“There is a cave ahead.  It will shelter us, and the spring is there,” Nonna whispered.
“Why are they so persistent? Why do they look for you?” Hoopy asked.
“I know where the entrance is to the Narflbots’ lands,” Nona replied nervously. “I have seen the Chief Narflbot’s headquarters. That makes me dangerous.”
“My father is the priest of the High King. The Narflbots planned to use me for ransom and wanted to get information about our people. I didn’t think they were in the area where the Farmer Man lives. I thought they ranged more to the west.”
Suddenly, Nonna realized she should have warned them. She felt afraid. “I am ashamed. Befriending me brings danger to you. Wait in the cave, they will leave, and you can return to safety.”
“Danger is what you were in when we found you. The Narflbots have been your enemies since we have known you, but how do they know who you are?” whined Flur-Ella.
“They have foto-plates of my family. Someone gave them to the Chief Narflbot. They recognized me.”
“We do not know about foto-plates. What are those? Will they know about the cave and find us?” grumbled Bar-thur.
“Few know about the cave. It is almost invisible to the eye. We will be safe there,” Nonna answered. She continued, “A foto-plate is a picture of a person or thing, which someone may carry to another location. It is a tool left from the old time.”
None of the Forest Beings knew of foto-plates. How could you be in two places? What was she talking about? Fear and distrust showed on their faces.
“A foto-plate sounds extremely dangerous. Maybe this isn’t such a good tool. Who would do this?” Bar-thur rumbled.
With a soft bark, Pata-Pikki said, “The One Who Lives told me we were to help you. We still have that responsibility. I will continue.”
Hoopy and Flur-Ella studied him. Hoopy whined, “If Pata-Pikki thinks this is right, we will follow.”
Bar-thur looked through narrowed eyes at each of them. “The Narflbots will turn us into skins if they catch us.” With a low bumbling grumble, he continued along the canyon wall. Turning the corner, they saw the shadow had moved to the opposite wall. A Strange Contraptor flew somewhere close by.
Pata-Pikki sunk into his heart. “I am confused,” he said to The One Who Lives, “Are we to stay with this Wilding girl or join our friends?” There was no answer. Pata-Pikki knew from experience that he needed to carry this through. The One Who Lives would tell him to change direction when it was best to do that.
They crossed the dry riverbed, looking continually into the bright blue sky above, seeing nothing. Shadows again became their hiding place.
“I know it is in this part of the canyon. The opening is hard to see.” Nonna said. The sound of the Strange Contraptor became louder.
“We must find it quickly,” Flur-Ella whined. “The Strange Contraptor sounds like it is coming back in this direction.” They ran down the length of the canyon wall, searching.
“It looks like a crack in the wall, but it is a slot wide enough for a Wilding to pass through,” Nonna instructed.
Bar-thur looked surprised. “Can I get through it?” he growled.
“Let’s find it, and we will know!” Pata-Pikki yipped. “The One Who Lives will surely help us in our need.”
Looking to the other side, Nonna said, “Maybe it is on the other side? I know it is here.”
To their surprise, against the far wall was the shadow of a slot. A fallen slab leaned against it. The whir of the Strange Contraptor grew louder.
“Run,” Hoopy barked. Across the dry riverbed they ran, and providentially slid into a space behind a large stone slab. 
Bar-thur followed. It was tight, but in he went. The Strange Contraptor flew directly overhead. They ran down a slope that took them into the cool darkness of the cave. They heard water dripping somewhere ahead.

“I can’t see anymore. I will have to sit down until my eyes get used to the dark,” Nonna said, crying.
 

