Now as you may well know, Reader, shrews by nature are a very social bunch—so much so that they will often share the same nest with other shrew families. But the McClutters were different. Though they shared the burrow, the Knoll-by-the-Dunes, with more than a few shrew clans, they shared their nest with no one. This meant that they could always find some solitude within their den from the hubbub of the Glade’s activity. It also meant, however, that the responsibility for gathering food for their family fell solely on the children’s father, Morley McClutter.
Morley had been out in the Glade for a while when Marlie, his mate, decided to take young Nutter out for a brief stroll. Having crawled up through the small hole together, the pair started for the opening in the log that covered their den’s entrance. They took only a few steps, however, before encountering a most unexpected visitor.
Her name was Pertie Preedleton. She was a young mother from within the Knoll, and she looked noticeably anxious. As Marlie neared, Pertie burst into tears, “Have you heard, Marlie? Oh, something terrible, just terrible, has happened in the Glade!”
Marlie McClutter rarely got excited, and tonight was no exception. She asked direct questions, but her tone was soft, controlled, and kind. “What are you talking about, Pertie? What’s happened?”
Pertie gasped, and then like a tiny machine gun, she spewed out a series of potentially harmful shots. “Shrews! Slitherer! Beast! Fight! Glade!”
She would have likely rambled on much longer had Marlie not interrupted. “So, let me get this straight, Pert,” began the older and wiser Marlie in an effort to sort through the facts. “You’re saying there was a fight?”
A nod.
“And that there were some shrews involved?”
Another nod.
“The fight involved a slitherer?”
As Pertie’s head began bobbing up and down frantically, Marlie spoke curtly. “Pertie, dear, pull yourself together. You know there are no such things in the Glade!”
Marlie knew that many years ago the winged Ruach had been sent to protect the Glade from predators like snakes. There were no such creatures from the great Woode in the Glade. Pertie must have gotten her story wrong.
“But … but,” began Pertie, “… but there was a slitherer and he tried to—”
“Pertie, come now. You’ve had a long day, I’m sure. Trying to care for a full litter is quite a job,” said Mama McClutter. “I know, sweetie, I’ve done it many times. Now, come down to our den for a bit and have a rest.” Marlie knew that raising children was a very tiring calling. Young babies feed often, making sleep rather elusive for the attentive mother.
Once below ground, Marlie led Pertie over to a soft patch of grass that had been strewn in one corner of the roomy nest. Pertie sighed as she closed her eyes and settled in. Marlie, meanwhile, stepped away to give the young mother some space, and to digest Pertie’s ramblings from afar.
Nutter, meanwhile, had not heard all that Pertie said but she had understood enough to be worried. Moving over to be with her mama, she nestled in next to her and asked, “Whenth Papa comin’ home?”
“Soon, dear. Your father’s just gathering some food. He’ll be back soon.” Marlie’s words were an attempt to reassure herself as much as her daughter. She directed her attention back to the weary young mother now lying across from her. “Pertie, are your babies sleeping now?”
The tired shrew nodded, adding breathlessly, “Finally …”
“Well, then, why don’t you just sit here for a little while and rest? Afterward, we’ll walk back down to your nest and sit with you until your Patter comes home.” Marlie McClutter had a reputation for being one of the most compassionate and loving shrews in the whole Glade. Pertie’s story might be a wild one, but Marlie wouldn’t turn her out because of it.
After a while, Papa McClutter came bounding down through the narrow opening, his mouth full of larvae, the first of many evening meals for his family. The instant he caught sight of the resting neighbor he quietly dropped the food and then stepped over to Marlie. “Is she okay?” he whispered.
“I think she’s just exhausted,” replied Marlie in the same hushed tone. “She’s got five now, ya know.”
The two older parents gazed at Pertie for a second or two, reflecting on the days of big litters in their den. But the momentary reverie didn’t last long. “Papa!” yelped Nutter, who’d momentarily dozed off. Her father’s voice had stirred her. Hurrying over, she nestled in close, allowing her father to rub his snout on her back.
“Wow, what’s all this for?” chuckled Morley.
Nutter looked up, “Pertie thaid that there wath a big slitherer in the Glade, Papa, and that it attacked thome threws. I wath afraid that—”
“Oh, I’m fine, baby girl!” said Morley, knowing where his daughter was headed. “No slitherer’s gonna get your old Papa now,” he added while glancing at Marlie. The worry in her eyes suggested that they presently shared the same thought: where’s Thutter?
They wouldn’t talk about such things now, though, as they didn’t want to worry Nutter any more than necessary. Instead, Papa led his youngest offspring over to the larvae so she could dig into the first of her nightly feedings. At the same time, Marlie moved over to where Pertie lay. It was time to see her back to her own nest. Though Pertie’s young ones were most likely still sleeping, Mama McClutter knew that they would wake soon and need their mother.
“We’ll talk when I get back?” whispered Marlie in her mate’s direction as she helped Pertie toward the nest’s opening.
Morley nodded and then watched his wife turn and disappear behind the tired young mother as they both made their way up to the log and out into the Glade. He then sat quietly with Nutter, digesting some sweet, juicy larvae and wondering why in the world a slitherer had dared to enter the Glade.