The trail, which was quite narrow, went straight for a few yards and then looped around a tree. Beyond that it took another sharp turn around a boulder, all of which made it impossible to see ahead very far. Poppy crept along carefully, her pink nose up, sniffing. Her legs—even as they carried her forward—were poised to spring back and flee.
The farther Poppy went, the stronger was the smell she had detected. Without question it was an animal smell, but not one Poppy knew right away. What’s more, as she went on, the sounds grew louder. It occurred to her that whatever was around the bend was more than one creature.
She paused and wondered if her sister might be right— if she was too much of a risk taker. No, she thought. I am not going to let Lilly tell me how to act.
Resolved, Poppy crept forward. When she spied a tangle of roots by the side of the path, she threaded her way through. That brought her around the bend. After making sure she was hidden, she poked her head up.
Seated in the middle of the path ahead was a bear.
CHAPTER 10
The Bears
TO POPPY’S EYES, the bear, cinnamon brown in color with a patch of white splashed on her chest, was enormous, quite the largest animal Poppy ever had seen in Dimwood Forest. Not nearly so huge—but big enough—was the bear cub tumbling about between his mother’s legs. The cub was in a flurry of motion, climbing awkwardly on his mother only to tumble down and dart away, then to dash back, trip, hug his mother, and give her a lick before tumbling off again, but never too far.
Poppy might have found mother and infant cub a charming scene if it had not been so terrifying. Bears, she knew, were perfectly willing to eat mice.
As it was, she stared at the bears a moment too long. The little bear spied her, too. Bright brown eyes very large, mouth partly open, pink tongue extended, the cub gawked at Poppy, as if not believing what he was seeing, as if he had never seen such a little creature before. Poppy, captivated by the bear’s childish, comical expression, looked back.
The next moment the cub made a sudden leap to where Poppy was lodged. Poppy ducked just in time. But the cub, squealing and chuffing, stuck his drippy nose deep among the roots. Poppy squirmed away, only to find herself squeezed against another root, one she could not pass.
The cub shoved a paw down among the roots, close to Poppy. Heart hammering, Poppy pressed herself as flat as her spine would allow against a root. The cub’s claws stroked down her furry side. It was close but harmless. Still, Poppy knew it was only a matter of time before the cub did her real damage.
She looked for a way to escape, saw a small hole, dived into it, then scratched her way up, only to come up against the cub’s snorting wet nose again. Once more she dived, dropping into a crevice bounded by roots on three sides. With the excited cub clumping all about, pawing wildly, Poppy was momentarily safe—but trapped. She told herself to be patient: the cub would grow tired and back off. Instead, the cub began squealing, “Mama! Mama! Look!”
To Poppy’s horror, the mother bear rose up and lumbered over to see what was so interesting to her cub. Each step she took made the ground tremble.
“Help!” squealed Poppy in her highest voice. “Help!” Whom she was calling, she had no idea. She had told Junior to stay behind.
“All right, Brutus,” said the big bear as she came up to her cub. “What do you have there?”
“I don’t know what you call it,” said the cub.
“Let me see,” said the mother bear. She thrust her large black nose deep down among the roots very close to Poppy—so close her strong breath made Poppy gag. While the bear couldn’t quite reach her, Poppy could see her yellow teeth. There were a lot of them, all long and jagged.
The mother bear withdrew her snout. “Brutus,” she informed her cub, “what you have caught is a mouse.”
“Can I eat it?”
“If you want to. But you’ve only trapped it. Now you have to catch it.”
“How do I do that?” cried the little bear, hardly able to contain his excitement.
“Now Brutus, be patient. That bitty thing isn’t going anywhere, so just keep clawing and scratching. You’ll get to it soon enough. If it tries to run off, just slap it with your paw. That will kill it, but you can still eat it.”
“Can you show me how, Mama?”
“Of course I can. What you do is . . . oh my, what do we have here?” She turned about. So did the cub.
Poppy, taken equally by surprise, managed to look around. Mephitis was trotting around the bend. Riding just behind the skunk’s head was Junior. The young mouse called, “Hey, Mama, where are you?”
“Is that . . . mouse calling you ‘mama’?” the cub asked.
“No, Brutus, honey, I’m not the mouse’s mother. . . . Now come here with me.”
“Why?” said the cub. “Why can’t I play with that large one, too?” He bounded toward Mephitis.
“Brutus!” cried the mother bear. “Don’t!”
It was too late. As Brutus tumbled toward Mephitis, the skunk swiveled around, stood up on his forepaws, aimed his backside, and sprayed a double cloud of stink. The cub took it right in his face.
“Yipes!” he shrieked.
Trying to reverse his forward rush, the cub thrust out his paws and skittered to such a sudden halt that he tumbled forward, did a somersault, and landed flat on his back. “Mama!” he screamed. “Mama! It stinks! It stinks!”
The mother bear rushed forward, only to be met by a second smelly squirt from Mephitis.
With a roar, the bear smacked the skunk to one side, sending Junior flying in a different direction. Without pause she scooped up the squealing cub and went crashing through the woods as fast as she could go.
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 and go through the Old Orchard, and we’ll be at Gray House. I think that when we get across the creek and climb the bank, we’ll be able to see it.”
