The Farthing Wood Collection 1 (20 page)

There were human voices outside. The cat jumped up to the window-sill to look. ‘Ah,’ he said. ‘The man who makes animals well is coming. He often comes here when a wild creature has been found in trouble. He will help you.’

The Warden came in with another human who was, indeed, a vet. Badger found himself quite unalarmed at being closely examined and tested, and then having his bad leg bound tightly with some materials. The two men then talked for a period, and the Warden seemed to be quite satisfied with what he was told. The vet made a fuss of the cat, calling him by his name, ‘Ginger’, and tickling his chin. Badger’s new friend responded in the way expected, by purring very loudly and nuzzling the proffered finger. Then the animals were left alone again. Badger was amused, and decided to persist with his suggestion of the cat’s adopting the wild way of life.

‘Well, perhaps I may,’ the cat said evasively, ‘but I
think it will be quite a while yet before you’re fit enough for the man to release you.’

‘Release me?’ said Badger sharply. ‘I’m not to be kept here, am I?’

‘Oh no,’ said the cat. ‘As soon as you are considered to be quite well enough to return to the wild, you’ll be taken outside to run away freely.’

‘I shouldn’t have doubted really,’ said Badger. ‘I know that man really wants the best for wild creatures. If only all humans were of his type, there would be no need for any beast or bird to fear them. But I believe they are few and far between.’

‘Oh, there’s not many like him,’ the cat averred. ‘He’s about the best you can hope for from their race.’

Badger noted the enthusiasm in the cat’s voice, which certainly did suggest there was a bond of attachment between him and the Warden, despite the animal’s claim to be independent. Then he thought of his own attachments. He wished he knew how his old friends were. By now they were sure to be concerned about his disappearance. He dared not think too much about how Mole might be feeling. He watched the cat washing himself meticulously, preparatory to curling up in his own bed. A thought struck him. He himself was unable to go to them, but he could send a messenger. The cat could be his legs.

‘I wonder if I could ask you to do me quite a large favour?’ Badger asked rather nervously, for he suspected the cat’s reaction.

The cat paused in the middle of his toilet, the tip of his tongue protruding from his mouth and one hind leg raised into the air from his squatting position.

‘I’m getting increasingly worried about my friends in the Reserve. They don’t know where I am,’ Badger went on. ‘I know they’ll be out looking for me, and they’ve
more than enough to cope with just staying alive at the moment, without bothering about me.’

‘I think I know what the request is to be,’ the cat remarked, lying down.

‘
Would
you be able to be so obliging as to carry a message of my safety to them?’

‘To be perfectly honest,’ the cat said, ‘I don’t think it is possible. Your friends are meat-eaters, or some of them are. They don’t know me, and they’re very hungry. Don’t you think I would be exposing myself to more than a reasonable risk of attack by a fox or an owl?’

‘I’m sure you would be too large a morsel for an owl,’ Badger said reassuringly. ‘As for Fox and Vixen they, like Tawny Owl, are mostly inactive in the daytime. You would be quite safe then, even if they might pose a threat after dark, which I personally don’t believe. You are a reasonably large animal yourself, and sure to be beyond their scope. In any case, you showed no fear of
me
from the outset.’

‘But I knew you were sick,’ the cat pointed out, ‘otherwise you wouldn’t have been here. And, even if I am safe in daytime, I don’t know the terrain. The Park is enormous, and completely covered by snow. I’d sink up to my neck at the first step.’

‘No, you’re too light-footed for that. You’ve been outside the cottage, anyway, in the snow.’

‘Yes, but most of it has been cleared by the man where
we
want to walk. If I went into the depths of the Park where would I shelter? It would be a long trek to where your friends live, and then to come back again.’

‘You could shelter in my set and be quite warm and safe,’ Badger offered unrealistically. ‘Any of them would show you where it is.’

‘Impossible,’ the cat declared roundly. ‘I couldn’t go
underground. No, I’m sorry, my friend, because I would like to help. But I really don’t see that I can.’

