“Ereth . . . ?”
At first Ereth was not sure he heard his name. But the call came again, slightly more insistent.
“Ereth?”
Someone was calling to him.
Ereth opened his eyes. No one in front of him. Nor to either side. He looked back. It was Flip.
In spite of himself, Ereth scowled.
Flip stood some way off, afraid to come any closer.
“Ereth . . . ?” he called again cautiously. It sounded like a question, as if he were unsure he should even say the name.
Ereth felt his anger returning. “What is it?” he growled.
“Can . . . can I talk to you . . . ?”
“About what, tinkle brain?” the porcupine said, though he immediately regretted having spoken so.
“Ereth . . . Tumble came back to the den.”
“What about it?”
“He . . . he told us what he said to you. He’s very upset.”
Ereth thought of saying, “What about me?” but held his tongue.
“He said that he yelled at you,” Flip went on. “That he said a lot of . . . awful things. That he made you go away.”
Ereth grunted.
“I . . . I just wanted to tell you that what he said isn’t . . . the way Nimble and I . . . feel.”
Ereth, unprepared for the searing pain he felt, stared at the young fox. Turning, he shifted away from Flip and gazed longingly at the forest.
Flip drew a little closer. “Ereth,” he called. “I’m . . . I’m glad you came to us. I like you.”
Ereth sniffed.
“I . . . wish you’d come back . . .” Flip coaxed. “We found two more traps.”
“You did?” Ereth said.
“How many did you say there were?” Flip asked.
After a moment Ereth said, “Tumble just found another one. With the one you found before it adds up to five altogether. Then there was the one your mom . . . found. Those trappers said they had put down sixteen. If we can believe them, that means there’s just nine left.”
“We could find them,” Flip said. “I’m sure we could. But, Ereth, don’t you think it would be better if you stayed with us?”
Ereth continued to face the forest. Perhaps he should live alone, the way he had spent most of his life before he met Poppy. When he was alone no one hurt him. No one ignored him. Being alone was safe.
“I mean, maybe you could just stay until our dad gets back,” Flip said.
“Caterwauling catfish,” Ereth cried. “For all you know he may never come back.”
“Oh, sure he will,” Flip said. “He cares for us a lot. He does. It’s just that he’s very busy. I mean, he has to take care of his business.”
“What about my business?”
“Ereth,” Flip pleaded. “Tumble is very upset. I don’t think he meant what he said.”
Ereth sighed.
“Did you hear me?” Flip asked.
“Maybe . . . it was true,” Ereth whispered.
“Well, even if what he said was . . . a little bit true . . . Please, I still think we need you.”
Ereth turned around and faced him. “You really want me to stay?”
“Yes.”
Ereth sighed. “All right. But only until we find the rest of the traps. Or till your father gets back. Whichever comes first.”
“Oh, wow. That’s so great of you,” Flip said excitedly. “I’ll go tell the others.” With that he turned and bounded back along the trail toward the den. He had not gone ten steps when he stopped and returned to Ereth.
“Now what?” Ereth demanded.
“There’s something else I want you to know.”
“What?” Ereth said, preparing for the worst.
“I really like you,” Flip said. “I mean, you’re really . . . sweet.” With that the young fox hurried on back to the den.
Ereth stared after the young fox. Reaching up, he touched his nose on the spot where Poppy had once kissed it. “Sweet,” he muttered with a grimace. “Sweet is a word for nitwits and gumdrops. . . . Not . . . me.
“It’ll only be for a short time,” he told himself. “A very short time.” With that he began to waddle back along the trail Flip had just made, telling himself that it was, after all, the safest way to get anywhere.
Marty the Fisher watched with bitter disappointment as Ereth headed back toward the bluff.
“He’s gone back to them,” he growled. “That means I’m going to have to find some other way to get him alone.”
He thought for a while. Then he smiled.
“Maybe it’s time I found father fox. Yes, I think I’ll let Bounder know exactly what’s going on. He’ll flush that stupid porcupine out.”
With that thought, Marty whirled about and raced into the forest.
CHAPTER 19
In Search of Food
WHEN ERETH REACHED the den, the three foxes were sitting side by side near the entryway. Suddenly uncomfortable, Ereth gazed at them. Nimble and Flip returned his look. Tumble avoided eye contact altogether.
For a moment no one said anything.
It was Nimble who called, “Hi, Ereth, where you been?”
“Out,” Ereth said. “Walking.”
“Oh.”
“See anything interesting?”
“No.”
Silence.
“Listen here,” Ereth snapped, “you tasteless tubs of toad twaddle, if you think . . .” Hearing himself, Ereth paused, cleared his throat, and began again. “What I mean is that if you willow wallows think I’m going to do all the work, while you loaf and soak up the sun like a bunch of cross-eyed octopuses—No! I didn’t mean that. I . . .”
“What would you like us to do?” Flip said. “Chores? Hunt? Clean up? Whatever you say, Ereth. We’ll be glad to do it.”
“How about making some more snowballs?” Ereth continued testily. “Start rolling them along the base of the bluff, then go across the field in any direction you want. Just stay behind the balls. Do you understand? Behind!
“If there are any trails you and your mother used a lot, make sure you roll the balls those ways. Any questions? Problems? None? Good. Then get going!”
Yapping and braying, the foxes hurried down along the trails they had already made, packed up some new snowballs, and began to roll them in different directions.
When the three foxes returned to the den and Ereth, they were exhausted but elated.
“We found three more traps,” Nimble cried with glee as she bounded up the bluff.
“Fine,” Ereth said. “Good. We’re making progress. It won’t be long before you’ve found them all. We
