He took some deep breaths and shut his eyes. He had hardly done so when he felt a sharp smack on his nose.
CHAPTER 9
Ereth Speaks
“HELLO, PORKY! You looking for someone?” yelped a high-pitched voice.
Ereth opened his eyes. A young female fox, head cocked to one side, was looking at him quizzically with bright, orange eyes. Her fur was fuzzy red, her muzzle white, her ears too large for her young head. Her front paws seemed oversized too, while the dark fur that covered them made it appear as if she were wearing baggy knee socks.
Ereth blinked. “Sparrow spittle,” he sputtered. “What did you call me?”
“Porky,” the fox said cheerfully. “Isn’t that what you are, a porcupine?”
“My name is Erethizon Dorsatum,” Ereth returned with hot dignity.
“Are you a male or female?”
“Male, needle nose!”
“My name isn’t needle nose, it’s Nimble,” returned the fox. “And I’m a female.”
“Do you live here?”
“Oh, sure,” Nimble returned. “There’s me and my brothers, Tumble and Flip. Then there’s our mother. Her name is Leaper.”
“Do you have a father?”
“Silly. Of course we do. His name is Bounder.”
“I suppose that’s him,” Ereth muttered even as it was perfectly clear that he had found the fox’s den and her three kits.
“When we heard you coming,” Nimble said, “we thought you were Mom.”
“Why?”
“She’s been away an awfully long time.”
“Oh, right,” Ereth said nervously.
“Bet you’ll never guess what happened today?” Nimble said.
“What?”
“Some humans came by. They were walking around the field and the base of the bluff. Doing stuff. We don’t know what.”
“The trappers,” Ereth thought with dread. “What did you do?” he asked.
“Nothing. Hid like Mom told us to do. Don’t worry. They never saw us.”
Ereth took a deep breath and said, “Guess what?”
“What?”
“Here’s the news . . .” But Ereth could not go on. Tongue-tied, he could only mutter, “I’m not your mother.”
“Oh, I know that,” Nimble said, laughing. “I may be young, but I’m not stupid. You don’t look like her at all. I mean, she’s very beautiful. And, no offense, you’re ugly. No way I’d confuse you with her. But by any chance, have you seen her? See, Mom went hunting this morning. To get us some fresh food. Like she always does. Only, like I said, she hasn’t been back for a very long while. We think it was this white stuff.”
“You mean . . . the snow?” Ereth asked.
“Oh. Is that what it’s called? We never saw snow before.”
“Why not?”
“Because we were born only a couple of months ago, silly.”
“Lungfish loogies,” Ereth said.
“What did you say?”
“I said, lungfish loogies!” Ereth barked.
Nimble cocked her head to one side. “Why did you say that?”
“Because I wanted to, bean head!”
The young fox stared open-mouthed at Ereth, trying to understand him. “Oh,” she said with a sudden grin, “I get it. You’re trying to be funny.”
“Gallivanting glowworms!” Ereth roared. “I am not trying to be funny! I’m serious.”
The next instant two more fox faces popped up behind Nimble and stared at Ereth. They looked very much like their sister, with red coats, white muzzles, ears much too big for their heads, and very large paws. Ereth could hardly tell them apart. When they looked at him, their faces showed disappointment.
“Who is that?” one of them asked Nimble.
“That, Flip, is a very funny old porcupine,” Nimble replied. “His name is Earwig Doormat.”
“It is not Earwig Doormat! It’s Erethizon Dorsatum!”
Nimble grinned. “But Doormat is easier to say.”
“He smells nasty,” the other young fox whispered to Nimble. Ereth assumed it was Tumble.
“Has . . . has he seen Mom?” Flip asked.
“I asked him.”
“What . . . what did he say?”
“He didn’t.”
“Mr. Doormat,” Flip asked shyly, “have you seen our mother?”
“Look here, brush tails,” Ereth cried. “The name is Ereth, not Doormat, and I’ve been out in the snow all day and night. I’m cold. I’m wet. I’m hungry. Do you think you could show some manners and invite me into your den? Or don’t foxes know how to be polite?”
“Of course we do,” Nimble said brightly. “Mom taught us. I just didn’t think you’d want to. Come on in and make yourself at home.”
With that the three foxes whirled around and disappeared. Though it happened right before Ereth’s eyes, he was not sure where they had gone.
“Where the frosted frog flip-flops are you?” he screamed.
Nimble stuck her head up from behind a boulder. “Right here, Doormat.”
“Stop calling me ‘Doormat’!” demanded Ereth as he lumbered up to where the young fox, a saucy look on her face, was waiting. “The name is Ereth.”
“Perish?”
“Ereth!”
“Oh, okay,” Nimble returned. “Whatever you say is fine with me. Just watch your step.”
Ereth scrambled over a mound of snow, then poked his nose down into a hole. Out of it wafted a smell of rotting meat so strong he gagged.
“Are . . . are you coming?” Flip called.
Deciding he had no choice, Ereth yelled, “Of course I’m coming!”
The porcupine lumbered down a steeply sloped tunnel some six feet in length. At the bottom it opened up into a large, roomy area. It was warm but rank with the stench of old meat.
As Ereth came into the den, the three young kits—lined up side by side—were sitting on their haunches, tongues lolling, heads cocked to one side, eyes bright and eager, staring at Ereth with curiosity.
Trying hard to recall who was who, the porcupine looked around.
In one corner, old leaves had been heaped together into a mound. Ereth assumed it was where the foxes slept. In another corner lay a small pile of gnawed bones. From the look of them Ereth guessed it was the remains of small animals, voles, mice, and the like: meals. Ereth, who hated even the thought of eating meat, felt revulsion.
Nimble said, “I’m sorry we can’t offer you any food. We’ve eaten everything. That’s why Mom went out.”
“But she’ll be back any minute,” Tumble insisted in his sulky way.
“She doesn’t usually stay away so long,” Flip offered.
“Which is okay,” Nimble added, “except we’re pretty hungry. We think,” she went on, “that with all this white stuff—it’s called snow”—she explained to the others—“that covered
