Forest World (18 page)

“That's not so!” Debina defended Tambo hotly. “If it were, the whole forest wouldn't pay him such respect!”

“Respect? They all fear him for his strength. Fear! That's all!” The magpie whirred off.

The day inched onward. The rays of the sun shimmered singly through the foliage roof into the twilit covert. Debina was tired. She slept with the fawn pressed tightly to her. The little one too sank into a deep baby sleep.

Debina awakened when the moon hung full in the sky.

“Get up, little Tambo,” she roused the fawn. “Let's go out.”

Slowly she led and slowly he followed on wobbly legs. She slipped through the brush, holding the way open for the little one. It was some time before the path became wider and the thicket vanished except for a few bushes. At length they arrived at a clump of young trees.

A few roes who were grazing about jerked their heads up and fled at sight of the hind.
“Ba-uh!”
they cried.
“Ba-uh!”
over and over again.
“Ba-uh!”

Little Tambo hung back. “Mother, what's that?” his wee voice piped, thrilling Debina.

“Our relatives, darling.”

“Why did they run away, mother?”

“We deer would be glad to know that ourselves, my child.”

From a distance came:
“Ba-uh! Ba-uh!”

“Mother, why do they cry so loud?”

“Because they're frightened, precious.”

“Why are they frightened?”

“Because they saw us so suddenly.”

“Are we ugly, mother?”

“No, we're very beautiful. You especially, my dear.”

“Then why, mother?”

“They think we're dangerous. They're afraid of us.”

“But why are they afraid of us? Do we hurt them?”

“We don't hurt anyone, child.”

“But then why—?”

“I don't know, darling. No deer understands it. But it cannot be changed.”

“Why?”

“I can't explain it, son.”

“Mother—”

“Yes?”

“Are they all afraid of us—
all
of them?”

“No, only some, here and there.”

“Who, mother?”

“Who what, darling?”

“Who is afraid of—of who?”

“Sometimes a hare or a pheasant is frightened of us if we take them unawares.”

“What's a hare?”

“Look around! You'll see them yourself. Just keep your eyes open.”

They came to the edge of the wood. A meadow stretched away before them.

“Oh, I want to go there!” cried the little fawn.

“No, no!” His mother blocked his way. “First I must make sure no danger threatens.”

“What's danger, mother?”

“Something that may hurt you. There are many
kinds of danger. We must be very cautious! Remember, my child, as long as you're with me you may never—understand now!—never go out into open space before I do. You must always wait until I say you may.”

Debina then sniffed very carefully, found the air clear and stepped out. Behind her, obediently, came little Tambo.

By now he had a firmer step and as he came into the meadow he took his first leap.

“Good for you, son!” his mother praised him.

Some roes grazing in the meadow scattered. From all sides sounded their frightened cry.
“Ba-uh! Ba-uh!”

Little Tambo laughed. “Now I know what that is!”

A hare sat up before him, both ears erect. Little Tambo jumped back to stare at the small fellow who said, “It's only I, my lad. Your friend the hare.”

Quickly little Tambo responded, “Greetings, friend hare!”

“A handsome child you have, Debina,” the hare said respectfully. “Good manners, too!”

A few other hares ran to join them. “What a beautiful prince,” they said. “He
has dignity already. Debina, our congratulations!”

Mother and son continued their way happily. Soon they had crossed the meadow. “The hares are nice,” little Tambo piped.

He stayed behind his mother as she entered the thicket where high trees obscured the moonlight.

“Greetings!” called the gray owl. “A charming child you have there, Debina.”

“I'm glad you like my son,” said Debina. She was never tired of compliments for him, never tired of acknowledging them.

Little Tambo looked up toward the owl admiringly. This bird with feathered ears and shining eyes fascinated him. Timidly he ventured another “Greetings.”

The owl hooted, “Greetings, young prince.” She turned to Debina. “Your son is polite. I approve of him!” She spread her wings and floated away. “Till we meet again!” she called back.

Little Tambo stared after her. “Mother,” he asked, “she looks wise. Is she?”

“She's very wise,” Debina said. “No one in all the forest has such wisdom as the owl.”

“Owl,” repeated the fawn. “Owl . . . owl . . . that's a funny name.”

“Yes,” Debina answered absently. “No! No, of course it isn't! It's a very fine name. And you should be proud that she praised you so highly!”

They wandered deeper into the forest. Little Tambo laughed and frolicked. Debina was elated by the ovation given her child.

A sharp evil scent suddenly filled her nose. She stopped and called, “Come close to me, little Tambo!” She knew that smell. The fox!

Little Tambo too caught the bad odor and ran to his mother, his thin legs trembling.

“Greetings, Debina,” barked the fox softly. “Don't be afraid.”

“I'm not afraid of you, Red,” Debina told him haughtily. Then she added, “Greetings.”

“So you greet me again.” The fox leered. “I've never forgotten that you did so once before. And I never will.”

“What do you want of me now?” Debina preserved her haughtiness.

“Nothing. Except to wish you luck with your delightful child.”

“Many thanks, Red.”

“You don't call me robber or murderer anymore.”

“No, not anymore.”

“You
are
nice, Debina.”

“Never mind that, Red.”

Wishful drops dribbled from the fox's jaws. “Your son is appetizing. He'd be a fine meal for me. But be calm, I'll spare him.”

“I'm calm because you can't do anything to him! Not even if you wanted to!”

“So
you
think. I'm very hungry, Debina.” The saliva fairly dripped from his fangs. “So far I have only mice in my stomach.”

“Go, Red! Fetch yourself five or six more mice.”

He burst out, “I'd attack anybody else. But not you or yours!”

“You're right. I'd kill you without mercy.”

“Perhaps it would be an interesting struggle!” the fox said slyly.

