Chapter 1
Tragil the ferret waited outside his tent. He picked grumpily at his neck while he did so, slapping here and there, and he cursed at all the rain. Everyone else in the tribe was all warm and comfy inside their tents! Yet, he was the only ferret who was expecting a child from his mate Mayfur. No males were allowed in the tent while females were tending the mother. Tragil spat into the mud. How long did it take to give birth? A wail cracked through the sound of rain. Great, Tragil thought, it's done with. Still Tragil didn't want to come in now that there was a babe. Nervous? Bah, I can't be nervous, he thought. Then again, it was a new babe! His babe. Maybe a son to hunt for him. A son to take care of his old daddy. Yes, that sounded good. Tragil cleared his throat in the rain and called into the tent.
"Mayfur? Kroop? Pyshanks? The babe be male or female?"
Kroop the old female rat poked her head partially out of the tent flap to answer. Kroop began shooing Tragil away.
"It's a wailin' female sir, best ye stay out 'eres 'cause ye'd get deafened in 'eres!"
Tragil kicked at a mud clod, painfully learning that it wasn't a clod but a rock, and he spat again into the mud as he rubbed his footpaw. No son. Just a daughter. What good was that? Hours out in the rain and he got a daughter? Tragil angrily stomped into the tent and smashed Pyshank's tail in the process.
"Yowowch! Wos yer problem yeh worm?"
"None o' yer business wench," Tragil snarled.
The new father looked over the grass weaved basket at a little sniffling ferretbabe. He snorted. The female babe looked up at her father with wide eyes filled with wonder. His face softened.
"Aww, ain't tha' a purty lil tyke," he cooed gruffly, "'Ello there, I'm ye father!"
He bent down and was about to attempt to tickle his newborn daughter until the ferretbabe, seeing something nasty looking was about to touch her, bit his finger and wailed uproarously. Tragil fell back from the noise nursing his finger and his ear.
"Yaaah! The lil worm, shut it up!"
Stifling laughter Kroop rocked the cradle slowly and the wailing stopped. Tragil rubbed his ears.
"Hah hah! Ye hear tha'? The babe cried when he told 'er he was 'er daddy!"
Pyshanks slapped her thigh and laughed. Tragil bopped the old stoat on the head to make her quiet. Mayfur opened one eye to look at the scene.
"Quiet down, I'm tryin' to get me sleep 'ere. I'm tired from birthin'," Mayfur said.
Pyshanks and Kroop continued tending to the babe and the mother while Tragil crawled into his sleeping mat and blanket. He rolled his back to the rest of them muttering to himself.
"I'll get rid o' tha' stupid offspring o' yers Mayfur."
It was early in the morning when Tragil awoke to hear the babe frettfully sleeping. He got up quietly and slowly so as if not to awaken them all. He took out his knife to cut the babe's throat. The blade hovered over the babe's throat. His hand quaked slightly as he looked at the sleeping bundle. Tragil may have been vermin, but he had his limits. He felt angry again at himself for not having the heart to kill a measly babe. He thought for a while as he sheathed his knife. Then an idea hit him. Tragil picked up the cradle carefully and nimbly snuck out of the tent. He walked for a long time until he reached the river thinking proudly at himself. He would just set the babe into the river and let it float away or sink. It wouldn't be his fault the babe wasn't an otter. Hah hah! Tragil lightly dropped the cradle into the river letting it be taken away by the current. Tragil followed for a short distance along the babe before stopping to wave.
"G'bye yeh stinkin' babby! Daddy and mummy'll miss yer. Say hi to the fishes fer me!"
Tragil walked away. The ferretbabe didn't stir as she was taken down the river by the currents.
Being a stolen otter crafted cradle, it was well made with all the grass woven tight, and it floated too. The cradle bobbed up and down and to the sleeping ferretbabe, the movements of the current made it seem like someone was rocking the cradle. In the middle of the day was when the cradle struck an out hanging broken branch. The ferretbabe wailed immediately. Now awake, she felt hungry and much too warm. The babe cried so loud that a nearby family of squirrels heard her. They had been picnicking in the meadow nearby, and indeed, the noise was deafening. Twigg, the youngest daughter, decided that it was a baby crying.
"Mum! Mum! I don't tink that's a toad being squashed by a log! I tinks it a likkle babe!"
The father squirrel unplugged his ears and the rest of the squirrel family followed. They all looked in the direction of the screaming. Twigg ran to the sound. The mother squirrel Peachrose made a movement as if to stop her little daughter.
"Twigg wait! What if it's an eagle to tear thee to pieces?"
