Chapter 4:
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"Stop chewing on your mouth young man."
The offender harrumphed, before continuing in his games.
With the road firmly behind them, the family had begun to make great progress forward, that evening they had managed to make it deep into the forest and set up camp at the base of the mountains and sleep soundlessly, gathering their strength for the final push up the rocky mountain face before reaching the valley.
Cynthia had her skinned knee bandaged to prevent likely infection, though she seemed completely unaffected by yesterday's events as she chased after her siblings in a game of tag, all the while making progress up the mountain with their mother close by.
Mrs. Brisby remained on the sidelines however, maintaining a vigilant eye and ear to her surroundings, while her thoughts were occupied of another matter. She had been shaken awake by her children again, saying she had been—quite literally—kicking and screaming in her sleep, though upon waking, she couldn't remember what she had been dreaming about.
It had been bothering her how often these dreams had been happening, but the baffling fact was not being able to remember such obvious and vivid night-terrors. She would wake fearing for her life and in a full panic, but not know why she was.
She spotted the offender stopping for a moment in his game to contort his face in a peculiar fashion, but she had known why he had stopped.
"Timothy Brisby, stop chewing on your mouth or you will get awful sores."
Timothy huffed again, rejoining in the jubilation.
Mrs. Brisby scaled a rock face, stopping at its precipice to survey her surroundings better. Below the children played in a small clearing, the scene caused Mrs. Brisby to smile, but also caused a pang of sadness. It wouldn't be much longer before they were ready to go out into the world without their mother's ever- watchful eye, to start families of their own.
She hoped it could be possible to see her grand-children, no matter how small the chance of her living long enough to see them would be.
Mrs. Brisby stopped her rather morbid thought train, and took a deep breath of the thick forest air. The last time she had been in the forest was earlier in the year, when she had been looking for answers to save Timothy from the plow from the Great Owl, and even then it was a very small and brief section of the forest she had flown over; she was more focused on surviving the encounter with the Great Owl, and Jeremy's unnecessary aerial acrobatics as they flew over most of it.
It had also been too early in the year for leaves or flowers to grow yet; the forest looked uninviting and dead that early in the spring. But now, in the last throes of summer, the forest was now alive with colors and the sounds of birds high in the canopy, trees were vibrant green and the smell of pines was sweet with the breeze. If she looked carefully enough above she could spot a squirrel racing through the branches, already gathering for the long winter months.
It was a pleasant change from her usual scents of the farm, where smells of freshly harvested crops, sowed dirt and farm machinery were a norm. Every breath was full of dew, and broad leafed trees shedding their leaves before all the others. For the first time since the trip had started, she wasn't nervous about being in an unknown area or being away from home, she was relaxed.
Until the sounds of something large crashing through the woods caught her attention and destroyed her tranquility.
She stood rigid as stone, ears erect and listening intently. Even the children heard the sound over their rough-housing, and stopped to listen.
"What was that—"
Mrs. Brisby sternly held a finger towards Timothy, motioning to remain silent as she scanned the forest floor for signs of danger. The whiskers upon her furiously sniffing muzzle caught the sun, showing whispers of strands dancing with no connection to her in the air.
The crashing continued to disrupt the peace within the forest; it had seemed the whole forest itself had frozen stone-still, disturbed within its quiet sanctum. The sounds of leaves shuffling and branches snapped edged ever closer to Mrs. Brisby and her children's location, and then seemed to circumvent their location.
Without physically seeing it, but aware of its location thanks to specially attuned other senses, Mrs. Brisby tracked its position as it ran passed them and crashed deeper into the woods and down the mountain side. Before completely falling out of hearing distance, Mrs. Brisby spotted a white flash between the thick of trees and something snort a reprieve.
"Well I'll be…" Mrs. Brisby whispered, finding her heart calm. "A deer."
"That was a deer?" Someone below whispered. "Cool, you don't see many of those on the farm!"
"What do you suppose spooked it?" Martin called up to his mother.
"I'm not sure." Mrs. Brisby breathed. "But we should be careful too; deer can sense danger a lot better than we can. We should be cautious as we make our way farther."
