“Where is everyone?”
Thutter’s question was certainly a logical one. The small tidepool known as the Eddy had always been one of the most popular feeding spots in the small habitat. To find it empty of critters at this time of night was indeed surprising.
“I don’t know,” said Plumpkin, “Maybe no one’s hungry right now.”
“Well, more for us, right?” joked Thutter as he followed the rat down toward the water. He tried to make light of the eerie quiet but deep down his stomach began to knot.
“Just hurry up and find something,” barked Scruffy, “we haven’t got all day.”
TThe mouse had agreed to stop at the Eddy—which was located in the Glade’s northeastern corner where Foggy Creek meets Boggy Creek—only because it was on the way to the Crossing, the one place a glade-dweller could cross over into the Salt Marsh somewhat safely. As it was, each of the critters found their fill without issue. The stop at the Eddy would be quick and uneventful.
Well, so it seemed, anyway, Reader.
The four travelers had just climbed back up the bank and started around the bend that marks the beginning of Boggy Creek Trail, the path that would lead them to the Crossing, when a curious voice echoed in their ears. “Hi ya, Thutter.”
Thutter didn’t need to turn around. He’d know Minniebelle Magee’s voice anywhere. After all, she’d been the object of his affection for as long as anyone could remember.
The shrew’s heart pounded as he spun his whole body around. “Hi ya, Belle,” he said, upon finding the soft brown eyes of the velvety, ginger-coated shrew.
Now, Reader, while most of Minniebelle’s friends called her “Belle” with one syllable, Thutter had always pronounced it with two syllables: “bel-ly”. He had tried to call her the single-syllable version once, but Belle would have nothing to do with it. She liked Thutter’s special name for her, as it made her feel…well, special.
Before Thutter could say another word, a snout was pushing hard against his shoulder. “C’mon, kid, we gotta keep moving.” Scruffy couldn’t risk Thutter talking. If the kid slipped, then word of their “adventure” would surely get back to his family—and the mouse’s plans would be ruined. Not wanting to upset his friend, Thutter turned and followed after the mouse without saying another word to Belle.
Soon, he and the others were disappearing around the bend, leaving Belle and her friends none the wiser about their intention to leave the Glade. With each step, of course, Thutter moved further away from Belle, and yet in his tiny little mind, he remained right next to her. I wish I would have stayed behind and talked with her he soon found himself thinking.
It didn’t take long, however, before Thutter’s regrets were being interrupted. First, by a loud grunting sound echoing from across the creek. Then, by a familiar voice from somewhere inside his head. “Never go past the Eddy, son,” his father had told him more than once. “Boggy Creek Trail is dangerous. The feri hide out along the creek banks. You don’t even see ‘em—or hear ‘em! Then, just like that, they’ve got ya!”
Thutter shuddered at the memory, and for a second or two, he gave real thought to saying he was ready to turn back. But then another memory flashed. Something from last night. Maybe a dream. He couldn’t be sure. All he knew was that he’d heard a voice. “You’ll be going on a journey soon,” it said. “A special journey, a journey that will change your life forever. Don’t turn back. If you do, you will regret it the rest of your life.”
The shrew had no idea where the voice had come from. In fact, he hadn’t even remembered hearing it until now, which is precisely when he wondered if this was the journey in question. In any case, the nearer he got to the Crossing, the more anxious he felt. Maybe if I’m talking, I can’t think about things, he thought, and in the next moment, he was glancing back at the mole, who was humming softly to himself. “Hey, Patch? Can I ask you something?”
“Sure, Thutter, what’s up?”
Thutter walked slower, allowing Patch to catch up to him. Once the two were side by side, he tried to find the words he needed, “Um, uh…are you, uh—”
Before Thutter could finish, Plumpkin appeared from just up the path. “Get down and stay quiet,” he said in a voice that demanded action.
The two insectivores complied, hurrying immediately over to a nearby shrub. After ducking under some of the plant’s large fronds, they remained still with eyes wide open. Neither knew just why they were hiding, but the swaying of the tall grass on the other side of the narrow dirt trail gave something of a hint. By the time the red forked tongue appeared they had no doubts.
It was the first time Thutter had ever seen such a thing, and yet even before he laid eyes on the pasty-white lips, or the jet-black head, or the bright yellow eyes of the scaly slitherer, the tiny shrew knew from the parting of the grass that his whole world was about to shatter. Crawling out of his cozy den to stroll the Glade would never be a thoughtless act again.
The shrew stiffened, his lungs and throat tightening. He hoped that the scaly creature wouldn’t notice the panic that gripped him. But it was soon clear that such hoping was in vain. Having found the weakest link among the four little critters, the slithering beast locked eyes with the tiny shrew and then started straight for him.
The thin forked tongue arrived first. Thutter slammed his eyes shut as it brushed against his furry little body. It slid up and then back down, tasting and feeling—and feeling and tasting. A shiver ran down the Thutter’s spine. He said nothing aloud, but with every heartbeat, he begged for a quick and painless end.
At some point, he heard something. A voice perhaps. It sounded rather distant at first. The second, or third time, he wasn’t sure which, it sounded much closer. Someone was calling his name.
“Thutter! Look!”
The young shrew wanted to. He really did. But the threat of seeing that head—those eyes. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t open his eyes. Not yet, anyway.
“Go ahead, Thutter. It’s okay! ”
Again, someone called his name. The voice was different, though. This time he recognized it. “Thutter! You can open your eyes! He’s gone!”
By the time the shrew finally did open his eyes, the last of the snake’s pointed tail was disappearing into the tall reeds that sat along the creek. The tiny shrew took a deep breath and released it. He had somehow avoided becoming the snake’s prey. In the very next instant, however, a loud, stabbing screech echoed from the sky above. Thutter glanced up. Having escaped death by one predator, he suddenly felt certain he was about to become food for another.
The eagle, however, seemed to have other intentions. Having appeared in the sky right above the critters one second. It was diving toward the creek the next, disappearing among the reeds the next.
None of the critters moved, and in a flash the eagle reemerged. But not alone. Flailing helplessly between the bird’s razor-sharp talons, the long, thick serpent that they had just encountered struggled to free itself.
With the adventurers still looking on, the eagle threw its head back, thrust its body forward, and released its grip. The snake hurtled through the air, flailing helplessly and landing on the far side of the creek with a loud thud. The eagle let out another deafening screech. Then, turning, it disappeared once more into the darkness, the shadowy night from which it had suddenly and unexpectedly appeared only seconds before.
The four would-be adventurers, meanwhile, stunned and speechless, remained completely still—each doing his best to process the absurd scene they had just witnessed. Eventually, Plumpkin felt something brush by him. He glanced to his right. There, on the ground next to him, lay Thutter, spread eagle and out cold. It took the rat only a second to discern what had happened. “Well, I guess it’s safe to say that our little friend here has never seen one of them before.”
Whether Plumpkin was referring to the snake or to the eagle that had assaulted the snake, it didn’t matter. The shrew had passed out from seeing enough. Patch responded immediately. Bending down, he rubbed his whiskers against his friend’s face. Thutter stirred a second later. As Patch helped the shrew to his feet, he hoped that his young friend had had experienced an awakening of sorts, a change of mind.
Thutter shook his coat to free it of dirt. Then, after a quick glance around, he looked at Scruffy and said, “Well, c’mon…let’s go! We better get a move on if we’re gonna get back by sunup.”
Patch shook his head. He could hardly believe it. He thought for sure that Thutter would be ready to head back home by now. What a strange night this is turning out to be, he thought to himself, a strange night indeed.