Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The loud repetitive noise had now stopped; the only sounds now were the distinctive crackling of burning wood, the gentle popping noise of bubbling tree-sap, her own hollow footsteps and the comforting rhythmic sliding sound made by the sledge. 

The walk up the corridor came to an end, and she realised that it opened out into a large circular room, like an underground dome.  In the middle was a mountain of rubbish, but at that moment she didn’t care; a lovely fire crackled calmly along one of the walls, and it wasn’t until the warmth wrapped around her like a blanket that she realised just how cold she was.  She sat down cross-legged in front of the fire on a heap of jumbled rugs and leaned towards the heat, mittened hands outstretched. It felt so nice! Of course, it would be better if she was at home with mommy, her teddies, a blanket around her, cake and a nice cup of bubble tea, but here would have to do for now . . . wherever ‘here’ was. 

With that thought, she realised she should probably try to put her mind to working out where she was.  Looking through wisps of her own hair over her shoulder, she took in just how massive the pile of junk was; it almost filled the room, except for the little pathways that were clear of clutter which snaked through it like the raspberry ripples in vanilla ice cream (yep, I was fancying some ice cream at the time). 

To one side, she could see an old tattered arm chair; the back of it was facing her. She was beginning to feel a bit sleepy, but came to the conclusion that this place was some form of rubbish tip, and the fact that there was a well-kept fire and little paths suggested people came here every often, so someone would be along soon to show her how to get out (. . . what? I did warn you that Lyla-Mae was one clever little girl). Of course, she didn’t like this idea much at all, at having to be rescued.  Oh yes, she takes after her mommy far too much at times.

Realising that there was not much to do but wait until someone visited the underground scrapyard, she thought she may as well get some rest in front of this cosy fire.  So there she sat with her toys, adjusting Teddy Radson’s jacket so he looked his usual elegant self, and having a comforting crinkle of Esther’s ears. 

So pre-occupied was she in exploring the room, she almost forgot that a pile of blankets was right next to her.  It would be nice to wrap one around her, she thought, and so pulled at the sticking out corner of a pink and blue polka-dot blanket in the middle of the pile.  She grabbed it and pulled, and heaved, and put all her might into it, but it didn’t budge at all.  With a sleepy sigh, she decided to just settle on the blanket on the top.  She reached out with her little hands once more . . . but it wasn’t a blanket she pulled at, and everything happened all of a sudden.

Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Millie the fox was having a lovely dream by the fire.  She dreamt that she could fly – no; she could fly - and was soaring above all the streams and fields and forests and hills and villages.  She could see rabbits and squirrels far below, looking at her in wonder as she floated by the clouds, and she enjoyed the look on the flying pigeons faces as she glided into the middle and waved one red-and-white paw at them, and laughed as she speeded off.  She would swoop and dive, and then soar once more, as high as she could go before getting dizzy, and then she– she woke up suddenly at someone touching her!

Wide awake now, she looked dead ahead. It was a human . . . and some furry things that looked fun to sleep next to, but that bit didn’t seem relevant!  The little human looked just as startled to see her, and for a while they both just stared at each other for the longest time, both wide-eyed but not moving.  Of the millions of thoughts racing through her head, the same few kept coming back up.  A human, here? Why?  This can’t be good.  With that, she raised onto all four legs, lowered her head, and gave a low snarl at the intruder, who had now stood up and clenched both of her fists tightly.

“Oh stop being silly, Millie,” came a quiet, calm voice from the depths of Volbert’s collection.  Millie glanced to where the familiar voice had come from. It was Morris the old badger, sat there looking quite content, one paw folded over the other, his back end resting inside a big black cooking pot.  He chuckled to himself.  “Hmm, ‘silly Millie’, it rhymes”.

The intruder seems to be looking from one of them to the other very quickly, trying to keep her eyes on both of them at once.  Still with her fists clenched, she had a determined look on her face.

“She has been here a while now, and all she has done is sat by the fire.  She is cold and tired, just like you,” Morris explained.

