at Poppy. “Why?”
“I should have remembered you’re too old for such a trip.”
The salt dropped from Ereth’s paws with a clatter. “Too what?” he gasped.
“Well, you know,” Poppy said with care. “Elderly.”
“Me? Old? Elderly?” the porcupine cried, quills bristling. “You twisted bee burp! I can do whatever I want. Where I want. When I want. Or are you hankering to turn yourself into a busted bee bottom?”
“But, Ereth . . .”
“Look here, you pickle-tailed fur booger,” he roared on, “I can keep up with you any day of the week. Night too, for that matter, you slippery spot of squirrel splat!”
“You mean you’ll come with me?” Poppy cried, trying to keep from grinning.
“Blow your nose and fill a bucket!” Ereth screeched. “Can’t you understand anything? Never mind me going with you. You’re going with me!”
With that, Ereth burst past Poppy, moving so fast, so furiously, his quills combed her belly fur into twenty-seven neat rows.
Poppy, laughing, ran after him.
CHAPTER 3
Night Thoughts
ERETH MOVED ALONG so fast Poppy had to race after him. Her cries of, “Hey, slow down! Wait for me!” were of no avail. Only when they reached the deepest part of Dimwood Forest did Ereth finally pause.
When Poppy caught up to him, the porcupine was calmly nibbling on some tender bits of bark which he had peeled from a tree.
It was a dusky place. The high trees kept the light out but not the heat. The air felt as thick as syrup and bore a smell of skunkweed and rotting mushrooms.
“What is this spot?” a panting Poppy asked, throwing herself down on the ground to rest. Though she had always known Dimwood Forest was big, she was beginning to fathom just how small a part of it she’d experienced.
“The forest,” Ereth replied smugly.
“Amazing,” Poppy said, staring around.
“Now, look here,” Ereth said, “where was it that you said we were going?”
Poppy, still breathing hard from her exertion, said, “It’s called The Brook.”
“Oh, fox flip,” the porcupine growled. “There must be a million brooks in this forest! Are you saying that’s the only name you have?”
“Ereth,” Poppy said, “all Ragweed told me was it was west of the forest.
“Sticky roach toes,” Ereth muttered. “According to that, it could be anywhere.”
“No, it can’t,” Poppy pointed out. “It’s not east. Or north. Or even south. It’s west.” She looked toward the sky. Though the sun was hidden behind heavy foliage, it was still possible to find its place in the sky. “Since it’s afternoon,” she said, “west must be that way.”
“Fine,” Ereth conceded. “But how are we supposed to know which brook it is?”
“Ereth,” Poppy said, “we don’t need to have all the answers, do we? Can’t we just keep moving? We’ve got all the time we need.”
“The faster we get there, the faster we get back,” Ereth returned.
Poppy got up and started off, this time taking the lead. Ereth, muttering “Ragweed” under his breath, followed.
The two friends traveled side by side. Moving in a steady, westerly direction, speaking little, they did not stop until darkness came. They had not come upon one brook.
“I think we’d better find a place for the night,” Poppy suggested. She was quite worn out.
“When I travel, I stay in trees,” Ereth informed her.
“That’s fine with me,” Poppy assured him. “Pick out one you’d like.”
“Can’t be any tree, you know. Has to be comfortable.”
“Fine.”
“Right height.”
“Good.”
“And smell right.”
“Just choose one, Ereth!” Poppy cried.
Constantly grumbling, Ereth lumbered about the forest floor, examining every tree he passed. Poppy followed, pausing now and again to nibble seeds when she found them. It made little difference to her where she slept. As long as she was with Ereth, she was safe. Nobody wanted to mess with him or his quills.
The porcupine finally settled on a fat tamarack pine. Its branches were thick. Its smell was pungent.
Moving awkwardly from branch to branch, Ereth climbed. Poppy
