The Second Wave (26 page)

Blood knew that he would have to move fast.  Reaching past a shiny white thing, he grasped the thin vine with a forepaw whilst holding on to the trunk with his feet.  There was a flash inside his head brighter than the light on the peacock’s neck, and he was falling, falling, falling through a pit where the sun never shone.  Falling, falling, falling.  Then a thud and – nothing.

Mogul screeched in triumph, lost his balance, fell backwards and fluttered to the ground.

By the time he had walked back to the group of staring hens he had recovered his composure.  As they gathered around, he raised his tail as though nothing had happened.  Blood was forgotten in the primeval mating display.

Later, a man with one of Acorn’s badges on his jumper buried the pine marten’s body in a place in the meadow where the peahens had scratched away the turf, and it was in the dry soil above Blood’s grave that the peachicks played and dusted themselves through the long hot summer that followed.

CHAPTER THIRTY SIX

Oak and Just Poplar had been together in the sequoia tree when Blood had first chased the peacock.  Oak’s eyes were not strong now, so Just Poplar had described what was happening, his voice mounting in excitement.

When Blood fell, lifeless, from the power lines, Just Poplar was overcome with relief.  At first he could not believe that their enemy was truly Sun-gone.  It was not until he saw a human pick up the limp body and carry it away that he really allowed himself to believe what he had seen, and ran off to tell the news to the other Ourlanders foraging in the castle grounds.  Oak limped stiffly along behind him.

‘The marten is Zun-gone, the marten is Zun-gone!’  Just Poplar called and the other squirrels looked up, then gathered round to hear how it had all happened.

‘Him wuz chazing the great bird who flew on to won of the vinez of the new Man-treez, and the marten climbed the trunk.  The Zun zent a little lightning flazh to ztrike the marten and protect the great bird.  Uz zaw the flazh, but there wuz no thunder.  Let uz thank the Zun.’

The squirrels were unable to believe this.  Could it all have happened so quickly?  They stood looking at the breathless Poplar, hope wrestling with disbelief.

You’re quite sure of all this?’ Chestnut asked doubtfully.  Oak had reached them and confirmed Just Poplar’s story.

‘I saw the human pick up the body.  They wouldn’t do that with a live pine marten!’

Clover the Tagger moved forward, a Kernel forming in her head –

‘We thank you, oh Sun,

For freeing Ourland from the

Fear of the marten.’

Then wild squirrelation took over.  With the sudden removal of the one thing in the whole of Ourland that they feared, their relief exploded.  Squirrels raced up and down the trees, leapt across pathways and capered wildly, to the delight of the humans who were streaming ashore from a fleet of boats for the official opening of the island by the National Trust, and for the rededication of the church, on that sunny day in May.

The humans on the ground, and the squirrels in the trees, swept inland towards the little island church, whose tower, for so long the home of the scourge of Ourland, showed above the treetops.

Mogul, the peacock, strutted and displayed as if he knew that he alone was responsible for
all
the celebration.

It was a far more sombre party of squirrels who were progressing through the island treetops from the west.

Going slowly for the sake of the injured squirrels and the one-eyed Tamarisk, Marguerite and Tansy were aware that, if the Ourlanders were safe, and had survived the attacks of the marten, there ought to be squirrel-scent in the trees.  But they had reached the centre of the island without finding any.

They moved cautiously on eastwards.

The jubilant Ourland squirrels watched the humans as they entered the stone building until there was no room for any more.  Other humans clustered outside in the sunshine.  The males were wearing dark coverings and sweating in the heat, the sun hot on their bare heads, whilst the females were in bright coverings of many colours, and each had a different-shaped cover on her head.

The squirrels peered down in amazement.  They had never seen such a gathering of humans, or seen them in such a happy mood.

Oak whispered to Just Poplar, ‘It looks as if the humans are celebrating a Sun-day.’

It was then the singing started, never before heard by these Ourland squirrels.  Waves of human voices, in unison, were rising and falling in rhythmic patterns like the sea on the beach, or the wind in the pine-tops.  Each squirrel sat and listened in rapture.

As suddenly as it had begun, the singing stopped and a single human voice was heard, the words meaningless to the squirrels.

Oak looked around.  His fading sight had caught a movement in the trees to the west and for one awful moment he thought the marten was alive and stalking them.  Then, realising that this could not be true, he pointed the movement out to Just Poplar, who peered in that direction.

‘It’s squirrels!’ he called out, nearly falling from the branch.  ‘I can see Marguerite and Tansy and Tamarisk and…’

His voice choked with emotion.  Then the whole band of Ourland squirrels raced through the treetops to greet their friends.

Such hugging and whisker-brushing, such joy and sadness, so many stories to be exchanged and the death of the pine marten to be rejoiced over that, when the human singing began again behind them, they hardly heard it.  Marguerite, sitting with her father, Oak, was hearing how her mother, Fern the Fussy, had died in the Bunker, when she felt herself moved by the rising and falling sounds and wondered if the singing of the great whales sounded like the singing of the humans in the church beyond the trees.

When the boats had taken most of the humans back to the Mainland, Marguerite, Tansy and Tamarisk explored the area around the church.  They marvelled at how it had been cleaned up and how the overgrowth that they remembered had been cut away and burned.

Marguerite discovered that the humans had just planted a tree near the church.  She examined its shape and the way the young branches stood out from the stem and even tasted the bark carefully, but could not identify it.

