It was a warm and sunny morn in Mossflower Woods, and three beasts, two moles and a squirrel, were out on their daily stroll. One of the moles, a male named Spadle, sniffed in the cool spring air.

"Sure is better'n any wuther oi've ever seen afore. Cool breezes, warm sunloight, an' green as fur as ee oi c'n see." he said.

"Oi, sure 'tis. Reminds me of moi bumbly days as ee molerbabe." replied his wife, the female mole named Clovia. Her companion, a female squirrel named Tiff, nodded briskly.

"Ain't no place I'd rather live in than Mossflower Wood. 'Tis a special place, just for beasts like us."

"Howsabout we'm go over thataway, durlin'?" Clovia asked he husband Spadle, pointing toward the left with a digging claw.

"But we'm never go that way, Clovia. We'm always have gone to thurr roight." he replied.

"But ye never do know, moi dear. Fur alls we know, thurr could be uther folk loik ussuns down thurr. They could be molers!"

Spadle tugged on his shirtsleeve. "Urrm, Tiff! Where do ee think we'm should go?"

The squirrel looked both ways. "My paws are gettin' used to that ground we usually walk. I say we go left, afore my legs fall asleep on that trail."

Spadle, always willing to accept defeat, grunted and walked on with the others.

On their way, the three entered a rather large sunny clearing. Clovia pointed to a hill. "Let's lay down over thurr. Ee sun'll shoine down on urr heads."

Tiff nodded. "It'll do me paws good t' get some rest. Ain't nothin' better'n a good nap. My paws ain't what they used t' be."

Spadle laughed heartily. "You'm been sayin' that fur twenny seasons!"

Tiff turned to him. "Aye, an' my tired ole paws haven't been what they used t' be fer twenny seasons!"

At this, they all laughed. Clovia wiped her eyes with a handkerchief. After laying down, they all closed their eyes and breathed in the cool spring air. Tiff got up.

"Blast it, can't get comfortable with th' sun in my eyes. I'm goner go over t' that tree and lay there." and with that, she went over to lie beneath a birch tree.

They all relaxed in silence, until it was broken by a light squeaky sound.

"Is 'at you'm, Tiff?" Spadle asked.

Tiff sat up, grunting. "I 'aven't made no noise like that 'un since me days wi' me wet nurse. Wasn't me."

Clovia got up. "Sounds like 'ee h'infant."

Spadle listened again. "Seems t' me it's comin' from ee roight. Cummon, Tiff, we'm better foind 'ee babe."

After a while of looking, the three entered another clearing, and the sound was much louder. Clovia's motherly instincts led her to a hill. Spadle was definitely confused.

"Clovia, what're 'ee doin'? We'm already laid 'ee down!"

Tiff sighed. "C'mon, Spadle! Don't ye know anythin' about mothers?! They know these things!"

Clovia was standing atop the small hill, breathing slowly. Spadle and Tiff caught up to her, and they soon saw what she was looking at.

It was a badgerbabe, larger than most, with ash-gray fur, and thick white stripe on her face and muzzle. It was obviously a female. She had dark, lustrous eyes like stones darkened and smoothed by a river. They focused directly on Clovia.

The molewife stepped forward and scooped up the babe in her paws. It was evidently heavier than expected, as she grunted picking it up.

"She'm one of 'ee sablur creeturs. Feel 'er pelt."

Spadle stepped forward, patting the babe's head. "'Ee fur's loike moler."

Tiff nodded. She's got sable fur. I think that's what we should call her, Sable. What do ye think o' that, Clovia?"

Clovia nodded, wrapping the babe in a cloth she had in her dress pocket. "Sabler. Oi like 'at name."