Sleeping deeply, they passed a peaceful night. The new moon made an arc across the sky and dipped toward the western horizon as Pata-Pikki opened his eyes and looked around the circle of companions. A glimmer of light had appeared on the far eastern horizon. He saw Nonna sit up in the ferns that had made her bed. Nodding to her in the half-light, Pata-Pikki stood and roused Hoopy, Bar-thur, and Flur-Ella. “We’re going to move now.”
Gathering their possessions, they swallowed a hasty breakfast. Hoopy filled the hole where he had been sleeping and went from place to place, pulling the growth that had made their beds upright. An observer would not know they had been there.
Flur-Ella looked down at a crushed fern that was hanging over. “Hoopy, you forgot that one!” She jumped up and kicked the fern upright, running in a circle. She danced around it, leaving no trace of her dance on the ground. They laughed at her silliness. She giggled in return.
With a lightened spirit, they took a last drink from the stream and descended the mountain. The light of the sun appeared in the east. Ahead, they saw low-rolling barren hills.
Hearing a familiar chirp, they looked up and saw Hatch. “Here you are!” she chirped. “You have come a long way.”
“We are going east towards those stone cliffs, as Nonna lives in a village called Mihael,” Pata-Pikki whistled back to Hatch.
“I will tell the others. They send their greetings. Our group has gone south.” Hatch explained the route. “We hold you in our hearts,” she whistled.
“Thank you, Hatch. We will meet you there,” Pata-Pikki whined. He translated what the others had not understood. With that, Hatch flew into the sky and back into the forest.
They studied the landscape that lay before them. Pata-Pikki asked, “Is this country familiar to you?”
Bar-thur uttered a squeaking sigh, “There are no trees down there!”
Nonna laughed, “There are trees, but they are small.” She pointed to the low-growing scrub cedars that dotted the landscape. “I know this country; these are the Rolling Hills. Those are the Rockliffs that you see in the distance. They are the Stone Fortress. That is where we go. I think the Strange Contraptors and their owners will not come this far. We perhaps don’t need to travel as quickly.”
Pata-Pikki barked quizzically, “Where does the Farmer Man live? Are we close to his home?”
Nonna pointed to the north. “He lives near the low hill you see in the distance. It is about a day’s march from here.”
“Do you want to get the part for the plow you needed from him?” Pata-Pikki asked. “I would like to meet him.”
Nonna was quiet. “No, that may be a trap. I wonder if he is still safe. I feel that we should go directly to the Rockliffs.”
“Does The One Who Lives tell you this?” woofed Pata-Pikki. “I have no sense of it.” It was still; there was no wind at the edge of the desert to whisper messages.
“Yes, I think so…” she answered.
Descending from the forest, they spent the rest of the morning climbing up and down sandy hills, always moving toward the massive cliffs. Stopping to eat under the east side of a large hill dotted with small scrubby bushes, Nonna spoke to them. “If we can find the Deep Road from this point, it will be better for us. Let’s go to the north, as that is where I came into the desert from the Rockliffs.”
They made their way in a northerly direction when Nonna exclaimed, “The Deep Road!” Pointing, she saw something in the landscape that was different. Puzzled, the Scrufflings wondered what she saw.
The hills gave way to high stone cliffs. Between them was a deep, dry riverbed. Climbing down, the Forest Beings marveled at the sandy roadway that wound through a rock-lined corridor. The sun rose in the sky, and its warmth bounced off the walls.
“There is a spring deeper into the canyon with good water,” Nonna said hopefully.
Suddenly they heard the whirly of a Strange Contraptor somewhere above them. “To the wall!” Pata-Pikki yipped, abandoning the thought of removing his muffler in the newfound heat. Quickly, they flattened themselves against the side of the canyon wall in the deep shadows and remained motionless. 
Nonna’s green clothing gradually faded to brown so that she blended into the stone. Their forest clothing had the same effect, taking on the natural color of the walls against which they hid. They heard the feet of the Strange Contraptor landing in the soft sand directly above them. Then, as suddenly, it lifted again into the air and, by the sound of it, flew north.
 

