like a reflection in dark water. Something was moving in the sky…coming closer…words were rising from his heart as another message formed itself inside him.
Fear nothing until squirrels fly through the skies .
Squirrels in the sky! That was too ridiculous! It might as well be “until the ends of the earth”! He need fear nothing, ever! He sprang up, shut the door on the swallowing pit, and laughed wildly in the dark where no living thing heard him.
CHAPTER SIX
N THE DAYS AND WEEKS AFTER THE FUNERAL , Urchin learned more of his duties. As Crispin had promised, he learned to use a sword, as well as the less exciting things like when to bow and when not to. As a very new and young tower squirrel, he found it safest to bow to everyone. He carried messages. He learned how to serve at the table, and how to clean and polish a sword. He learned to cook fish, and didn’t mind that, so long as Padra didn’t expect him to eat it. He discovered that the water from the spring at the gate was by far the best water anywhere on the island, especially when it was freshly drawn. He learned to clean and care for Padra’s chamber, which always smelled faintly of smoked fish. When even the moss for the bedding began to smell smoky, he threw it out and replaced it. His own bed became more of a nest, but nobody minded. He was gathering pawfuls of moss one morning when he saw Gleaner scrambling about in the high branches of a rowan tree, collecting sprays of bright red berries—but she pretended not to see him.
When the fresh moss had been piled onto the beds, Urchin was supposed to report to Padra. Padra being an otter, this was often difficult, as he could have swum halfway to the mists. More often, he would be swimming near the shores on patrol, but that could mean a long journey around the island. (If Urchin saw Padra twirling about in the water with Arran, or loping along the shore with her, he thought it best to stay back and wait.) If Padra was nowhere to be found at all, Urchin had discovered that the best thing was to go up to Brother Fir’s tower and ask the priest’s permission to look out from there. He could be sure of a good view, a warm welcome, and a cup of hot berry cordial on a cold morning.
As this was turning out to be one of those mornings, Urchin ran up the stairs to Fir’s tower. He reached the workroom landing in time to see a roll of canvas waddling toward him on its own paws, and collide with it.
“Look where you’re going!” cried Needle from behind the canvas.
“Sorry!” said Urchin. “What’s that for?”
“Hold the other end and don’t ask stupid questions,” snapped Needle, and with a struggle they carried the canvas into a workroom and heaved it onto a long table. At last Urchin could see Needle’s face, and she looked tense and troubled.
“You all right?” he said.
“’Course I am!” said Needle. “The work’s really good. I sit next to a nice hedgehog called Thripple; she’s helping me to learn. She looks a bit odd, but she’s lovely. And Mum had the baby! A little boy! We call him Scufflen!”
“Oh, good!” said Urchin. But the trace of anxiety in her eyes told him that it wasn’t exactly good.
“He’ll be all right,” she went on quickly. “My mum’s been feeding him lots, so he’s putting on weight.”
“Oh,” said Urchin, and his heart sank. He knew what could happen to undersize babies. “Is he very tiny?”
“Who said he was tiny?” she snapped, and her spines bristled so that Urchin dodged. “There’s nothing at all the matter with him. And his paw…”
“What’s wrong with his paw?” asked Urchin.
“Didn’t say there was anything wrong, did I?” she said. Then she sat down on a bench and gave a little sigh. “I’m sorry. I know I’m not being very nice. And there isn’t anything the matter with his paw, not really. It’s just a teeny bit curled in. You’d hardly notice it if you didn’t know.”
“Maybe he just hasn’t opened
Fear nothing until squirrels fly through the skies .
Squirrels in the sky! That was too ridiculous! It might as well be “until the ends of the earth”! He need fear nothing, ever! He sprang up, shut the door on the swallowing pit, and laughed wildly in the dark where no living thing heard him.
CHAPTER SIX
N THE DAYS AND WEEKS AFTER THE FUNERAL , Urchin learned more of his duties. As Crispin had promised, he learned to use a sword, as well as the less exciting things like when to bow and when not to. As a very new and young tower squirrel, he found it safest to bow to everyone. He carried messages. He learned how to serve at the table, and how to clean and polish a sword. He learned to cook fish, and didn’t mind that, so long as Padra didn’t expect him to eat it. He discovered that the water from the spring at the gate was by far the best water anywhere on the island, especially when it was freshly drawn. He learned to clean and care for Padra’s chamber, which always smelled faintly of smoked fish. When even the moss for the bedding began to smell smoky, he threw it out and replaced it. His own bed became more of a nest, but nobody minded. He was gathering pawfuls of moss one morning when he saw Gleaner scrambling about in the high branches of a rowan tree, collecting sprays of bright red berries—but she pretended not to see him.
When the fresh moss had been piled onto the beds, Urchin was supposed to report to Padra. Padra being an otter, this was often difficult, as he could have swum halfway to the mists. More often, he would be swimming near the shores on patrol, but that could mean a long journey around the island. (If Urchin saw Padra twirling about in the water with Arran, or loping along the shore with her, he thought it best to stay back and wait.) If Padra was nowhere to be found at all, Urchin had discovered that the best thing was to go up to Brother Fir’s tower and ask the priest’s permission to look out from there. He could be sure of a good view, a warm welcome, and a cup of hot berry cordial on a cold morning.
As this was turning out to be one of those mornings, Urchin ran up the stairs to Fir’s tower. He reached the workroom landing in time to see a roll of canvas waddling toward him on its own paws, and collide with it.
“Look where you’re going!” cried Needle from behind the canvas.
“Sorry!” said Urchin. “What’s that for?”
“Hold the other end and don’t ask stupid questions,” snapped Needle, and with a struggle they carried the canvas into a workroom and heaved it onto a long table. At last Urchin could see Needle’s face, and she looked tense and troubled.
“You all right?” he said.
“’Course I am!” said Needle. “The work’s really good. I sit next to a nice hedgehog called Thripple; she’s helping me to learn. She looks a bit odd, but she’s lovely. And Mum had the baby! A little boy! We call him Scufflen!”
“Oh, good!” said Urchin. But the trace of anxiety in her eyes told him that it wasn’t exactly good.
“He’ll be all right,” she went on quickly. “My mum’s been feeding him lots, so he’s putting on weight.”
“Oh,” said Urchin, and his heart sank. He knew what could happen to undersize babies. “Is he very tiny?”
“Who said he was tiny?” she snapped, and her spines bristled so that Urchin dodged. “There’s nothing at all the matter with him. And his paw…”
“What’s wrong with his paw?” asked Urchin.
“Didn’t say there was anything wrong, did I?” she said. Then she sat down on a bench and gave a little sigh. “I’m sorry. I know I’m not being very nice. And there isn’t anything the matter with his paw, not really. It’s just a teeny bit curled in. You’d hardly notice it if you didn’t know.”
“Maybe he just hasn’t opened
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