Ozette's Destiny (5 page)

“OK. I’ll do it. I’ll be queen, but I don’t want my life to change in any way. No castles. No servants. No bowing and curtsying,” she said sternly, pushing aside doubts that she had what it took to be a queen.

Her friends jumped up and down with happiness.

“We always have a party in the spring to celebrate the return of new life in the forest,” Oliver said, smiling broadly and rubbing his hands together in anticipation. “That will be the perfect time for your coronation.”

“Oliver, don’t you dare make a big deal out of this,” Ozette said, shaking a paw at him. “However, a small, simple gathering might be nice,” she said.

Soon, all of Farlandia was atwitter with plans for the annual Spring Fling. Ozette refused to call it a coronation and begged her friends to downplay that aspect of it. They all solemnly promised, but if Ozette had been paying more attention, she would have noticed each time they agreed, they would also hold their hands, claws or paws behind their backs with fingers crossed.

Ozette insisted she be allowed to help with the planning of the Spring Fling, which would take place in three weeks on the full moon.

Discussions of decorations, food, dancing and games continued far into the night, with all the elves, fairies and animals having a say. Sometimes, Ozette’s walnut-sized brain didn’t think it could hold one more idea.

In typical squirrel fashion, it was hard for Ozette to focus on one thing for too long. On this sun-drenched spring morning, she was stretched out on a fat branch of her massive maple tree picking bits of pecans from her teeth by chewing on a twig, like her grandmother had taught her, using the fibers as squirrelly dental floss. A light breeze ruffled her soft fur, and she felt her grandmother’s presence as she so often did when she quieted her mind.

Ozette loved spring, and had chosen this tree because she could lie in her nesting hole or on a branch and gaze at nature’s patchwork quilt of colors. She hadn’t realized there were so many shades of green!

She loved making up names for the many wildflowers that grew in the forest. Today she spied Tinkerbells, Fairy Wings, Sunsprites, Magenta Happies and Pinkettes. At least that’s what she called them.

She yawned, stood up and started waving her tail back and forth, flagging messages to the other squirrels in Farlandia.

“CRRK! CRRK!” she called.

She heard an answering call from a nearby oak tree and recognized her squirrel friend Daphne’s “THROAK! THROAK.”

Ozette dashed down the tree, stopping only to snag a mouthful of violets that grew in the shade of her maple.

The two squirrels met under an apple tree, where Daphne was crunching on a patch of chickweed and spring mushrooms. Ozette joined her, munching in a comfortable silence until they were both full.

“Let’s do something fun,” Ozette said. “It’s too nice a day to waste lounging around and I’m weary of planning the Spring Fling.”

The two squirrels decided to make a bark raft and float down the creek. The trees were so thick they could scamper from limb to limb, all the way to the water, without touching the ground. They paused only for a tender leaf or bud snack, when the mood struck.

They soon reached the creek, and Ozette shook her head. Recent rains had swelled the usually placid creek, and Ozette thought it was too swift to paddle.

“Don’t be such a spoilsport,” Daphne taunted. “It will be great fun!”

Ozette reluctantly relented, and the two found a sturdy piece of oak bark big enough to hold them. They searched for short branches they could fashion into paddles.

They were ready to launch their little raft, when Oliver came scrambling through the woods wearing a red backpack, his wings tucked behind the straps. “Let me go, too!” he begged.

“I don’t think it’s big enough for all of us, Oliver,” Ozette said.

Oliver hung his head and twitched his pointed elf ears. “We can fit! I know we can! Please, Ozette,” he begged.

“Let him come,” Daphne said. “We could use another paddler in this current.”

Against her better judgment, Ozette helped Oliver make a paddle, and soon they had launched the raft into the fast-moving water.

“Whee!” shouted Daphne, as the makeshift raft careened through the water.

Trees and sky rushed by, and Ozette found herself having fun, despite her misgivings. They startled a deer drinking at the creek’s edge as they drifted by, and a flock of sparrows took flight when they saw the raft. A low-flying griffin tipped its wings to them as it caught an updraft and glided over the creek.

After paddling until the sun was high in the sky, they decided to stop for a snack. They beached the bark raft and stretched. It had been a little cramped for the three of them on the small craft.

“I’ve some goodies in my backpack,” Oliver said, slipping the bright red pack from his back.

Ozette grinned. Oliver was famous for never leaving home without a stash of freshly baked treats.

The trio sat on the bank, and Oliver unpacked a bag of sun-dried strawberries, chocolate neener neeners and cherry fruitinas.

“Yum yum!” Daphne exclaimed, stuffing a chocolate neener neener in her mouth, crumbs raining down her furry chin.

“It’s a good thing squirrels are as active as they are. You can sure tuck into some food,” Oliver said.

Ozette looked at him primly. “We’ve very high metabolisms, and I never gain an ounce,” she said.

Daphne nodded her head in agreement, as she reached for a sun-dried strawberry.

They drank from the stream and piled back onto the raft.

“This section might be a tad tricky,” Daphne said. “Do exactly as I say.”

They came to an area of swift-running rapids, with large rocks peeking out of the creek.

“Maybe we should carry the raft around these rapids instead of risking getting dumped,” Ozette said, nervously eying the churning white water.

But Daphne remained focused on paddling between two huge rocks.

“Paddle left, Oliver! Hard!” Daphne shouted, as they came to a rapid.

Confused, Oliver paddled to the right.

“Left! Not right!” Ozette yelled at the panicking elf.