“She is nothing like me!” Millie snapped, fixing the human with a stare.

“Really?  You both have the same stance.  If you were human, or she a fox, you would look identical right now. She isn’t here to hurt you. She didn’t know you were there.  Please Millie, go back to sleep, or at least sit down,” Morris had a very soothing voice, perfect for reading a bedtime story in, and although Millie didn’t agree, she was tempted to go back to sleep.  She sat down, but fixed the human with a stare and a little grumble under her breath.   

“I wish she could explain herself, and why she is here,” Millie muttered grumpily.

“Well, maybe she can”, Morris replied, and with that, he nodded at Flake.

The human watched with a keen sense of interest as Flake the red squirrel bounded jerkily towards the battered armchair, sat on the very top, and dangled his bushy tail to where someone’s face would be.  After a few moments, an almighty “aaaaah-CHOOOO” filled the round chamber.

Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Lyla-Mae had no idea what was happening.  It looked like the fox and the badger had been talking.  Could a fox and a badger really talk to each other?  Why was the fox living with a squirrel?  Who – or what – just sneezed?  She stood there, fists clenched, jaw set, eyebrows furrowed, and legs slightly apart. Bring it on!

As bold as she made herself, she could do nothing but stare at what lay before her.

Something rose out of the chair sleepily.  Ever so slightly shorter than mommy, it was covered top to toe with very short, shiny dark hair, even on its face and long pointy nose.  It did have bald, fat pink hands. Huge hands . . . and no ears! Whatever this thing was, it was FAT!  A dusty mustard coloured waistcoat strained around its bulbous belly, and brass buttons shone in the firelight.  It also wore some large clunky brass goggles over its eyes.

If Lyla-Mae may was any more shocked, her eyebrows would no longer be on her face!  She stared wide-eyed as the thing curled one massive hand into a loose fist, and placed it over its mouth as it stifled a yawn whilst stretching its back at the same time.  Whatever happened, she would not scream – after all, she was the bravest child in all of Daisyfield . . .even if she hadn’t won the race!

The badger seemed at ease, which strangely made Lyla-Mae feel ever-so-slightly calmer.  The creature – it looked like a giant mole stuffed into a waistcoat -looked straight at her, and gave a rather comical rubbing of its goggle lenses and then took a double take, and then shuffled backwards a few steps, knocking a small pile of rubbish and sending it cascading around his feet.  The thing seemed more frightened of her than she did of it.  Strange. 

The creature busied itself with cleaning up the items it had scattered; its fat fingers seemed surprisingly light and delicate when it was picking up all the odds and ends that lay in the small pathway, out of place. 

“Um, hello?” Lyla called out in a small voice which echoed around the room as she took a few ginger steps towards the thing.  The creature flinched at the sound, knocking the mound of junk once more.  A circular copper carriage clock rolled all the way to Lyla-Mae, and stopped abruptly once it hit her boot.  The creature went still.  Lyla-Mae noticed that the badger and squirrel had gone still too, and the fox had begun its low growling noise once more, watching her. 

Slowly, Lyla-Mae bent to pick up the clock in a mittened hand, her fingers clumsily prying it off of the floor.  Taking some cautious steps and smiling politely, she stood just three feet away from the big mole.  She was stood so close to the creature that she could see it blink with surprise, the effect made rather funny with the goggles it wore magnifying its eyes.  It wasn’t scary at all; if anything, it looked like a giant cuddly toy.  With both arms outstretched, she offered the clock to the mole, and both smiled sweetly and nodded at the same time.  After only a second, the mole almost seemed to smile back, and reaching out, he ever so gently slid his finger beneath the clocks handle and lifted it from Lyla-Mae’s hands.