Badger resorted to a final means of persuasion. Affecting a slightly malicious tone he said, ‘So I was right. You couldn’t survive alone, without human assistance.’

The cat looked at him angrily for a second. ‘You seem to forget I wasn’t born in the wild like you and your friends,’ he snapped. ‘I haven’t the long experience of the lore of survival you have acquired from birth. You tell me you wild creatures are literally battling for life in what are, after all, exceptionally bad conditions. How well do you think I will manage, without the knowledge you are armed with?’

Badger felt this was an honest enough answer and that it would not be seemly to pursue the argument. But his friends
must
be informed. ‘Then there’s no alternative,’ he told the cat quietly. ‘I accept what you say as reasonable, and so it means I shall have to go myself.’

‘Don’t be so ridiculous!’ cried the cat impatiently. ‘I can understand you are fond of your friends, but you are taking unselfishness too far. They will just have to get along without you for a bit. You
can’t
walk now, but it shouldn’t be too long before you are able to return to them – perhaps a couple of weeks. I don’t know how serious the damage is. Who knows? Perhaps the worst of the winter will be over by then.’

Badger shook his head. ‘I couldn’t possibly leave them in ignorance for a matter of weeks,’ he persisted doggedly. ‘You don’t seem to understand. That oath we swore back in Farthing Wood – it hasn’t lapsed. My friends won’t just accept that I’ve vanished away. They will be risking their necks to find me.’

‘Humph!’ the cat snorted irritably. ‘You seem to have a very high opinion of yourself.’

‘Don’t be absurd,’ retorted Badger. ‘Oh, you can say
what you like, but I’ve got to get word to them. If you won’t go I mean what I say. I shall go myself even if it means crawling all the way.’

The cat realized he was in a corner. He could not possibly allow the crippled Badger to throw his life away, for that was what it would mean. So he had to relent.

‘Very well, you’ve convinced me,’ he said with reluctance. ‘I’ll start tomorrow if it isn’t snowing. You’d better describe your friends to me in detail, so that I can recognize them.’

‘I shall never forget this, Ginger Cat,’ Badger said warmly. ‘And, believe me, neither will the other animals. You’ve just made yourself a host of new friends.’

‘Well, Badger’ – the cat smiled – ‘you’re a very persuasive fellow.’

‘You are now party to the Oath that binds all the creatures of Farthing Wood, Vixen and Whistler,’ Badger reminded him. ‘That means, if ever you yourself are in danger or difficulties – well, I think you understand me?’

‘We understand each other,’ said Ginger Cat.

No snow was falling in the morning and two very different animals, who were destined to meet that very day, were preparing to set out from opposite ends of the Park on behalf of Badger.

From the Warden’s cottage Ginger Cat, having bade farewell to his new friend, was emerging. He jumped over the fence and looked with foreboding at the great white expanse before him over which he would have to travel. His first faltering steps found the snow surface reasonably firm, and his courage rose slightly. But he knew it was a long way in difficult conditions to Badger’s companions.

Meanwhile in Badger’s own set, Mole had determined to begin his search. He had formed the idea that Badger
had somehow got lost or injured underground as he was not to be seen anywhere on the surface. So he had decided that, as he, Mole, was quite the kingpin among subterranean travellers, it should be he who must search this new area. He began by investigating all of Badger’s tunnels in case he had had an accident while digging close to home. Of course he found no sign of any mishap. His next task was to surface and look for any other holes in the neighbourhood where Badger might have entered. This labour of love was as doomed to failure as it was devoted. But Mole kept trying, his stout little heart allowing him to emerge undismayed at every fresh disappointment. Each time he plunged down into the barren, frozen ground he thought that perhaps this time he was going to rescue his poor friend, and it was this idea which made his persevere.