They hit a large rock broadside, spun around three times and were catapulted into the icy creek. Squirrels are naturally good swimmers, and they headed for shore.

“Help!”

Ozette turned and saw Oliver flailing in the creek. “Swim toward me, Oliver!” she shouted.

“I can’t swim!” he yelled, as his head disappeared under water.

“I thought all elves were required to take swimming lessons!” Daphne yelled, as she watched Oliver surface.

“He must have skipped that day, Daphne,” Ozette said dryly, turning to swim back to Oliver.

The elf grabbed Ozette, threatening to pull them both under.

“Stop fighting me, Oliver,” Ozette said. “Grab my tail and I’ll tow you to shore.”

But the frightened elf kept struggling, and Ozette feared they would both drown. “Give me a paw here, Daphne!” Ozette shouted for back-up.

Daphne headed to the struggling pair, but she, too, was growing tired from fighting the current. Both Ozette and Oliver slipped from the surface.

Daphne heard a “thwomp ... thwomp” and looked up to see a bald eagle, heading for the seemingly doomed pair. The eagle was late heading home to relieve his spouse. It was his turn to watch their chicks while she fed, and he knew he was already in for a tongue lashing. But he had scruples and wasn’t about to ignore the plight of the animals in the water. Besides, he recognized Ozette. The eagle was hoping to snag an invitation to the coronation party and knew it would be bad form not to help the guest of honor.

He swooped low over the water, as Oliver and Ozette surfaced again. “Grab my wings and hold on!” he ordered. Ozette and Oliver each grabbed a wing and soon were airborne.

The eagle carried them to shore on his strong wings and set them down in a grassy clearing. Daphne came running, tripping over tree roots, to reach her friends. The eagle shrugged away their words of gratitude and headed skyward, muttering, “Crazy kids to think they could raft in that raging creek.”

The sun was beginning to set, and the three drenched friends headed toward home. Oliver was shivering and had lost his backpack in the swollen creek. No matter, since the remaining goodies would have been soaked.

Ozette and Daphne helped the elf climb through and over the tree branches until they reached his little stone cottage nestled under a towering hickory tree. Like all elf and fairy houses, Oliver’s home was a whimsical hodgepodge of turrets, cupolas, bay windows and porches. Window boxes were filled to overflowing with moss and a profusion of colorful flowers. On the door hung a wreath of bird feathers, gifted to Oliver by his many winged friends. Ozette was always charmed by his home.

“Come in, and I’ll fix some tea and dinner for us,” Oliver said, opening the door. Soaked, hungry and cold, the two squirrels took him up on his offer.

Oliver gathered kindling and logs and started a fire in his river-stone fireplace. The friends dried and warmed themselves at the hearth. Oliver might not be a good swimmer, but he was a great cook and soon had set plates of spinach quichette and roasted vegetable razzle-dazzles in front of them as a pot of strong elderberry tea brewed over the fire. Soon the friends were dry, warm and satisfied.

Ozette dozed in front of the fire until Daphne poked her with a paw.

“Time to head back to our nests,” Daphne sighed, getting up. They hugged Oliver good night and headed out into the crisp, clear night to their homes.

Early the next morning, Ozette started down her tree, periodically stretching, yawning and pausing to enjoy the streaks of pink, gold and crimson splashed across the sky.

Suddenly she heard “gallump, gallump,gallump” and looked up to see Cassady bounding through the woods, ears flapping, tongue lolling out of her mouth. The large golden dog stopped, gave Ozette a wet lick and then proceeded to root around in the vine basket to see if any carrots remained from the gift Sydney had left days before.

Princess Abrianna was charging through the woods, calling for her dog. Her hair was flowing down her back, blowing in the breeze as she ran. She giggled as she grabbed Cassady by the scruff of her neck and wiped Ozette’s wet face with the hem of her silky crimson skirt.

“Sorry about that, Ozette,” she apologized. “She got away from me. But I’ll make it up to you. The bees have offered me honey from their hives. We’ll bake honeyhunkettes for the Spring Fling,” she said with a wink.

Ozette smiled. Honeyhunkettes would be perfect! She watched her friend walk briskly down the path and thought how lucky she was to live in such a delightful forest.

Ozette spent the morning cleaning her nest. Queen or not, she sure did get messy. Soon bits of walnut shells, old acorns, fruit and vegetable tidbits and scraps of withered leaves were raining onto the ground from above. As a bonus, she found some still edible dried apples, a piece of yellow cloth and two cardinal feathers she had forgotten she’d stashed in the back of her nest.

She scrambled through the treetops, using her sharp teeth to cut a leaf here, a leaf there, for her nest. What a wonderful variety of leaves the forest provided! She tucked them neatly into her home, and then ambled down her tree to collect fresh moss for carpeting, taking only small amounts from each patch so the plants weren’t harmed. She made numerous trips back and forth, carrying the moss in her mouth. After she had smoothed the moss neatly on the floor of her nest, she admired her tidy home. Feeling pleased, she tucked herself under her pile of fresh leaves and fell into a deep sleep.

She was dreaming about riding Maxwell through the forest when she heard whispers at the bottom of her tree.

“She’s been so busy with the Spring Fling plans, she’ll be mad if we wake her.”

“Not Ozette. She’ll be mad if she misses out,” said another familiar voice.

Ozette’s ears pricked up, and she stuck her head out of her nest. Five of her squirrel friends were gathered at the base of the tree – Daphne, Chloe and Zoe, Guido and Baby Fiona, who was still a tiny youngster.

“We’re going adventuring and want you to join us,” called Baby Fiona.