The Farthing Wood Collection 1 (21 page)

Kestrel landed and looked at Mole questioningly with his piercing eyes. Ginger Cat arched his wounded back and hissed aggressively.

‘He came with news of Badger,’ Mole explained lamely. ‘All the way from the Naturalist’s house. He wasn’t pouncing on me.’ He described the news the cat had brought.

Kestrel apologised inadequately for his actions, and told Mole what he had surmised from the air. He and Mole looked at Ginger Cat’s back. The blood was flowing freely from the two large lacerations, dyeing the ginger fur and making it sticky.

‘You and your confounded Oath,’ muttered Ginger Cat weakly.

‘We can’t stay here,’ said Mole. ‘Kestrel, will you fetch Fox? I don’t know what to do.’

Fox was not long in arriving on the scene, accompanied by Vixen. Without much difficulty, they persuaded Ginger Cat to go to shelter in their earth. He was too feeble now to argue. As they made their way along, Mole acquainted Fox with Badger’s plight and of the cat’s journey to see them.

‘What a reward for such a good deed,’ said Fox bitterly.

‘I acted with the best intentions,’ Kestrel hastened to
assure them. ‘I thought only of Mole. How could I have known?’

‘No-one’s blaming you,’ Fox replied. ‘It’s just a very unfortunate incident.’

Once inside the earth, Vixen took it upon herself to lick the wounds on the cat’s back and to clean his fur. ‘They are nasty cuts,’ she observed, ‘but they aren’t bleeding any more. I hope you will share our meal later? When it is dark Fox and I will go out to see what we can find.’

Ginger Cat expressed his thanks and, himself convinced that his feebleness was more due to excessive tiredness than his wounds, fell gratefully asleep.

Mole stayed with him when the foxes went off on their foray and, before they returned, Ginger Cat awoke with a start in even pitcher blackness than before. ‘It’s all right,’ said Mole. ‘You’re not alone.’ The cat was amused at his tiny companion’s effort at reassurance. He could have killed Mole with one paw, but of course had no desire to do so.

‘You needn’t stay, Mole,’ he said smoothly. ‘I’m a lot better for that nap. I’ll be quite happy to wait on my own for my promised supper.’

‘Just as you like,’ said Mole readily. ‘I’m as hungry as can be myself. I think I’ll pay a visit to my own food store.’ They exchanged farewells and Mole departed.

As soon as Ginger Cat was sure Mole had got right away, he himself stood up, stretched carefully, and shook his coat daintily. Despite himself, he winced at the pain that throbbed in his back. But he was ready to leave. He had no intention of waiting for Fox and Vixen to return. He would go hungry, but at least before morning he would be back in the warmth and cosiness of the cottage.

He emerged into the starlight, shivering in the bitter
cold, but was thankful to see no further snow had fallen. So his mission had been accomplished and he was gratified to have met Mole, Fox and Vixen. But he cherished a hope for revenge on the other of Badger’s friends he had encountered. Was he, a cat, to allow himself to be bested by a bird – his natural prey? Hawk or no hawk, should the opportunity ever arise Kestrel would find he had made an error of judgement if he believed he could inflict any harm on an equally cunning hunter without redress.

It was almost dawn when Ginger Cat limped back through his special flap into the Warden’s lodge. Never before in his life had he felt so weary. He knew Badger would be agog for his news, but he was too tired to face his questions. So he lay down on the hall carpet where he was and dropped into an immediate sleep.

It was the noise of the Warden’s rising that woke him. He stood up stiffly to greet the man’s arrival. The Warden, of course, was overjoyed to see him but very concerned to find the wounds inflicted by Kestrel. These were attended to in no time and a large saucer of warm milk proffered while a well-deserved meal was prepared.

Badger could barely restrain his impatience for the man to leave the kitchen, but as soon as he did he started
eagerly to demand to know all that had happened.

‘I met your friends Mole and Fox and Vixen,’ said Ginger Cat. ‘They were relieved to hear of your safety. I also met Kestrel who is responsible for this,’ he added in a hard voice, indicating his newly-bandaged back, and he went on to describe the incident.

‘Oh dear, I really am so sorry,’ Badger was most contrite. ‘I can see exactly how it happened. He won’t be able to forgive himself for injuring you.’

‘Really?’ hissed the cat sarcastically. ‘I think he recovered his presence of mind fairly swiftly. It may be news to you that there is no love lost between cats and birds.’

‘But I hope you won’t hold this mistake against Kestrel,’ Badger said worriedly.

Ginger Cat did not reply. Badger looked hard at him, but his bland expression was totally inscrutable.

‘I will tell you one thing,’ said the cat. ‘You have lost your battle to persuade me to live wild. At the risk of appearing soft – and I don’t care a jot – I would never leave this comfortable life to join you out there. I have had my taste now. I’ve experienced the worst weather I’ve known. I’ve been into one of your underground homes and pronounce it to be the most cheerless place I’ve ever seen or, rather, felt. I’ve seen the reality of what lack of food and poor shelter can do to an animal, and for that I had to look no further than the skinny, underfed bodies of your fox friends. But I’m going to turn the tables on you now. I say to you, Badger, that if you give up your cosy new home here to return to those appalling conditions amongst your friends you are absolutely mad.’

‘But this isn’t a home,’ Badger pointed out. ‘I’m merely being tended while I’m hurt. Once I’m on my
feet again, whether I wish it or not, I shall be removed to the Park.’

Ginger Cat shrugged. ‘You’ve seen how I behave and remarked on it,’ he said. ‘I’m quite sure a little feigned affection from you for your human benefactor would be very well received. That seems to be the only reward he expects for doing almost everything for us.’