After the mole delicately perched the clock atop its junk mountain, he turned back to face Lyla-Mae, a quizzical expression on his furry face. After a brief pause, it seemed to come to a conclusion.  Reaching inside the waistcoat pocket, it pulled out a little brown bag by its drawstrings.  Working it open with his fingernails, he balanced it on his left hand whilst reaching in with the thumb and forefinger of his right hand, his pinky finger outstretched politely.  When his hand emerged, there was a strange pinky-purple glow coming from his pinched fingers.  With a sudden movement that seemed out of place with its usual slow deliberate way of moving, pinky-purple dust sprinkled down over Lyla-Mae, settling in her hair, and on her hat and shoulders.  She sneezed, kicking up all the sparkling dust.  She breathed in heavily . . . and sneezed again.

Rubbing her nose with the back on her gloved hand, she was about to . . . well, she didn’t know what she was about to do (other than be a bit grumpy) when she heard a low but soothing voice say “um, hello there. I am Volbert, thankyou for helping me tidy up the mess I made.”

Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Lyla-Mae stopped in mid-nose rub and looked over her poised hands.

 “Volbert?” she squeaked.

The mole – Volbert – cupped Lyla-Mae’s hands in his, and performed a rather awkward bow.  “Um, it is very nice to meet you, madam” said Volbert.

“Please, call me Lyla, and thankyou for welcoming me into your home,” Lyla replied, hoping she sounded sincere.

“Lyla!  What a beautiful name!  I know a unicorn called ‘Lyla’, haven’t seen her for a while unfortunately.”  Volbert exclaimed.

“Really?  My mommy named me after a unicorn!” Lyla said excitedly, smiling broadly.

“Oh what a marvellous coincidence! I wonder if it is the same unicorn . . . unicorns are very shy creatures, especially around huma- oh my! Oh dear!” exclaimed Volbert, releasing Lyla’s hands as he headed over to the fire.  “I have hardly welcomed you into my home at all!  I am so very sorry, I – um – I don’t usually have guests”

Lyla was about to say that it was quite alright, but she would not be heard over the noise Volbert was making.  He placed a battered steel kettle on a grille over the fire-place with a fair amount of difficulty.

“Please Lyla, make yourself comfortable,” the badger said in a pleasant and warm voice.  “I am Morris, and you, m’dear, must be cold.  Please, sit by the fire.”  With that, he gestured with a grey paw towards the spot between Teddy Radson and Lyla.

So the badger could talk as well? Lyla was beginning to wonder whether this was actually all a dream, and that she was sleeping . . . or that she did crash into that big rock after all.

“Oh how rude of me!” exclaimed Volbert; he gave off the impression that he was always surprised. “Um, that powder – sorry about that – . . . ummm, where was I?  Oh yes!  Um, animals always talk to each other, but for some reason humans can’t hear what we say.  I managed to make a powder which I suspected could make humans hear animals talking.  I’m surprised it worked so well first time,“ he continued, with a hint of pride in his voice.

“Sooooo, I can talk to animals?” Lyla asked quizzically, her voice rising at the end of the sentence.

“Of course!” laughed the ginger squirrel, clapping his hands together excitedly. “My name is Flake!  And that over there is Millie.”  He pointed at the fox, and in quick jerky flash he was stood next to Millie

“Hmph! S’pose you can have a blanket . . . if you are cold,” Millie said sulkily, carrying the pink and blue spotted blanket Lyla had been pulling at originally towards her.

“Thank you very much. I was a bit chilly, Millie” Lyla said, smiling fondly.

“Hmmm, ‘chilly Millie’, it rhymes,” Morris mused aloud.

Millie gave a sidewards glance at Morris, and then turned back to Lyla.  “He always does that.”  And with that, the two of them laughed and sat by the fire, as Volbert brought a lovely steaming cup of tea in a blue and white striped cup.

And so they sat together, the odd little group consisting of a fox, a badger, a squirrel, one very puzzled little girl, one huge talking mole and, and Esther the hippo and Teddy Radson.  Between them they endured an awkward silence, which was only exaggerated by the loud slurping of their steaming cups of tea, until eventually Lyla asked “soooooo . . .  what’s with all the junk?”