Nonna continued to walk up and down and stretch. “My body feels tingly, but I can feel my legs and arms. The feeling of shock and numbness is wearing off.”
Pata-Pikki whined, “Can you run? They will search for you.”
“They must not find me! I’ll run - I can run for my life!” Nonna cried.
Collecting their equipment, Pata-Pikki stowed the ropish into his pack, and off they ran into the depth of the forest. Overhead, they occasionally heard the hum of Strange Contraptors searching. They ran over hills and valleys, climbing fallen rocks and logs, splashing across icy streams, increasing their speed with the recovery of the use of Nonna’s legs in the hope that Strange Contraptors would no longer venture in their direction.
Suddenly Pata-Pikki held out his arms and barked softly, “Stop!” He motioned for silence. A quiet breeze had warned him they were in danger. Above them, they heard a faint pinging.
“What?” growled Hoopy softly.
“Look around you!” snuffed Pata-Pikki quietly, pointing upward.
To their horror, above them was the silver bottom of a Strange Contraptor. What they had initially thought were trees were the Strange Contraptor’s bird-like legs. Its feet pointed east. The metal cube stood among the top leaves and branches of the trees.
“It must know we are here,” whispered Bar-thur in a low rumble.
“They will be pouring out in a minute.”  Hoopy softly snarled.
“Be still!” whispered Pata-Pikki. ‘Have mercy on us!’ he said deep inside. ‘We are in trouble.’ Pata-Pikki felt a wash of peace soothe his agitation. Somehow, the Narflbots were unaware of them.
“It seems The One Who Lives wants us to be at peace," Pata-Piki whispered softly.
“Let’s sit and wait it out,” Nonna chirped back. “I have the same sense–they don’t know we are here.” She sat down, pulled her red hair behind her neck, and stared at the flying machine suspiciously.
Hoopy dug a shallow hole, pulled something out of his pack, and began chewing it. Flur-Ella looked at Hoopy’s root with interest and pawed through her bag. Finding a Scruffling stick, she chewed on it. Pata-Pikki offered one to Nonna; she nodded her thanks.
“I wonder how long we will have to wait?” Flur-Ella sighed silently to herself.
They sat in silence. Occasionally, they heard quiet whirrings, hums, and beeping above them. Morning turned into the afternoon -suddenly, a loud hum came from the interior of the Strange Contraptor. Buzzing, chimes, and roars hovered around them.
“Do you think they are coming out?” Bar-thur gruffed as quietly as he could, adjusting his muffler. His ears lay back along his head; his eyes narrowed as he looked out from under furrowed brows.
Nonna listened like she was listening to something they could not hear. “No,” she whispered, “they are moving to a new location.”
Unexpectedly, the Contraptor’s bird-like legs telescoped up, bent, as if a giant bird was springing into the air to fly away. Instead, the Strange Contraptor began walking through the trees, crushing vegetation on the ground, and tearing off branches. It turned and walked north. They could hear it moving through the forest. Birds flew up, crying and sounding the alarm.
“Now,” said Pata-Pikki, “south! Move softly.” A breeze sighed around his head in affirmation.
The Forest Beings dropped to their four feet as they descended downhill and southward, as Nonna hunched over, keeping a low profile.
They resumed their easterly direction after they had reached a canopy of trees. Climbing, they topped a ridge and dropped into the forest’s shadows again. At last, they stopped by a stream as dusk gathered around them.
“Nonna, can you see in the dark?” Pata-Pikki asked, pulling his muffler tighter.
“No, unless we have a bright moon.”
“Then we will pass the night here. We know the Narflbots dislike darkness; they will not search at night.” They sat under a tree and shared their food.
 
 

 
“She is a pretty creature,” Flur-Ella snuffled, looking at her. “I have never seen a Wilding. She looks like a Narflbot but has no metal parts.” There was a way of being that seemed light, full of motion and intricacy, significantly different from a Narflbot. Long reddish-orange hair covered her head and fell abundantly across the grass. A green suit of a skin-like fabric covered her body, circled her waist, and fell below her knees in its length. On her feet were brown coverings that ended at the top of her ankles. Her hands and face were a soft, earthy hue.

“She doesn’t look dangerous,” wuffed Hoopy. “We will have to carry her, and Bar-thur, you are the only one that can do that.”

Pata-Pikki sniffed her face and touched her with his paw. “Yes,” he agreed.

“Can we strap her on my back?” Bar-thur asked.

Pata-Pikki looked in his bag. “I have some grass rope here,” he said, pawing through roots and bark slabs. A writing tool fell out on the ground, which he set carefully back inside.

Bar-thur, the bear, knelt on the ground, and the three Scrufflings slid the Wilding onto his back, wrapped the grass cording around many times, and knotted it. They tested it.  She seemed secure.

Flur-Ella warned softly, “The sky is growing light in the east.” 

They entered the forest, following the rising sun with the Wilding on Bar-thur’s back. Breaking out of the trees, they crossed the Lowland Meadows, traveling on four legs to improve their speed. Down they went into the Boggish Brack. They were glad to have the cover of the vines and scrubby leaflings over their heads. Light flashed off ponds, and cattails rose from the boggy, foggy places as the sun climbed in the sky.