‘No, no,’ Badger shook his head, smiling. ‘I haven’t the necessary technique. It’s inbred in you cats to make yourself ingratiating. It’s natural to you.’

‘Well, I’m sure it wasn’t always so,’ Ginger Cat responded. ‘It must have begun for a definite purpose. Why don’t you decide to become the first domesticated badger?’

‘No, it wouldn’t be appropriate,’ Badger replied. ‘I’m too old to change my ways now. And, besides, I’m used to living underground, and tunnelling, and sleeping on beds of leaves and grass and moss and so on – not curled up in a basket like a lap dog.’

‘Well, at least stay until the warmer weather,’ Ginger Cat wheedled. He had become genuinely fond of Badger and was sincere in wishing him to be comfortable.

‘Well, well,’ nodded Badger, ‘we’ll see. But I hope you won’t forget all about me if I do go. For my part, I can never repay your kindness in making that journey. And then you come back hurt! It’s most distressing.’

‘You may rest assured I should keep in touch,’ declared Ginger Cat. ‘But, tell me, is your home any better appointed than Fox’s?’

‘Oh yes,’ Badger laughed. ‘He and Vixen live very simply. But you went underground! I’m most impressed.’ He chuckled as he thought of it.

Ginger Cat almost laughed. ‘It’s a topsy-turvy world,’ he said. ‘We’ll have you curled up in front of the fire next.’

The days passed and Badger’s leg grew stronger. He was able to limp a little way around the kitchen to begin with, and then the cat introduced him to the main room of the cottage and he practised walking backwards and forwards from one room to the other. After about a fortnight in the Warden’s home Badger had become quite accustomed to his new life. Well-fed and well cared for, he looked sleeker and fitter than at any time since leaving Farthing Wood. He looked a new animal, and he began to dread the appearance of his longsuffering friends when he should return to them. He knew they would look haggard by comparison, and he felt they might look at him accusingly, envying his new-found health.

But he had to acknowledge that that was not all he was dubious about. There had been an element of truth in Ginger Cat’s words. Perhaps he
had
grown too used to comfort now. He certainly did not relish the prospect of scraping a living again in the freezing desolation of the Park. He was worse equipped to do so now than before his accident. To adjust now to searching once more for his food, to learn again to live on less than he needed to eat and to adapt to those wicked temperatures from which there was no relief, was indeed a daunting thought.

He felt sure that the Warden would not simply turf him out into the cold once he was walking normally again, if there were still no sign of improvement in the weather. The change would be too sudden. So the temptation to stay on where he was, was constantly with him. Yet he knew he would feel guilty if he did stay unnecessarily long. How could he rest content in such luxury while all the time his old companions continued to suffer the worst sort of discomfort? But what if they were to join
him
? Was it possible?

Day after day the same thoughts went through his mind until the time finally arrived when he knew that his injured leg was completely well again. The strapping and bandages had been removed a week before, at the same time as those on Ginger Cat’s back. Now he could shuffle around quite normally once more at his old pace. Now he must decide what he should do.

When he next saw Ginger Cat he told him he was completely recovered. The cat looked at him long and straight. ‘Well?’ he asked at length. ‘What are your plans?’

Badger mentioned his idea of his friends joining them under the care of the Warden. ‘Would the man take them in? Would he be able to, would he want to?’ he kept asking.

‘I don’t know,’ replied Ginger Cat. ‘I don’t know if he would have room for all. I
am
sure he would do his best for the animals who seemed most in need of help. But will they wish to come here?’

‘Now it’s my turn to say I don’t know,’ Badger confessed. ‘But I could try persuading them.’

‘You would have to exclude the birds,’ Ginger Cat said pointedly.

Badger knew what was in his mind. ‘I had already ruled them out,’ he agreed.

‘When will you leave?’ the cat asked next.

‘As soon as the man lets me go.’

‘That will be when you make it apparent you are eager to return to the Park. You’d better make it obvious you want to follow him when he next goes outside.’

The opportunity eventually arose and, the Warden showing willingness, Badger stood once more on the borders of the Park, sniffing the air in all directions. The snow still lay packed on the ground, and the icy temperature cut at his pampered body like a knife. He half
turned back, looking towards the open cottage door that symbolized the way through to comfort. Ginger Cat was sitting on the threshold. He stood up. ‘I’ll come with you part of the way,’ he offered.

‘Gladly,’ replied Badger.

The Warden watched the two animals that had become fast friends walk slowly off. His job was done.

They skirted the Edible Frogs’ pond and Badger remembered Toad and Adder were sleeping nearby, deep down in a bankside away from the weather. All they would know of the winter would be from the stories they would hear from their friends.

‘I wonder how
they’ve
been?’ Badger muttered to himself. Fox and Vixen, Mole, Weasel, Tawny Owl … his friends seemed as strangers. He had become more familiar of late with a human’s pet than with his companions of old.

A little way further on Ginger Cat stopped. ‘I’ll turn back now,’ he said. ‘Go carefully. And my best wishes to Mole and the foxes.’

‘Farewell,’ said Badger. ‘Your company has been delightful. I know we shall meet again.’

‘Until then,’ responded the cat.

Badger watched his sinewy form retrace its steps through the snow. The sky was leaden above the Park; the air still and threatening. A snowstorm was imminent. He must reach his set as quickly as possible. There would be plenty of time to see his friends tomorrow.

The reticence Badger was feeling for re-adopting his old life and friends he himself would never had admitted – even if he had been conscious of it. But those same old friends noticed the change in him at once from
their
unchanged world. Mole, who had been haunting Badger’s set regularly ever since the animals had heard of his whereabouts, entered the set through his connecting tunnel. At first he thought a strange badger had commandeered the place, his old friend looked – and smelt – so different.