"Oh! Mum, Dad, Rooty! It is a likkle babby! Inna river! Oh 'elp! Migh' be drownded soooon!"
The father Beechfarl rushed into the scene. Peachrose screamed and Rooty gasped. The log looked as if to bob up letting the cradle in. The log could pound the exposed babe into the rushing deep water! Beechfarl climbed onto the broken tree limb carefully, but he had to get off slowly holding it down. He was too heavy. He beckoned to his son Rooty. Rooty immediately rushed to the broken tree branch. Rooty crawled nimbly to the baby's cradle. The cradle was too big for Rooty to pick up, and if not he could fall into the river with the babe. Rooty took the cradle's handle and began pulling it backwards as he crawled to his father. With one final tug at the base of the tree he fell back onto the grass with the cradle safely at his side. Twiggs cheered happily.
"Oh Rooty thee saved the likkle babby!"
"I'm proud of thee son," Peachrose commented while teasing away the babe's blankets.
Everyone crowded in to see what kind of a babe it was. Twigg wrinkled her nose at the unveiling. Rooty remained silent. Beechfarl scratched his head.
"It's a ferretbabe, a vermin must've thrown his child out into the river."
"Oh how cruel vermin are!"
Peachrose began rubbing the little ferretbabe's paws. The babe stopped crying and began whimpering. The ferretbabe was hungry. Peachrose immediately felt her maternal instincts rise and picked up the babe into her arms. Twigg, being so young, had never exactly hated anything at all and was too young to understand about vermin. Twigg tweaked the ferretbabe's paw.
"Aww, she's a luverly likkle feller. Can we keep 'er?"
Beechfarl and Peachrose exchanged looks with each other. Peachrose, being a mother and all stared firmly at Beechfarl. She stubbornly was rocking the babe with a coy smile. Beechfarl frustratingly was stared down and began walking off. Peachrose grinned now. She chuckled at the thought of her softhearted husband refusing to take in an abanndoned babe. Vermin child or no.
"Come along," Peachrose called to her children, "We've got to take your new sister home."
Twiggs was overjoyed.
"We can keep 'er? Yaaay!"
Rooty began following his mother back home at her side looking at the little ferretbabe.
"Gee, I wonder why Dad didn't say nothin'!"
Tragil the ferret waited outside his tent. He picked grumpily at his neck while he did so, slapping here and there, and he cursed at all the rain. Everyone else in the tribe was all warm and comfy inside their tents! Yet, he was the only ferret who was expecting a child from his mate Mayfur. No males were allowed in the tent while females were tending the mother. Tragil spat into the mud. How long did it take to give birth? A wail cracked through the sound of rain. Great, Tragil thought, it's done with. Still Tragil didn't want to come in now that there was a babe. Nervous? Bah, I can't be nervous, he thought. Then again, it was a new babe! His babe. Maybe a son to hunt for him. A son to take care of his old daddy. Yes, that sounded good. Tragil cleared his throat in the rain and called into the tent.
"Mayfur? Kroop? Pyshanks? The babe be male or female?"
Kroop the old female rat poked her head partially out of the tent flap to answer. Kroop began shooing Tragil away.
"It's a wailin' female sir, best ye stay out 'eres 'cause ye'd get deafened in 'eres!"
Tragil kicked at a mud clod, painfully learning that it wasn't a clod but a rock, and he spat again into the mud as he rubbed his footpaw. No son. Just a daughter. What good was that? Hours out in the rain and he got a daughter? Tragil angrily stomped into the tent and smashed Pyshank's tail in the process.
"Yowowch! Wos yer problem yeh worm?"
"None o' yer business wench," Tragil snarled.
The new father looked over the grass weaved basket at a little sniffling ferretbabe. He snorted. The female babe looked up at her father with wide eyes filled with wonder. His face softened.
"Aww, ain't tha' a purty lil tyke," he cooed gruffly, "'Ello there, I'm ye father!"
He bent down and was about to attempt to tickle his newborn daughter until the ferretbabe, seeing something nasty looking was about to touch her, bit his finger and wailed uproarously. Tragil fell back from the noise nursing his finger and his ear.
"Yaaah! The lil worm, shut it up!"
Stifling laughter Kroop rocked the cradle slowly and the wailing stopped. Tragil rubbed his ears.
"Hah hah! Ye hear tha'? The babe cried when he told 'er he was 'er daddy!"
Pyshanks slapped her thigh and laughed. Tragil bopped the old stoat on the head to make her quiet. Mayfur opened one eye to look at the scene.