Poppy, feeling quite emotional and wishing she were alone, said only, “I don’t recall.”
Lilly sniffed. “Poppy,” she said, “aren’t you going to bathe?”
“Maybe,” said Poppy. She had been intending to wash herself, but she didn’t want it to appear she was doing so at her sister’s bidding. Instead, she sat by the water’s edge, put her paw in the water, and dabbled about. “The water is quite warm,” she said.
“What do you mean, ‘maybe’ you’ll take a bath?” demanded Lilly. “Poppy, the two of you cannot come home smelling the way you do. It would be disrespectful. Really, you smell horrible, which is something only your sister could tell you.”
“Lilly,” Poppy returned, while continuing to gaze upon the flowing water, “that is something only my sister would tell me.”
Mephitis and Junior tumbled out of the woods. “Hey, a creek,” cried Junior. “Who wants to go swimming?” He did not wait for a reply, but slid off the skunk’s back and plunged into the water.
“Young mouse!” cried Lilly. “You are splashing me!”
Junior’s response was to slap the water hard with a paw, sending a water spray right at his aunt.
She jumped away, crying, “Poppy, tell him to stop!”
Poppy, speaking softly and with a hint of a smile said, “Junior, do stop.”
“Okay,” said Junior, with an understanding grin. He began to swim about. Mephitis joined him, and the two frolicked.
Lilly watched them for a moment. Then she said, “Poppy, I’ve decided something.”
“What is that?”
“I think I’ll go downstream a bit, take the bridge across, and get on home. First. That way I can tell them you’re coming. You and Junior can take your time.”
“What you mean, Lilly,” said Poppy, “is that you want to warn them about me.”
“Poppy,” said Lilly, “Papa is easily agitated.”
“Then go right ahead and un-agitate him,” said Poppy. “We’ll come along soon.”
“Fine,” said Lilly, and she started off along the edge of the creek. She hadn’t gone far before she stopped and looked back. “Poppy, promise me you and Junior will bathe.”
“Actually,” said Poppy. “I’m going to ask Mephitis to give us another dose of his stink.”
“Poppy, you wouldn’t!” squealed Lilly.
“No,” said Poppy with a rueful smile. “But I’d like to.”
Lilly hesitated, as if wanting to say something, before moving off. This time she did not look back.
As Lilly disappeared around a bend, Poppy sighed with disappointment. The truth was, she was not liking her sister very much. The next moment Poppy gave herself a mental scolding: Lilly is just being who she is, she felt obliged to acknowledge.
“You know who you and Lilly remind me of,” called Junior when he saw that his aunt had left.
“Who?”
“Me and my sister Columbine.”
“That’s ridiculous,” said Poppy.
“Nope! We’re just the same,” insisted Junior. “We don’t like each other, either. Where’s she going?”
“Lilly decided to go ahead, to tell them not to be too upset when they see us—or at least to act as if they aren’t upset.”
“What are they going to get upset about?” asked Junior.
“Oh . . . it’s too complicated to explain,” said Poppy. She sat for a moment, thinking about what Junior had said, only to be suddenly doused by a spray of water.
Startled, Poppy looked up. “Ragweed Junior!” she cried out. The next second she caught herself: I don’t want to be angry. And after all, she really did need to wash. With that thought, she plunged into the creek so abruptly she took Junior by surprise and dunked him.
He came up spluttering, “Hey, Mama,” he shouted. “What are you doing?” The next moment he burst out laughing, and the two fought a furious water battle. Looking on, Mephitis laughed with them, but then joined in on Poppy’s side.
“Not fair!?
?? cried a gleeful Junior.
After exhausting themselves, the trio waded out of the creek and lay down in the sun to dry.
“Hey, Mama?” called Junior. “How far do we have to go?”
“It’s pretty much what your Aunt Lilly said: cross over the creek, get through the Old Orchard, and Gray House will be right there.”
“Cool.”
Poppy, eyes closed, lay back in the sun with her furry white belly up. Her whiskers dried quickly. The warmth filled and soothed her. She was thoroughly relaxed when she heard Mephitis whisper, “Hey, Junior, your mother is pretty cool.”
“Maybe,” said Junior. “But it sure was a good thing we were there for the bear. She’s so wimpy. I liked her better when she stunk.”
“Yeah,” muttered the skunk.
Poppy, not wanting to hear any more of this conversation, sprang up.
“Hey, Mama,” Junior called. “Where you going?”
“I think I need to be alone,” she said, and walked away along the creek bank.
CHAPTER 13
Junior and Mephitis
DID I SAY SOMETHING WRONG?” Junior said to Mephitis.
“Don’t ask me,” said the skunk. “I don’t know nothing about parents. I can’t ever figure them out.”
“Neither can I,” said Junior. “All I know is, I’m never going to be like that.”
“Like what?”
“Old. It’s too weird. Hey, did you hear what my mama said?”
“About what?”
“Aunt Lilly. She decided to go ahead to that Gray House so she could tell them not to be freaked out when they saw us.”
“I heard,” said the skunk. “But I don’t think your aunt was talking about your mama.”
“Exactly,” said Junior, grinning. “It’s us she doesn’t like.” He belched and lifted a paw. Mephitis slapped it.