The Wilding made low moaning sounds. “Do you think she is all right?” snuffled Flur-Ella with a worried expression.

“Keep moving,” barked Pata-Pikki. “We need distance!”

When they reached the eastern side of the Brack, they rested in the shadow of a dense vine.

Suddenly, they saw a flash of light followed by an enormous ‘Ker-whoomph.’ The loud sound continued between lulls, echoing across the hills as the ground shook. Thick growth cut off their view of the forest, but an evil burning smell came to their nostrils, and fine ash sifted through the leaves onto the ground, confirming the burning of the forest and undergrowth. They heard the roar of flames.

Pata-Pikki felt a great sadness overwhelm him. Unhappy memories flooded his mind of troubled times as a pup. Now, his beautiful home in the tree was a smoldering stump or gone, and so were his records of bird conversations and songs. The forest was burning. The Narflbots dropped fire from the air. How could the Scrufflings counter their flying machines and explosions? They looked at one another with an understanding of their losses, and tears filled their eyes. It was a comfort to remember Meem’s words for the Scrufflings, The One Who Lives desires they live in peace.

“Where to now?” Bar-thur finally said gruffly, clearing his throat.

“We keep moving,” Pata-Pikki whined in sorrow.

Hoopy stretched out toward the sunshine that lay in the tall grass beyond. “Nothing above us,” he growled, “but smoke.”

“Follow the sun!” Pata-Pikki barked.

As Bar-thur got to his feet, the Wilding moaned again. “Look at the cord and be sure it is still tight enough to hold her,” Bar-thur bumbled.

Hoopy checked and nodded with an affirmative growl. As he stepped into the sunlight, they heard a Strange Contraptor overhead. The Scrufflings froze as they heard it fly over the meadow and into the trees before them. It made a wide circle and flew back in the direction it had come.

Pata-Pikki uttered a low growl as Hoopy stretched carefully into the light again to see where it was going. “We had better stay under the vines for cover,” Hoopy whined in a low tone.
“We can follow the line of the bog and go towards that hill,” Flur-Ella pointed out.
Pata-Pikki nodded at her wisdom, and in a zigzag fashion, they followed the bog into the valley. A stream issued forth from the Brack, and a line of trees grew along its edges.  High cliffs rose on either side. They followed the stream, which ran a distance, and poured into a waterfall, forming a deep, rocky pool. Clambering down the fall’s edge, they listened and watched for a sign of the enemy.

The Wilding on Bar-thur’s back made sounds and moved. “We will have to stop. Perhaps she can walk now?” Flur-Ella snuffed, wagging her tail.
Bar-thur lay down on the grass beside the stream as the three Scrufflings untied her. She slid off the bear’s back to the ground.

“Water?” she said distinctly, beginning to raise herself to a sitting position. The Scrufflings and Bar-thur looked surprised that she knew their language and were temporarily speechless. “May I have some water?” she asked again.

“Of course!” Flur-Ella barked. Flur-Ella pulled a hollow wooden cup out of her sack and rushed to the stream. She dipped it in and brought water to the Wilding.

“Thank you,” the Wilding said softly, sounding like a bird singing. She turned towards them. Her mouth moved up into a curve, and her eyes lit up. “Thank you for helping me.”

“Are you better?” Pata-Pikki woofed with concern. His deep eyes took her in. ‘Yes,’ he thought, feeling his question deeply; there was something special about her. The One Who Lives had a great love for her.

“I don’t know if I can walk. My legs are numb.” She pushed herself upright. “If I can get my feet working, maybe I can,” she said, stamping her feet and running her fingers through her red-orange hair.

Bar-thur got to his feet. “Thank you for carrying me!” she said, patting his nose. “Where are we?”

“We are traveling east from our forest,” Pata-Pikki woofed. “It will be safer further east.”

“We are going the right way. My home is to the east!” the Wilding said. “My name is Nonna.”

Hoopy stood up and bowed so low his long ears nearly touched his toes. He introduced each in the company to Nonna. 
Flur-Ella woofed at Nonna, “How was it that the Narflbots trapped you?”