"Quiet down, I'm tryin' to get me sleep 'ere. I'm tired from birthin'," Mayfur said.
Pyshanks and Kroop continued tending to the babe and the mother while Tragil crawled into his sleeping mat and blanket. He rolled his back to the rest of them muttering to himself.
"I'll get rid o' tha' stupid offspring o' yers Mayfur."
It was early in the morning when Tragil awoke to hear the babe frettfully sleeping. He got up quietly and slowly so as if not to awaken them all. He took out his knife to cut the babe's throat. The blade hovered over the babe's throat. His hand quaked slightly as he looked at the sleeping bundle. Tragil may have been vermin, but he had his limits. He felt angry again at himself for not having the heart to kill a measly babe. He thought for a while as he sheathed his knife. Then an idea hit him. Tragil picked up the cradle carefully and nimbly snuck out of the tent. He walked for a long time until he reached the river thinking proudly at himself. He would just set the babe into the river and let it float away or sink. It wouldn't be his fault the babe wasn't an otter. Hah hah! Tragil lightly dropped the cradle into the river letting it be taken away by the current. Tragil followed for a short distance along the babe before stopping to wave.
"G'bye yeh stinkin' babby! Daddy and mummy'll miss yer. Say hi to the fishes fer me!"
Tragil walked away. The ferretbabe didn't stir as she was taken down the river by the currents.
Being a stolen otter crafted cradle, it was well made with all the grass woven tight, and it floated too. The cradle bobbed up and down and to the sleeping ferretbabe, the movements of the current made it seem like someone was rocking the cradle. In the middle of the day was when the cradle struck an out hanging broken branch. The ferretbabe wailed immediately. Now awake, she felt hungry and much too warm. The babe cried so loud that a nearby family of squirrels heard her. They had been picnicking in the meadow nearby, and indeed, the noise was deafening. Twigg, the youngest daughter, decided that it was a baby crying.
"Mum! Mum! I don't tink that's a toad being squashed by a log! I tinks it a likkle babe!"
The father squirrel unplugged his ears and the rest of the squirrel family followed. They all looked in the direction of the screaming. Twigg ran to the sound. The mother squirrel Peachrose made a movement as if to stop her little daughter.
"Twigg wait! What if it's an eagle to tear thee to pieces?"
"Oh! Mum, Dad, Rooty! It is a likkle babby! Inna river! Oh 'elp! Migh' be drownded soooon!"
The father Beechfarl rushed into the scene. Peachrose screamed and Rooty gasped. The log looked as if to bob up letting the cradle in. The log could pound the exposed babe into the rushing deep water! Beechfarl climbed onto the broken tree limb carefully, but he had to get off slowly holding it down. He was too heavy. He beckoned to his son Rooty. Rooty immediately rushed to the broken tree branch. Rooty crawled nimbly to the baby's cradle. The cradle was too big for Rooty to pick up, and if not he could fall into the river with the babe. Rooty took the cradle's handle and began pulling it backwards as he crawled to his father. With one final tug at the base of the tree he fell back onto the grass with the cradle safely at his side. Twiggs cheered happily.
"Oh Rooty thee saved the likkle babby!"
"I'm proud of thee son," Peachrose commented while teasing away the babe's blankets.
Everyone crowded in to see what kind of a babe it was. Twigg wrinkled her nose at the unveiling. Rooty remained silent. Beechfarl scratched his head.
"It's a ferretbabe, a vermin must've thrown his child out into the river."
"Oh how cruel vermin are!"
Peachrose began rubbing the little ferretbabe's paws. The babe stopped crying and began whimpering. The ferretbabe was hungry. Peachrose immediately felt her maternal instincts rise and picked up the babe into her arms. Twigg, being so young, had never exactly hated anything at all and was too young to understand about vermin. Twigg tweaked the ferretbabe's paw.
"Aww, she's a luverly likkle feller. Can we keep 'er?"
Beechfarl and Peachrose exchanged looks with each other. Peachrose, being a mother and all stared firmly at Beechfarl. She stubbornly was rocking the babe with a coy smile. Beechfarl frustratingly was stared down and began walking off. Peachrose grinned now. She chuckled at the thought of her softhearted husband refusing to take in an abanndoned babe. Vermin child or no.
"Come along," Peachrose called to her children, "We've got to take your new sister home."
Twiggs was overjoyed.
"We can keep 'er? Yaaay!"
Rooty began following his mother back home at her side looking at the little ferretbabe.
"Gee, I wonder why Dad didn't say nothin'!"