“Hey, mouse, you know me: I do what I want.”
“Then you’ll come?”
Mephitis lifted a paw. Junior slapped it.
“Be ugly!” said Junior.
“Better than ugly, dude,” said Mephitis. “Bad.”
CHAPTER 7
Leaving
NEXT MORNING POPPY and Rye were up before daylight, going over family arrangements and special problems: Pipsissewa had an earache. Scrub Oak had to be reminded about his chores. Walnut needed to study his lessons more than he had been doing. Locust should be urged not to stay up too late reading the stars. Most importantly: when did Poppy hope she would return?
“As soon as possible,” she said. “I promise.”
“I’ll be right here—waiting,” said Rye. “Are you really taking Mephitis?” he asked.
“If he’s here on time. If not, I’ll go without him.”
“And if Junior then decides not to go?”
“At least I’ve tried.”
“I know you have,” said Rye, giving her a nuzzle. “Actually, I think Junior went off to fetch Mephitis.”
“I suppose I should have spoken to that skunk’s parents,” said Poppy.
“Too late now. But maybe you’d better tell Ereth you’re leaving. You know how much he worries about you.”
Agreeing, Poppy went down the path to Ereth’s log. “Ereth!” she called. “Are you home?”
“Asparagus teeth!” came a reply from deep inside the log. “Of course I’m home. Where else would I be?”
Poppy smiled and went into the dim, foul-smelling log. Ereth was there, sucking on his lump of salt, now no bigger than an acorn. When she appeared, he barely looked up. All he said was “Have you any idea how good salt is?”
“Ereth, I’ll be going away for a while.”
Ereth looked up. “Where?”
“I’m afraid my father isn’t well. That’s why Lilly came. I need to go see him.”
“What the bat bilge for?”
“Really, Ereth, I would think it’s obvious. Lungwort is my father. He’s elderly. If he’s not well, I need to see him. Wouldn’t you go see your father if he were ill?”
“No.”
“Well, I’m different.”
“You once told me you didn’t like your father,” said Ereth. “Remember that time we planted a tree in honor of Ragweed—the first Ragweed? It was right near your father’s house. We didn’t even see him.”
“Because my father didn’t like Ragweed.”
“Or porcupines.”
“Ereth, my father may be difficult, but . . .”
“But what?”
“Ereth, I believe children owe something to parents. My parents raised me. Cared for me. Protected me. Fed me. Looked after me.”
“Poppy,” said Ereth, “Junior isn’t here. You can turn down the vomit volume. You told me Lungwort made life miserable for you. Restricted you. Always wanted to keep you in your place.”
“That was then, and . . .”
“Has anything changed?”
Poppy shrugged. “I hope so.”
“Since when do parents get free passes?”
“Ereth, I’m going.”
“When?”
“This morning. Right now.”
“Now?”
“Yes, with Lilly and—”
“And?”
“Junior.”
“Junior! Grumpy goat galoshes. What a picnic. Anyone else?”
“Mephitis.”
“The skunk?” cried Ereth.
Poppy nodded.
“Let me get this right: you are going to go home with your sister who talks like a grammar book, your son who is rude, and a skunk you don’t like, to your father you can’t stand. Have I got it all?”
“Yes,” said Poppy.
“Fried Frisbee freckles!” cried Ereth. “This is as brainless as half-baked bagpipes. What are you punishing yourself for?”
Poppy closed her eyes.
“Besides,” the porcupine demanded, “who is going to protect you?”
“Oh goodness, Ereth, that’s silly.”
“I’m going with you.”
“No, Ereth, you will not,” Poppy said quickly. “First of all, I can protect myself. Second, this is a private family matter. I’m not interested in leading a parade. Besides, you need to stay here and help Rye. Now good-bye. I’ll be back soon.” With that, Poppy reached up on her hind legs, gave Ereth a quick kiss on the tip of his nose, then hurried away.
Ereth stared cross-eyed at his nose.
Poppy headed back toward the snag and was halfway there when she saw Mephitis and Junior. They were so alike in looks, yet so different in size, that Poppy almost laughed.
Poppy considered the skunk. She really did not know anything about him. She didn’t even know where he lived, or who his parents were, or how Junior and he had become friends— or why, for that matter. She had tried to talk to the skunk, but Mephitis was not given to small talk. Since he couldn’t fit into the snag, more often than not Junior spent his time at the skunk’s house. Once again Poppy regretted never having gone over to introduce herself to Mephitis’s parents.
As she drew closer to the snag, she saw that Rye and the children had gathered to say good-bye. Lilly was waiting, too, but as Poppy arrived she saw that her sister’s whiskers were stiff and her tail twitching.
“Poppy, can I speak to you for a moment—privately?” Lilly asked.
The two sisters went off a few steps. “Poppy,” said Lilly, her lips pursed and her paws folded tightly, “is that . . . skunk coming along?”
Out of the corner of her eye, Poppy could see that Mephitis was watching them. She said, “He and Junior are best friends.”
“Frankly,” Lilly said, “I don’t think it wise. He seems rather . . . surly.”
“He’ll be fine,” said Poppy, wishing she believed it. She broke away from Lilly and went up to the skunk. “Mephitis, I understand you want to go with us?”
Mephitis pointed his sharp nose to the ground. When he and Poppy met, which was not often, he usually dropped his tail and looked anywhere but at her. It made Poppy feel uncomfortable—as if the skunk were hiding something.
“I guess,” he murmured, as much to the ground as to her.
“I’m very glad you’re coming,” Poppy forced herself to say. “And . . . is it all right with your parents?”
“Come on, Mama,” called Junior. “Don’t be so freaking nosey.” He turned to his friend and belched. The skunk grinned, and the two slapped paws over Poppy’s head.
Poppy winced and started to say something more, but decided she didn’t want to begin the trip in an even worse mood. Instead, she looked around. She caught Rye’s gaze. He winked. It made Poppy smile.
“I guess it’s time to go,” she said in her best chirpy