“I live in a valley in the Rocliffs to the east. We are farmers and live hidden, protected by The One, the High King, Yeshua. The Narflbots have tried to find us, but they cannot. To enemy eyes, our valley is invisible. They see the Rocliffs as impassable canyons, as I heard one of them describe it.”

“Then it is no wonder that they seem to search in the same direction that we travel. We had a Strange Contraptor go over our heads as we were in the Brack,” woofed Hoopy. 

“I was looking for the Farmer Man, who makes and repairs wooden plows. Ours, over many years of use, has a broken part. The Farmer Man bends wood and makes wonderful useful tools. He may have been a Narflbot that escaped or a Wilding that grew up with them, as he has many metal parts to his body, both inward and outward.” 

“Growing things and making beautiful gardens, such as I have rarely seen, is his delight. Before the Smothering Fire, there must have been many gardens like his. Our books show gardens and unusual plants that must have grown then.”

“What is a book?” barked Hoopy.

“It is a collection of knowledge or stories, on paper, bound together,” Nonna responded.

“I want to see a book; do they taste good?” Hoopy persisted.

“They are not for eating,” Flur-Ella gruffled aloofly. “They are for understanding. I have heard about books.”

“Go on with your story,” coaxed Bar-thur.

“I wandered too far to the west looking for the Farmer Man and directly into a patrol of Narflbots. That place has many old metal beeping boxes in it. They gather those things to make their machines. Some had wandered into the wood looking for water and surprised me. They froze me with one of their pointing sticks so I could not run from them or hide. They steal and make our women and children their own, as they have neither.”

“The head of the patrol sent me to the High Narflbot for questioning because I was near the eastern border. They questioned me, became angry, yelled, and kicked me, but I did not answer. Then they shot my head at the neck, here.” Nonna pointed to the back of her neck. “I remembered nothing after that. I am thankful that you freed me. You spoke of a forest; they must have carried me there.” She smiled at them. Her eyes were alight, and her joy was infectious. “Thank you for your help!”

“You are welcome to come to my home in the fortress of the cliffs that protect us. Mihael is the name of my home. There are other communities as well.” said Nonna. “I understood your talk about your forest. You and the others have given up a lot to help me. Perhaps I can help you. Will you come with me?”

“Thank you for this invitation. At least we will see you safely home,” Pata-Pikki gruffed.
 

 
“Are you ready, then?” Pata-Pikki asked the forest creatures who had gathered around the tunnel. Looking down, he saw a small rabbit at his feet. “Whose rabbit-ling is this? Find your mother, little one.” A young mother rabbit hastened to the front and pulled the small one by the paw back into the group, reminding her to stay close.

“You have your wears, your food?” Pata-Pikki resumed, “Have you planned where you are going? Our group will take the Wilding to a forest to the east.”

“A grievous thing is before us.” He studied them with his deep brown eyes. “This forest is dear to me, to all of us. I cannot take my research barks. Losing so many rare bird translations seems a step backward.  But the One Who Lives knows what is best for us as a community.”

They looked at the cage, the cause of their grief. The Wilding lay directly in the center. “Poor thing,” Hoopy said.

The blue plastic tube encased the Wilding, who was barely moving, except for the rise and fall of its chest. Pata-Pikki paused; his mind drifted into his heart. Speaking to The One Who Lives, he asked, “Guide us. Help the Wilding. Once the Narflbots know what we have done, we must make great haste." 

"May the One bless all of us who travel.”
 He gave a low bark and said, “You should go. The Rovers will sound an alarm, and the Narflbots will be on us. Dear friends, be of good heart; we will meet again,” Pata-Pikki woofed. “Bar-thur, Hoopy, and I will be enough to take the Wilding to a place where it can find its way home.”

“Can I be of help?” snuffled Flur-Ella, a Scruffling of the dog family, wearing a jacket of woven marsh flowers. Long eyelashes swept over her sparkling, warm eyes. A tan mustache and floppy ears added beauty to her face. She was a far-removed cousin of Pata-Pikki’s.

“Flur-Ella is good at little things,” gruffed Pata-Pikki aloud. “Yes, this is good. She will travel with us.”

