“Got you,” said Marty the Fisher. “Got you at last.”
CHAPTER 25
What Happened at the Cabin
OPEN-MOUTHED, Ereth stared at the fisher.
“You thought you were being clever, hiding with those kits for so long,” Marty sneered. “But you’re too stupid to know that I’m the most patient creature in the world. I’ve waited and watched every move you made. I saw you pretending to take care of those foxes when all you were doing was hiding from me. I saw you rush through the woods and take an indirect route back here. I saw and I followed. I’m like death. You can’t escape me!
“You coward!” he went on. “I know you for what you are. You’re an old, witless, selfish porcupine. But now you’re going to get what you deserve. Get down from there!”
“But . . . but . . . why?” a very frightened Ereth stammered. “Why are you so angry at me? What did I do to you?”
“You porcupines think you can go and do anything you want,” Marty replied angrily. “You’re nothing but self-centered beasts without any feeling for anyone but yourselves. You don’t care what you say or do. You think nothing of others. You think your quills will keep you safe. Well, I’m here to show you, porcupine, no one can be safe from Marty the Fisher. Not even you. Now get down!”
“But . . . but . . . I’m not like other porcupines,” Ereth stammered. “Or if I was, I’ve changed. I’ve become different. I have feelings. I do care what others think.”
“Liar!” Marty snarled. “Come on down here and get what you deserve!”
Ereth, knowing perfectly well what the fisher could do to him, remained where he was. While he could put up resistance, he was hardly in a place to do so. Beyond that, he was exhausted from his long, difficult trek back to the cabin.
He looked around. The barred window was behind him. No escaping that way. Nor was there any escape right or left. He glanced beyond the porch, toward the woods. There, perhaps, lay safety. If he could climb into a tree he might be able to defend himself. But first he had to get to the tree, and the new snow would be slippery, perhaps even deep in places.
“Get down!” Marty shouted, eyes cold and hard. “Get down or I’ll yank you down!” So saying, he reared back on his hind legs as though ready to attack.
“Moldering mouse marbles!” Ereth cried. “I don’t deserve this. I don’t!” But when he saw the fisher’s muscles tense, he knew he had no choice. He had to reach the trees.
Terrified, Ereth did what he had never done in his entire life. He made a flying leap off the windowsill. Kicking back hard, he sailed over the fisher’s head, landing with a hard thump on the porch.
Marty, caught by surprise, swung around.
Paws smarting from a painful landing, a dazed Ereth struggled to his feet. He spun about, trembling with panic, and waved his quilled tail wildly, ready to smack Marty across the face if he got too close.
Marty stepped back spryly.
Seeing that he had won a brief advantage, Ereth turned again. He tried to get off the porch by running but completely forgot about the steps. Missing the first one, he tumbled head over tail, doing three complete somersaults before landing on his back in the snow, belly exposed.
Shrieking with rage, Marty extended his claws and took a great leap off the porch, aiming right at the porcupine. Ereth saw him coming and rolled over, but not fast enough. The fisher managed to snare him with his front claws, leaving two long scratches across Ereth’s belly. Blood began to flow.
“Potato pip paste!” Ereth screamed. “I’m being murdered! Help!” He continued his roll, then turned again, once more putting his tail between himself and the snarling fisher.
Marty, alert to the danger, backed off.
A frantic Ereth began to race toward the trees, taking what were for him great bounding leaps. As he went he trailed streaks of blood, which were like stitch marks on the white snow.
The fisher saw where Ereth was heading. With a burst of speed he shot past the porcupine, made a sharp U-turn, and confronted him head-on.
Ereth came to a skidding stop. He started to turn, but saw that if he did, the fisher would be herding him right back toward the cabin, the last place Ereth wanted to be.
“Give up, you stupid beast,” Marty taunted. “You don’t have a chance!”
“You occupational ignoramus!” Ereth screeched, huffing and puffing as he tried to recover his breath. His heart was hammering so hard it was making him dizzy.
Trying to defend himself, he tucked his head down between his front legs, shaping himself into a ball of bristling quills. Then, with mincing steps, he awkwardly waddled forward. This moved him toward Marty, but with his head so low he could no longer see where he was going.
Marty, seeing that Ereth was attacking blindly, backed up and quickly circled the porcupine, looking for a place to attack. Noticing that the quills along Ereth’s side were flattened, he leaped forward, both front paws out, trying to knock Ereth off balance.
Hit hard where he least expected it, Ereth rolled away. Once again his belly was exposed. Once again, the fisher struck, drawing more blood.
The pain was enough to force Ereth to uncoil himself. He had to see where he was, had to see where the fisher was, had to know how to escape. But when he looked about he was so confused and woozy he couldn’t find his enemy. Belatedly, he saw that the fisher had jumped in front of him again. Even as Ereth realized his whereabouts, Marty attacked, this time aiming right at Ereth’s face.
The porcupine ducked. He avoided the worst but received a bad scrape on one ear even as he managed to butt the fisher hard, hoping