Ginger Cat continued on his way, his silent footsteps taking him slowly, but steadily, towards his goal. He was beginning to feel very chilled and longed for the bright fireside of the cottage, where he basked content in the company of his human companion. As the morning wore on he got colder and colder and regretted his foolhardy mission. After all, what was an injured badger to him? For all the fine words about this wonderful Oath of theirs, he was an outsider, an individual. He was no member of a party. Why should he concern himself with whether Fox or Mole or Weasel or any of the rest of Badger’s precious friends should lose their lives looking for him? They were all total strangers to Ginger Cat. Whatever he might have boasted to Badger, he was not a wild creature like they were, having to make shift through the seasons as best they could, come sun, wind, rain, snow and ice. He had an alternative – the alternative of keeping warm and comfortable all day if he felt like it; of sleeping by a blazing fire with a full stomach,
ignorant of the raging elements of Nature. It had been his pride alone that had sent him on this absurd journey. Oh, how cold he felt!

All the time the cat was cursing his own misfortune, he was nearing Badger’s home area. He passed by the Hollow without knowing its significance and then, suddenly, his senses were alert again as at last he saw movement ahead. He increased his speed and found a small black animal with a long snout crawling out of a hole. It was, of course, Mole.

Mole saw a large unknown animal approaching him and instantly ducked back underground.

‘Don’t go!’ called Ginger Cat down the hole. ‘You may be who I’m looking for. I have news of Badger.’

Mole reappeared at once. ‘Badger? Where is he? Is he all right? Who are you?’

‘He was injured,’ Ginger Cat said. ‘He’s been rescued by the human you call the Naturalist, who is caring for him. Don’t worry, he will soon be well.’

Mole did a little jig. ‘Thank heaven he’s still alive,’ he said joyfully. ‘But tell me who you are?’

Ginger Cat explained. Then, ‘You must be Mole?’ he enquired. ‘Badger told me you lived underground.’

Mole confessed. ‘We’ve all been so worried,’ he said. ‘No sign of him for three days. But you are our good friend. You’ve been very brave.’

‘Badger told me about your long journey here from your old home,’ said Ginger Cat.

‘Will you come and meet the others?’ Mole said enthusiastically. ‘They’ll be so grateful for your news.’

‘No, I’m afraid I must decline. I want to be back before it gets dark, and it’s a long way.’

‘Of course. Tell me, when does Badger think he can come back to us?’

‘Oh, Badger would come now if he could,’ Ginger Cat
said with a smile. ‘But he would be very wise, in my opinion, if he waits for the man to decide. Then he will be sure to be fully well again.’

Mole noticed this tribute to humankind, and realized the cat stood in a different relationship. ‘Tell him we are all well,’ Mole said. ‘At least, tell him we are managing, and that we are missing him terribly.’

‘I will, certainly. I hope I may see you again some time,’ said Ginger Cat politely.

‘Thank you again from all of Farthing Wood,’ Mole answered importantly. ‘There will always be a greeting for you here.’

Ginger Cat turned to make his way back. Mole watched him go. As the representative of the Farthing Wood community, he wondered if he had handled the meeting correctly. With a start, he remembered he had not offered the cat any refreshment. The animal had made a long journey, and now had the same distance to retrace. There were an abundance of worms in his larder. He called out.

The cat heard the noise and looked round. He could not make out Mole’s words for he was a small creature and did not have a strong voice. Mole called again, but Ginger Cat still failed to understand and started to run back.

At that moment Kestrel, who had been patrolling the Park all day from the air for signs of Badger, spotted the two animals on the ground. He saw a large cat running towards his friend Mole, and naturally assumed it was an attack. Wheeling quickly, he dived earthwards and struck Ginger Cat like an arrow, his talons digging deep into the creature’s flesh.

The cat howled and lashed out at the bird, but Kestrel was already ascending again for another plunge.

‘Stop, Kestrel, stop!’ called Mole frantically. ‘He’s a
friend!’ But the hawk was too high to hear and was preparing to launch another strike. ‘Quickly, into the hole,’ Mole said desperately as the cat was instinctively flattening its body against the ground. Ginger Cat heard, but it was too late to move. Down swooped Kestrel again and Mole hurled himself against the ginger body, so that the hawk hesitated and lost the impetus of the descent. This time he heard Mole’s pleas, ‘No, no! Keep away, Kestrel! He’s a friend – a friend!’