If the humans are planting trees, perhaps they are beginning to use their ‘large-brains’ again, she thought, then raced across the grass to join the others who were returning to Beech Valley to celebrate their all being together again and to start rebuilding their dreys.

CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN

In the summer that followed there were so many things for the squirrels to do.  There were Guardianships to be allocated and established, and life-mates to be chosen by the yearlings.  Soon the trees were alive with courting rituals and mating chases.  Tails were high all over Ourland.

There was speculation as to whether Just Poplar would propose a life-mating between himself and Marguerite.  It seemed to many to be a natural outcome, but she was withdrawn and preoccupied.  Perhaps she was missing the comfort of Juniper’s presence or was concerned about Rowan, Meadowsweet and the ex-zervantz with their huge task of educating the Second Wave of Greys on the Mainland.

Then, at the Longest Day Celebrations, Just Poplar surprised them all by announcing that Rusty the Kind, or Rush as she now preferred to be called, had consented to be his life-mate, and she joined him in the Council Leader’s drey in the tree above the pond in Beech Valley.  Chipling was delighted.

Tansy Stout Heart and Tamarisk Great Leap became life-mates as expected, and took a Guardianship near the church.  Tansy loved to watch the humans and listen to their singing whenever they celebrated a Sun-day, which seemed to be once every week.  Her journey to the Mainland might not have been successful in bringing the Woodstock back, but it had resulted in her finding a truly appreciative life-mate and she knew that soon she would have a family of dreylings to tell her story to.

Chipling, though fully grown, attached himself to Marguerite and became her willing pupil.  He did not appear to be interested in any of the yearling females now that Tansy was unobtainable.

Marguerite was pleased to have a listener.  It was Clover, the established Tagger of Ourland, who taught Kernels, Traditions and Manners to the youngsters, and yet Marguerite was an elected Tagger as well.  The squirrels of Alder’s party were pressing for her to act as the official Tagger – at least for them.

Sensing that a dispute might develop which could spoil the new peace of Ourland, Marguerite and Clover, calling on the wisdom of an ancient Kernel, decided to get the squirrels to resolve it by Tail Pairing –

Big disagreements

Are only settled safely

By a Tail Pairing.

Marguerite, who knew from the traditions how a Tail Pairing worked, thought that she had an easier way to arrive at a result.  Instead of matching a ‘yes’ squirrel with a ‘no’ squirrel and seeing which side those left-over represented, she proposed a Tail Poll as she and Chip could both count above eight.

She was concerned to see how much the issue of who was to be Tagger divided the squirrels.

The two ex-princesses, now jointly tagged the Carers were vociferous in their support for their teacher, Clover.  Voxglove, knowing that Alder would back Marguerite, put it around that he should not have a vote as he had no tail to signal his preference.

Clover and Marguerite joined forces to quash that suggestion.  ‘It is the brain which votes – the tail is only used as a signal,’ Clover told Voxglove sternly.  ‘Alder has other ways of making his intentions clear.’

Chipling, being the only other squirrel besides Marguerite who knew numbers above eight, was very proud to be appointed to count the votes.

Excited squirrels gathered in the Council Tree on Poll-day.  Just Poplar took charge.  Fortunately there had been no conflict between him and Alder for the Leader's position – Alder was a recent incomer and had no desire to take on the responsibility.  Mentally exhausted from the trauma of leading his party to safety through the early part of the year, he was glad to be able to live a quiet life on this lovely island with Dandelion.

‘Squirrels who wish Clover to be Tagger, move to the south-side branches and raise your tails,’ Just Poplar directed.  ‘Those who wish Marguerite to be Tagger, move to the north-side branches and do the same.’ Just Poplar moved to the south.

Chipling, very positively on the north side, started the count, mumbling the words to himself.  Marguerite had already counted quietly to herself and knew that they were evenly divided.  It was going to have to be settled by a drawing of twigs!

Chipling finished his count and a thought crossed his mind.  He could ensure that Marguerite would be elected and no one but Marguerite would know.  He glanced at her.  She read his thoughts and shook her head.

He was about to declare ‘Equal Acorns’ when old Oak slumped across the branch where Burdock had passed to the Sun a year before and, losing his grip, fell to the ground below.

The squirrels scrambled down to find that the fine old squirrel, Oak the Cautious, was truly Sun-gone.  Later that day they buried him beneath the Council Tree near his friend Burdock.

‘Sun, take this squirrel

Into the peace of your earth

To nourish a tree.’

The count was never declared.  Marguerite, sad at losing her beloved father and recognising defeat without his vote, ‘climbed down’ and wandered the island seeking a role for herself.  Clover, seeing her thus, offered to share the Tagger’s position with her.

‘Thank you, Clover-Friend, but it wouldn’t work.  A True Tagger must accept total responsibility for the tags she gives.  It can’t be shared.  I feel the Sun has another task in mind for me.’

The two friends brushed whiskers and hugged one another.

Chipling, tired after helping with the collection, burying and storing of the Autumn Harvest, found Marguerite one evening on the beach as the tide was going out.  She was making patterns in the sand with her claws.

‘Look at this,’ she said, pointing to where she had scratched a symbol
 in the sand.

‘What is it?’ he asked.

‘It’s an
.    A is for Acorn!’