“Up there?” Tumble cried. “Up the bluff? That’s too hard!”
“Go lick a lemon tree,” Ereth snapped. “We don’t have any choice.”
It took all four of them to push the snowball up the face of the bluff. It was extremely hard work. More than once they ran into boulders and had to manipulate the increasingly heavy ball around them. Once it got away from them and rolled back to the bottom of the bluff, forcing them to start over.
At last, however, they reached the main den, without uncovering any more traps.
“Well,” Ereth said. “At least you can go from one den to the other without any danger.”
“But . . . Ereth . . .” Nimble asked plaintively, “what about food?”
Ereth sighed and looked back over the field again. He too was very hungry. He would have given anything to get back into the forest where the bark was plentiful. Instead he said, “We’ll have to mark out more paths first. A lot of them. Otherwise it won’t be safe.”
Neither Flip nor Nimble objected.
But Tumble said, “You’re all too slow. I know what to do.” Before anyone could object, he scrambled down to the base of the bluff along the path that had just been cleared. Ereth and the other two foxes watched him go.
“Why is he always crabby?” Ereth demanded.
Nimble exchanged looks with Flip.
“He misses Dad a lot,” Flip blurted out. “I mean we do too. But that’s all Tumble ever talks about. You know, how he wishes Dad would come home.”
A glum Ereth made no response. He merely watched Tumble.
At the base of the bluff the young fox was hastily putting together another ball of snow. Then, using his nose as well as his front paws, he began to shove it erratically across the field in the direction of Dimwood Forest. Clearly frustrated, he did not always stay behind the ball.
Ereth watched in dismay. “That worm wit is going to get himself killed,” he said. With that he turned to the other two foxes. “Stay here,” he commanded. Slipping and sliding, he scurried down the bluff after Tumble.
“Hey, wait!” he called.
Tumble did not even look around, but continued to roll his snowball forward.
Ereth, breathless from the exertion, caught up with the young fox. “Hey, you putrefying packet of parsnip pips, didn’t you hear me?”
Tumble paid no attention. Instead, with his back to the porcupine, he struggled even harder with the ever-growing ball of snow, stubbornly inching it forward.
“Don’t you understand?” Ereth cried after him. “This is dangerous work. Listen to me. You’re going to get yourself killed.”
Suddenly Tumble let go of the snowball, turned, and snapped, “Why don’t you leave me alone! You’re such a know-it-all. I’m sick and tired of being ordered around by you. Who are you? Nobody. We never asked you to come around here in the first place. We were perfectly fine until you stuck your nose in. Why don’t you just go away? That’ll make everybody happy.”
“Do you think I want to be here?” Ereth roared back. “Let me tell you something, cheese blister. I’ve got three billion better things to do. I’m only here because your mother asked me.”
“She did not!”
“Suffocating snake slime! Why else would I have come here? She said you were helpless. That you needed me to look after you. That you couldn’t get by on your own.”
“That’s not true!” Tumble shrilled, eyes hot with tears. Furious, he spun about and resumed pushing the snowball across the field, away from Ereth.
Ereth followed right after him.
When Tumble, with a darting glance over his shoulder, saw Ereth was at his heels, he cried, “We’re old enough to be on our own. The only reason you came to us was to get out of the snow, get warm, and eat our food. You’re just too lazy to go back to your own home. You’re nothing but an old, ugly, fat porcupine. And you stink, too!”
Ereth, taken aback by the new onslaught of words, stopped in his tracks. For a moment he was speechless.
“See?” Tumble went on. “You insult whoever you want, but you can’t take it, can you?
“Didn’t you hear me? We don’t need you,” Tumble insisted, going forward again. “My sister and brother feel the same way, only they’re too nice to say it. Well, I’m not nice or polite. I say what I think. Anyway, my father will get here soon and when he does, you can—”
At that precise moment the snowball exploded, hurling snow into Tumble’s face.
The young fox, taken by surprise, stood in place, trembling. Poking up through the snow were the sharp steel jaws of another trap.
“There,” Ereth said angrily. “Didn’t I tell you to be careful?”
Tumble whirled around. “Oh, can’t you ever be quiet!” he said into Ereth’s face. Then he burst into tears.
Ereth blinked. “But what . . . what’s the matter?”
The fox couldn’t speak. He was sobbing too hard.
“Talk!” Ereth barked.
“I . . . want my mom . . .” Tumble whispered. “So badly. I miss her so much . . .”
Ereth paled. “But . . . she’s . . .”
“I know she’s dead!” Tumble cried, switching back to anger, though the tears continued to flow. “Stop telling me things I know. Oh, why don’t you just go away! You’re awful to have around. You’re bossy. You’re sarcastic. And do you know what you are most of all? You’re so old your brain has turned gray. Yeah, that’s what you are. Old!” With that Tumble lifted his nose, opened his mouth wide, and began to howl. “I want my daddy!” he cried again and again.
An appalled Ereth looked back over his shoulder to see if Flip and Nimble were watching and listening. To his great relief they were nowhere in sight. He could only hope they had gone down into the safety of the den and had not witnessed any of this.
Ereth turned back to Tumble. The young fox was just sitting there, his head low, looking miserable.
“Tumble . . .” Ereth began, not knowing what else to say.
“Go away!” the fox screamed, not looking up. “I hate you.