Below, four heads nodded in unison in agreement. "Well, I guess we should keep going before it gets too dark." Martin shrugged, setting the family into motion; play-time had come to an end, it was now time to continue onwards.
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"I spy, with my little eye…" Timothy mumbled, tapping his chin in thought as he glanced around for something different to spy.
"Ugh, give it a rest Tim, we've playing this game for hours and spied everything around us!" Theresa groaned.
"Give me a minute." Timothy waved his sister's chastising remark away like an insect. "I'll find something out here…" Timothy continued in his game, glancing high towards the clouding sky and low for something to spy, while Theresa sighed loudly.
Hoping to break the uneasy silence, Cynthia spoke up since the incident on the road. "So, it looks like we have one more day left until we get to Thorn Valley huh?" She said, scratching restlessly at the bandage on her leg.
"According to what Justin told me just before he left, around two days." Mrs. Brisby recollected. "And we've been traveling for one day already, so yes Cynthia, we should have one more night out in the wilderness then we will be within sight of the colony."
"Another full day?!" Martin groaned. "I'm not too crazy about sleeping out in the sticks again, personally."
"You'll be fine Martin, it's only going to be for one more day, and then we will be in the colony and welcomed with open arms. I'm sure they will let us have some food and beds." Mrs. Brisby assured, suppressing a small grin seeing her eldest groan loudly again.
"What's the matter Marty can't stand another day of walking, or not having a feather stuffed bed?" Timothy snickered.
Martin shot a deathly glare at his brother, before scoffing loudly and jamming his thumb in his puffed out chest. "Please, I could walk for days no problem!" He bragged proudly. "I'm just saying, if we push ourselves just a little bit, we could probably get there before nightfall tomorrow."
"Alright, I'll take those odds." Timothy smirked, standing tall and proud in front of Martin. Timothy however, only reached Martin's chin in height, but still met his eyes and held out his hand to shake. "We make it to the rats before tomorrow night, or you have to wear a big girly ribbon for the next day!"
"Not mine!" Cynthia interjected.
With marked hesitation, Martin bit his lip before firmly grasping Timothy's outstretched hand, and shaking. To the watchful eye, Martin could be seen suppressing a nervous gulp. "Y-you're on!"
"Now now you two, let's not too carried away and use up all our strength before-hand." Mrs. Brisby cautioned. "We rest for the night, and then we can start bright and early for your little wager, deal?"
"Deal!" Martin almost shouted, before clearing his throat and casually crossing his arms while leaning back on his tail. "Uh, I mean, alright ma, if you say so."
"Wow, we all agreed on something." Theresa whispered to Cynthia.
"It's about time too." Cynthia added. "My feet are tired and I'm hungry!" She complained while rubbing her eyes with the back of her hands.
"It looks like it's starting to rain too." Theresa observed, feeling stray drops of water patter the top of her fur-covered head. Quickly the muted pattering of rain began to build in volume and density, the torrent easily passing through the thinning forest canopy and soaking the fallen leaves of the forest floor.
This high up the mountainside, the family had little cover from the rain; trees had begun to grow sparse, and bare rock was becoming more and more common sights. They had little cover as a flash of light and the crack of a thunderous whip rattled them into action. In the failing light and darkening sky, Mrs. Brisby was the first to notice a suitable chasm under a sizeable rock and made a break for it, her children in tow.
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The rain never relent its feverish downpour as the family started a small fire and hunkered around it, keeping dry until morning would bring hopeful clear skies. The small fire crackled and popped as it struggled to burn the damp tinder Martin and Timothy could gather on such short notice.
"Well, looks like we won't be going anywhere tonight." Martin said. He held his hand out from under the rock into the cascading waterfall that formed a curtain around them. "It's raining cats and dogs out there." He muttered.
Another rumble of thunder could be heard in the distance as Timothy poked around in a small soggy supply pack that had survived the ordeal on the road. "Well that's great." Timothy grumbled. "Everything in here is soggy; look at this bread!" He said pulling out what looked like a ball of mush. "The only things that aren't completely ruined are these corn kernels."
