Thutter had been in the eerie Salt Marsh for less than a minute when its creepiness began to get to him. “Are you sure the Solkreat are this way?” he asked.
Scruffy ignored the shrew. “There’s a trail over there,” he said, nodding toward a little wedge of dirt among the needlerush. Then, turning toward the woodrat, he added, “Uh, Plumpkin, my friend, you’ve got the lead, right?”
“So now it’s ‘friend’, huh?” mumbled Plumpkin, mostly under his breath, but loud enough to make Thutter and Patch chuckle a little.
They weren’t the only ones who had heard the rat’s mutterings. Just wait! You won’t be laughing come tomorrow—you’ll see! The mouse wanted to shout those words. For now, he held it in. His time would come. He was sure of it.
At the moment, the mouse had greater concerns. One of his fellow travelers could yet spoil everything for him. “So, Patch,” he said, turning toward the mole, “why do you think that this little trip is so bad, anyway? I mean, it’s not like anyone’s gonna die or anything.”
“How do you know?”
Taken aback by the mole’s response, Scruffy replied, “Well, I don’t, but adventures are supposed to be fun.”
“Is that what this is, Scruff? An adventure?” asked Patch. “I was beginning to think that it might be something else. I mean, I’d say this is much more of a quest than an adventure. Wouldn’t you?”
Just then, a strange feeling came over Scruffy. He couldn’t help but think Patch knew something—something he wasn’t saying. “Well, uh, sure, I-I guess so,” said the mouse. “I mean, uh—yeah, that’s it. We’re on a quest—a quest to find the Solkreat!”
Scruffy’s fumbling told Patch all he needed to know. He was right. The mouse was on a quest, all right—but for what and why?
“What’s a kwess?” asked Thutter who’d been listening quietly to his friends’ banter.
Turning toward the shrew, Patch replied, “That’s quest, Tut-tut. And a quest is a—”
“Big word for a search, that’s all!” finished Plumpkin.
“So, what are we searching for?”
“That’s a good question, Thutter,” said Patch. Then, turning toward Scruffy, he asked, “So, just what is it that we’re after, Scruff?”
“I told ya. We’re lookin’ for the Solkreat.” After shooting Patch a look which suggested he’d had enough of the mole’s questions, Scruffy added, “I think we better just keep quiet for a while. After all, you never know what’s out there.”
“Well, not to fear, right, Scruff? I mean you said so yourself, ‘It’s not like anyone’s gonna die or anything’!”
And, with that, the mole had the last words on the matter as the party grew quiet. They shuffled along in silence for some time, each step bringing them closer to the Solkreat and the object of the quest … whatever that was.
Thutter enjoyed the silence for a time as he gave no more thought to the journey’s goal. Instead, he allowed his mind to drift back to his cozy nest and to his family. The pleasant thoughts gave him a curious sense of comfort and peace, but they didn’t last long. Out of nowhere, he remembered something that he had failed to do.
“Oh no! I never told my mother where we were going,”he whispered under his breath.
Suddenly, Thutter felt sick as he thought about how worried his mother must be.
For the next moment or two, the young shrew tried to remind himself that they’d be back soon. The adventure would be over before they knew it. He took a deep breath to calm himself—which worked for a moment, but his thoughts soon shifted once more. This time he found himself thinking about their journey and the last words he’d heard from Scruffy: it’s not like anyone’s gonna die or anything.
The shrew gulped loudly at the unnerving memory. No one noticed. A moment later, Patch offered a proclamation that everyone heard loud and clear. “I’m starving!”
“Me too!” added Plumpkin.
Nothing else needed to be said. The others clearly agreed as they all turned their attention to finding a quick snack.
None of the foursome hunted alone. Scruffy and Plumpkin headed for a leafy palmetto bush, where they immediately took to rooting around for grub worms. Thutter and Patch, meanwhile, ambled over to a nearby sea grape bush, where they unexpectedly stumbled across a small hole. It either housed something furry and friendly or something furless and nasty. In either case, Patch had no interest in finding out. The tiny shrew, on the other hand, lacked the mole’s caution. “Wow, let’s see if someone’s home!” he suggested.
“No, I don’t think that’s—”
Before Patch could finish, Thutter was already gone, diving headfirst into the dark earthen cavity.
“Thutter! C’mon! We’ve got to go!” hollered Patch down the hole.
The mole didn’t receive an answer, which meant, of course, that he had only one option, and in a flash both insectivores disappeared below ground.
“Hullooo!” called Thutter. “Anybody here? Anyone home?”
With no answer and no evidence of any recent activity, the two friends relaxed. They each rubbed against the dirt walls and slid slowly along the soft, moist soil. To be underground was to finally feel safe and secure again.
“Don’t go too far, now,” cautioned Patch.
Thutter uttered a soft grunt as he disappeared around a bend.
Patch remained near the opening, where he used his perfectly shaped claws and pointed nose to sweep back a shallow layer of earth. He was certain he’d uncover something delectable in no time.
“Hmm, I know that smell,” whispered Patch a moment later. He twisted his head one way and then the other. Next, he stuck his nose up and moved back toward the opening a few steps. That’s when it hit him.
“Coon!”
The word had barely escaped his lips when he turned and looked up. He expected to find the hole through which he and Thutter had just crawled moments ago. Instead, a large beady eye filled the opening. Feeling its glare, Patch fell backward. And just in time! A long, razor-sharp claw replaced the eye, swiping downward, barely missing the reeling mole.
“Thutter! Run!”
Using his claws, Patch pushed himself away from the hole where the dangerous animal continued to reach for him. “Thutter, where are you?” he cried out again as he put some distance between himself and the probing claws of the masked creature. The dull echo of his own voice was the only response he received. So, getting to his feet, he turned and started through the den’s narrow passageways.
Patch wound his way through most of the connected tunnels of the burrow but found no sign of his friend. Then, he spotted some light. Another entrance. Thutter must have gotten out here, he thought. But just when he thought he might do the same, the same large paw with its frighteningly sharp claws appeared through the new hole.
For a moment, Patch thought about making his way back to the other hole, but he was tired and needed a rest. Making sure he was out of the creature’s reach, he sat back against the wall and tried to relax. All he could think about, however, was Thutter and how he hoped that the tiny shrew was somewhere safe, far away from the reach of the hungry and dangerous raccoon.