Pata-Pikki looked down and saw the same young rabbit looking up at him. “What is your name, young one?” he asked. “Lou-me,” came a small whiskery voice. “Lou-me, find your mother and stay close to her, or you will get lost. We will have time to talk when I see you again.” Pata-Pikki smiled at her. “Be careful and mind your mother, youngling.”

The Forest Folk melted back into the forest with sad eyes at their departure.

Pata-Pikki motioned to Hoopy, and together they entered the deep underground tunnel that the gophers, rabbits, red fox, Hoopy, and Bar-thur had created. Soon they stood in the darkness at the end of the tunnel. Pata-Pikki, asking The One Who Lives for discernment, made the secret sign on the dirt ceiling with his paw.

“This is the place, Hoopy. Carefully see if you can make a hole. Remember the Cold Burning Light is above; when the Wilding drops through the floor, run with it. The beam should disengage, but sometimes it stays connected. The Burning Light is painful; it will freeze us on the spot if we do not hurry.”

Hoopy began to claw gently at the dirt ceiling above them while dirt fell to the floor. 

“I feel something here, Pata-Pikki. There is a buzzing like angry bees!”

“We are underneath him, then. It is the Cold Burning Light! Let him fall through–there is no other way. We will remove the dirt from under him. If you feel any pain at all, you are too close.”

“I will start here if you take the other side. By The One Who Lives, may the Wilding fall through before we dig too far in--be wary of the Burning Light.”

They started taking soft swipes with their paws and knocking away the dirt ceiling while crumbles of dirt rained down on them.

Hoopy motioned for Pata-Pikki to stand back. As he did, suddenly, with a crash, a long, blue-wrapped object tumbled through the ceiling. Hoopy and Pata-Pikki reached for it and pulled with all their might, dragging the creature towards the opening of the fifteen-foot tunnel. They whined as they ran, for the Cold Burning Light scorched as they pulled the Wilding down the tunnel toward the exit. Suddenly, the pain left them. Setting it down, panting, they stooped over and examined the thick blue plastic case with a small hole in the face area for breathing. They could see no other opening.

Hoopy shook his head in disbelief, “How will we get it out of that?”

“There has to be a way!” Pata-Pikki barked.

They reached the tunnel's opening and pulled the Wilding up into the forest.

Bar-thur and Flur-Ella came close and looked at the blue film-coated Wilding.

“How will this come off?” Bar-thur growled, and then surprised at what he was seeing, he said, “I have never seen a Wilding before.”

“I can chew the blue skin off at the foot, and maybe it will peel?” gruffed Hoopy.

“What is this?” Flur-Ella pushed a tiny pink button on the heel of the blue case that encased the Wilding. Suddenly the blue case moved in different directions and folded itself into a small package, spitting out the Wilding inside. “Don’t touch the package,” Pata-Pikki cautioned as Hoopy bent to pick it up. “I don’t trust it. It may have some trick to it; we do not know. The less we have to do with the implements of the evil Narflbots, the better off we are. They have devious devices built within their machines.” 

“Look,” said Flur-Ella. “This Wilding is a daughter, not a son!”