"Aw man." The rest of the children grumbled in defeat.
"Now I'm tired, sore and hungry!" Cynthia complained.
"Wait a second." Martin spoke up, his eyes going wide and ears perked. "Tim, let me see one of those kernels." Without any rebuke, Timothy obeyed and fished out one soggy kernel. Martin grabbed it from his little brother's hand, fetched a thin, pointy stick and skewered the kernel.
"What are you doing—"Timothy quizzically asked. Despite receiving nothing but silence as a reply, he continued to watch Martin check to make sure the kernel was secure before holding it over the fire and smirk.
"Just watch. Cynthia, you should check this out too." Martin said.
"Oh I know what you're up to Martin…" Theresa slyly muttered.
Martin shushed his older sister. "Don't spoil it!"
At this point, Cynthia and Tim were both enamored by the soggy kernel poised above the fire, Martin slowly spinning the stick it was on to evenly distribute the heat. Mrs. Brisby watched on, knowing full well what Martin was doing but remained quiet; a soft smile ever growing as the seconds ticked by.
"Bored now." Timothy grumbled, feeling his age, and patience, pass every second the kernel only sizzled.
"Just wait a few more seconds…" Martin assured, keeping his attention and focus solely on rotating the stick.
"Mom what's Martin doing?" Timothy whined to his mother.
"Patience dear." She answered softly. "Just wait and see."
"Theresa?" Turning to his last bastion of hope, Timothy literally pleading with his eyes as Theresa shook her head. "You heard mom, wait and see."
Timothy finally gave up with a huff, turning his sullen gaze back on the kernel just in time to see it noticeably vibrate.
"What the—"
Pop!
Cynthia, and Timothy, both jumped as their mother and two older siblings cheered at the fluffy white cloud captured on the stick. Martin quickly drew it from the fire, checked its temperature with a timid squeeze of his thumb and pointer, and broke a piece off and handing it to Timothy.
"It's called popcorn; try it!" He said while passing equal amounts to everyone else.
"Mother showed it to us when we were about your age." Theresa mentioned. "Good huh?"
"Kind of bland." Timothy mumbled between bites. "But besides that, pretty good!"
"Thanks for showing them mom!" Cynthia spoke.
"You're welcome." She said with a smile. Despite smiling, she couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness. She had learned of popcorn from their father, and she was now taking credit for it. If only he were here.
Before long the popcorn had been eaten, and yawns followed from the whole group. "Welp, it seems we're stuck here for the night." Theresa mused aloud.
"I'm alright with that." Martin added.
Timothy was too tired to add a snide remark, instead him and Cynthia leaned against each other; too tired to hold their eyelids or themselves up without assistance. Motioning with open arms, Mrs. Brisby guided the two exhausted youngsters to her sides, where they promptly got comfy and slipped into slumber. Theresa did the same, picking the side with Cynthia, Martin taking Timothy's side. "Good night, mother."
"Night mom."
"Good night, my children." Mrs. Brisby whispered, leaning against the warm rock wall and getting comfortable herself. Within minutes everyone was well on their way to the realm of dream, all except for Mrs. Brisby.
How will the rats react to our unannounced arrival? Will we be greeted with open arms, or shunned away? Did Justin's offer still stand? Thoughts like these raced through her mind, unable to calm to allow sleep. Idly she began running her claws through Timothy's hair; he stirred, but did not wake. Pretty soon she mused; her children would strike out and start families of their own in this world. She savored this moment of family togetherness, realizing it might just be the last time they would be this close. What better time to pick a family field trip than now, before it was too late?
Surrounded by her most prized possessions in the world, fatigue began to take over Mrs. Brisby, coupled with the pattering of rain and the slight snoring of Martin, it was inevitability. All her questions would soon be answered tomorrow. She slipped into a light, and restless, sleep.
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Quick Author Note: A filler chapter, or a simple character building chapter?
They do sometimes tread a thin, fine line, no?
Some action is on the way though, stick around!
The Guest Calypso