“Be off now, Red, quickly.” Debina was breathing hard. “We have nothing more to say to each other. Farewell!”

Slinking off, he said over his shoulder, “Thank you for the greeting and farewell.” And as if removing himself from temptation, he loped away.

Little Tambo stood quaking. “That's ‘danger'—isn't it, mother?”

“Yes, my child, one of our many dangers. But grow big and strong and there's hardly any danger you'll ever need to fear.”

Putting aside all worry, Debina delighted in little Tambo, in his growing agility and queer clumsy grace, in the obedience he showed despite his lively temperament.

A few strong stags passed her and her son, who looked at these apparitions in wonder. While the high-crowned Kings nodded in friendly fashion to the little one, Debina felt a certain premonition.

Now King Tambo stepped along, overpowering with the size and splendor of his crown.

Debina halted, waiting, breathless. Would he address her? Would he greet his son? For a moment she hoped so and felt inclined to permit his advances as the beginning of new friendship—an enduring companionship.

The majestic figure came closer, very close.

Debina stepped into his path as if by accident, and stopped, pretending to be surprised. Tambo could not help but see her and the little one. Yet he did not give her a single glance! He looked neither at her nor at his son. Like a complete stranger he passed them by, regal, indifferent, unapproachable.

Debina felt cold and suddenly hostile. The magpie's words spoke in her.
Strutting coxcomb!
 . . .

“Come!” she bade the youngster, who was staring fascinated after Tambo. She would not say to her fawn, “That is your father.”

She had her son . . . at least she had her son. He was all that mattered now.
He
would not, must not, could not disappoint her. . . .

D
EEP DARKNESS PREVAILED. NO moon stood in the heavens and the stars were invisible behind the clouds. Yet the fox was still seeking prey.

Mad hunger plagued him. For he had made not a single catch; not a rabbit, not even a mouse. His hunger had grown to violent cramps which drove the unsuccessful robber to desperation.

A hare rose suddenly before him and fled. Filled with hatred the fox stared after him, but did not feel
strong enough to catch up with the fugitive, or even to ambush him by a short cut.

Then a mouse came into his path, and he crushed it and swallowed it with lightning speed. Yet the tiny bite only made his pangs the sharper. Hoarse barking ripped from his throat.

“Am I so clumsy? Am I too dumb to satisfy my appetite? Or am I having extra bad luck? I missed the pheasants too.”

Longingly he looked up into the trees. He could see dark motionless clumps—pheasants asleep, each with his head tucked under a wing.

What a delicious feast, a pheasant like that! The fox's mouth watered. “I wish I knew how to climb. Then I'd be full in a trice.”

Dreamily he dragged himself farther along. At last he sat on his haunches to rest, dull, tired, starving.

Up in a treetop, suddenly, he heard a short choking cluck and the panicky beating of wings. Electrified, the fox leaped to the tree. His every nerve vibrated with newly awakened strength; he was ready for battle. Just
let whoever was killing that pheasant bring it down to the ground and he'd never enjoy his booty! The fox would see to that!

He felt so strong through his bitter need that he was sure he could conquer even the fiercest enemy. Yes, if he could kill this lucky pheasant-catcher, instead of just putting him to flight, he'd have a double meal! His fasting would be over for a long time!

The throttled squawks and the wild flapping in the tree had grown feeble. Feverishly the fox lurked about to see if the invisible robber would come down. It would be terrible if he were to do all his feasting up in the tree! But no, that was never done right on the scene, the fox knew. If only a few paces away, a quiet place must be found. At night, only the owl gobbled her food in the trees. And in the daytime, the hawk. However, the owl never attacked pheasants, and at night the hawk was sleeping. So this killer couldn't be one of those.

Tense, ever more confident, more insane with greed and the desire to fight, the fox waited. It was no more than a few moments, but it seemed to him an eternity.

In the branches, a new rustling sounded. Slowly someone climbed down, very slowly, with the dead pheasant, a heavy load. Now the invisible robber stopped on a branch to rest.

Impatiently the fox panted with hanging tongue.

A thud!
The pheasant fell to the ground.

Had it slipped from the stranger's grasp or had he thrown it down? No matter! Like lightning the fox leaped to seize the fallen prey.

And as quickly Shah the Persian tomcat landed on the ground and rushed for his booty.

The fox snarled, baring his teeth. He had never seen the tomcat before, did not know his kind, and sized him up for a weakling. “He won't fight,” he told himself, “and if he does, I'll settle him in no time!”

Bravely, however, with angry hissing, the tomcat showed himself ready to attack. Against his natural enemy, here in the forest, the gentle pet of the barnyard became a thing of fury.

“Give me my prey!” he demanded fiercely. “Give me my property, you red ruffian!”

“Nothing here is your property,” rumbled the fox. “Who
are
you, anyway?”

“I'll show you who I am, you highjacker!” the tomcat yowled in rage.

“You don't live in the forest!” yapped the fox. “You've got no right here!” He crouched to attack.

The tomcat hit at his eyes with quick sharp claws.

Caught by surprise, the fox jerked back just in time. The claws had cut him on the forehead, had almost cost him an eye. It wasn't so simple as he thought to deal with this enemy!

The big teeth in the fox's long jaw planted respect in Shah too.

Growling and snarling, they crouched opposite each other, both taking stock. It was the Persian again who reached the first conclusion.

He sprang on the fox's back, and delivered a drumfire of blows against the red robber's head and eyes. The fox threw himself backward, his eyelids tightly closed; he rid himself of the attacker and snapped at him wildly. He reached for Shah's throat, grimly trying
to bite it through. But the nimble tomcat knew how to avoid him and his fangs. Suddenly the fox caught the Persian's ear. His teeth held tight, tearing. The tomcat gave a howl of pain and wrenched loose.