Poppy, even as the rank cloud of skunk stink descended on her, jumped out from the roots calling, “Junior! Where are you? Are you hurt?”
CHAPTER 11
A Question of Bathing
A RAUCOUSLY LAUGHING JUNIOR crawled out from the bushes. “Skunk,” he cried, “you are totally ugly sick!”
“Did I get them both?” said a grinning Mephitis as he reappeared on the path.
“You certainly did, and I thank you,” cried Poppy, rather breathless as she checked herself all over from head to tail.
Junior and Mephitis met mid-trail and slapped paws. “Skunk,” proclaimed Junior, “you have the sickest stink in the world! Ultimate wicked.”
“You ain’t so good yourself, mouse,” returned his friend, laughing just as loudly.
“That little bear almost caught me,” said Poppy. “Then I thought he was going to get you.”
Junior’s smile got bigger even as he wrinkled his nose.
“What’s the matter?” said Poppy.
“Little Mama,” said Junior, “no offense, but you stink. I mean, nasty stink.” He began to laugh again.
Poppy, smiling weakly, sniffed. “You don’t smell so good, either.”
Mephitis, nodding, said, “Miss Poppy, I’m afraid you’ve turned into a skunk.”
“Well, I wasn’t eaten,” said Poppy. “Thanks to you.”
“I guess my stink can pretty well chase anything away.”
“This skunk,” said Junior, crawling back up to take his seat on the skunk’s head, “is one smelly dude—even for a skunk. But it was me who heard you calling, Mama. Good thing I didn’t stay back the way you told me to, right?”
“I suppose so,” Poppy felt obliged to say.
“See,” proclaimed Junior, greatly enjoying himself, “a mouse has to do what a mouse has to do! And what he has to do is protect his wimpy old mama!”
A breathless Lilly burst upon the trail. “Good gracious,” she cried. “There you are. I was so worried. What in the world was all that— Oh, my heavens!” she cried, slapping a paw to her nose. “What is that smell?”
“It’s my buddy Mephitis,” said Junior.
“Why, it’s absolutely . . . revolting,” said Lilly. She hurried past the skunk toward Poppy, only to stop. “Poppy! I’m afraid you, too . . . have a very bad . . . odor.”
“Don’t you even want to know what happened?” said Poppy.
“It’s fairly obvious—this malodorous skunk sprayed you.”
“Actually,” said Poppy, “this very brave skunk saved me from a bear.”
Mephitis grinned.
“A bear!” cried Lilly. “Here? Attacking?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“This forest is perfectly hateful,” said Lilly. “And even if Mephitis did save you, he might have done it with greater consideration for others. Really, Poppy,” she said, “this is all quite awful.”
“Lilly, didn’t you hear me? Mephitis saved my life.”
“As they say,” said Lilly, “there are worse things than death. Now Poppy, as soon as we get to Glitter Creek you must wash yourself off. You, too, Junior. Thoroughly. I mean, you cannot—you must not—come home smelling like that.”
“Yo, Mama,” said Junior, “think what you would say if I came home smelling so bad.”
“You are all—!” Poppy, unable to decide what word to use, turned about and marched down the trail thinking, I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.
I can’t wait till I get home, thought Lilly.
This forest is dangerous, thought Junior.
She called me brave, thought Mephitis.
But nobody spoke a word.
CHAPTER 12
On the Banks of Glitter Creek
POPPY, IN THE LEAD, kept to herself. Lilly came next. Junior, riding on Mephitis’s back again, was last. Though Poppy and Lilly remained silent, Junior and Mephitis quickly resumed their laughter and loud chatter. Mostly they talked about bad smells they had encountered—arguing loudly about who had smelled the worst stench. Junior recalled a mess of rotting stinkweed. Mephitis had once come upon a clutch of broken bird eggs—two weeks old. Junior countered with a tale of a stagnant pond filled with dead fish. Mephitis topped all with a tale about a field of elk poop. Poppy tried hard not to listen to this truly revolting conversation. But once or twice she caught herself grinning. They were, she had to admit, funny in their way, even though Poppy was certain she and her best friend and cousin, Basil, had never, ever talked about such things when they were young.
It was noon when Poppy reached the edge of the forest and stood on the banks of Glitter Creek. The water was not nearly so turbulent as it had been when she crossed it the first time, so long ago. Now the creek was almost languid in its movement, though here and there the water frothed and foamed. Elsewhere it twirled in gurgling whirlpools, even as the creek babbled around and between rocks and logs. Dragonflies hovered low, wings a blur, before darting off in bursts of nervous energy. In contrast, a turtle, having found a sunlit rock, sat utterly still, dreaming its torpid turtle dreams.
Poppy had forgotten what it was like not to be beneath the trees of Dimwood. The bright sun dazzled her, making her a little dizzy. Overhead the blue sky, with its high-flying birds and drifting clouds, was like another realm. The smells were lighter than in the forest. Here the breezy air carried now this scent, now another, in a shifting kaleidoscope of gentle nose-tickling sensations.
As Poppy absorbed it all, the thought came to her that the creek was like a boundary. On one side, where she stood, was the edge of Dimwood Forest. On the far side was open land—a very different world. Poppy felt a moment of panic. The creek also marked the dividing line between her past and her present. Did she really want to return to the past? She had barely considered the notion when Lilly came out of the woods.
Poppy’s sister—as she had done since the smelly encounter with the bears—kept her distance, going so far as to make sure she stayed upwind, and being very obvious about it.
“I’m so glad,” she announced, “to be out from all that forest gloom and stench. Now all we have to do is cross the creek