Hoopy uttered a woof of surprise. “Look, a Wilding!” The shape was easily identifiable. “I haven’t seen many of those. No wonder it is in a cage. I have heard that you have to be careful of them.”
Pata-Pikki studied the shape of the creature lying in the cage’s bottom. It was long and thin and wrapped in a blue case. No strange nor unsightly bulges revealed metal additions or beeping lights, so it was not a Narflbot but a similar being, a Wilding. Some force held the plastic-wrapped body in place as it lay stiffly at the bottom of the cage. 
Lying silently on his belly, Pata-Pikki asked The One Who Lives from the depth of his heart for understanding as Hoopy was talking. ‘This is a special creature who needs help. He is important to You; how can we help him escape?’
‘Gophers,’ came an answer to his heart.
If the Wilding disappeared, Pata-Pikki thought, the Narflbots would uproot the trees in the forest looking for him. The creatures scattered through the trees and meadows would lose their homes and lives. The One Who Lives acknowledged, ‘Yes, this is true.’ 
Tears formed in Pata-Pikki’s eyes, and he felt a sob come up from his throat. The arrival of the Narflbots marked the end of this forest. Scrufflings had lived in this forest for generations, even since the Smothering Fire long ago, which changed much of life. Mustaches and fur at the end of tails were reminders of it. Before the Smothering Fire, all animals had fur on their bodies. The Scrufflings were animals who had lived under man’s protection and had given and received love from them. Love had changed the Scrufflings. Men had disappeared as far as Pata-Pikki knew. He had never seen a man, though the love that they had given lived deep within him, as it had for generations of Scrufflings before him. 
Scrufflings formed communities often in deep forests, drawing other animals to them, who benefited from what they knew. This forest was one of these communities. Scrufflings acted in love, serving and accepting one another despite their differences in appearance.
The Scrufflings and Forest Beings, who had learned from the Scrufflings, protected themselves from changes in the weather and made ‘wears’ from plant fiber found in the forests and meadows, which emerged after the Smothering Fire. A guild of weavers, both birds and animals, appeared. What had been front-leg paws in former generations of animals were now more flexible for constructing and writing things important to their well-being and the well-being of their communities. 
They walked upright, rather than solely on four legs, as their ancestors had done, to protect and use their front paws. Standing was a formal and correct way of behavior. For their survival, planning had value, and they depended on it to create structure and build communities.
‘Where will we go?’ Pata-Pikki asked The One Who Lives. There was no answer, which Pata-Pikki knew by experience meant he needed to be patient. The One Who Lives would give him that answer when he needed to know.
Pata-Pikki turned to his friend. “Hoopy, we need to help this Wilding.”
Hoopy looked back at Pata-Pikki in surprised horror. “Are you mad? The Narflbots will destroy us and the forest.”
Pata-Pikki moaned. “That is what they do. They cannot stand forests or creatures. Once they have moved into a place, they destroy the natural world around them and put their black road over everything. We will all have to move to a different forest and find new homes. We will go further east. They don’t like the east for some reason.”
“Hoopy, you know I speak truly. Call the Forest together in council. The One Who Lives tells me we must leave.” Pata-Pikki looked deeply into Hoopy’s eyes with conviction.
At first, Hoopy looked puzzled and a little afraid of the seriousness of what they were about to do. Then, lifting his head, he howled into the night air, a high-pitched, almost inaudible sound. The forest creatures became alert and dropped what they did at the cry.
Pata-Pikki and Hoopy ran through the forest to the top of the Nob. Already there were many Scrufflings and Forest Folk had gathered. Pata-Pikki was among the forest leaders, although he was younger than most. The creatures felt he seemed to have a higher sense, which many Scrufflings had not developed to the same level. Perhaps his interest in pursuing hard-to-understand and nearly silent languages, helped develop this skill. The One Who Lives seemed to favor him because Pata-Pikki continually sought Him and often gave him answers to complex problems.
High Horns the deer, the leader of the Scrufflings of the Forest, Meem, leader of the Cat folk, Bar-thur the bear, and even Flur-Ella, Pata-Pikki’s very distant cousin, were there, along with others large and small, mingling and moving together, quietly questioning, and curious. Hearing about the cage, they discussed and debated far into the night, discussing the strange Wilding in the blue wrapping. They were afraid to leave and afraid to stay. Should they attack the Narflbots when they return, bite, tear, peck, and frighten them? Pata-Pikki told the story of the forest he had lived in before he had come to this one. There had been a tremendous loss of Scrufflings and the forest itself. Explosions had come from above without the Narflbots ever setting foot in the woods. Fires raged quickly through the trees and destroyed the community where he was born, killing many inhabitants. He was one of the fortunate ones who escaped.
“We must leave and take the Wilding with us,” Pata-Pikki concluded. 
High-Horns of the Deer Folk spoke. His long, willow cape flowed out behind him. “Pata-Pikki’s experience shows us what we must do.” 
The birds and creatures were silent. What could they say against an enemy that they could not fight? That left trying to contain an uncontrollable fire. There seemed to be no other choice.
“Perhaps we can go to the Narflbot home and destroy their flying whirlies,” said the smallest field mouse.
Meem, wrapped in a soft moss jacket, stood and hissed angrily. “Pata-Pikki has heard. We must help this Wilding, despite the cost. The One Who Lives will guide us; it will be better where the Narflbots are not. If they came once, with or without the cage, they are coming back. To destroy their whirlies, we would have to go to the center of their kingdom. There would be much loss of life even approaching them. We do not have the tools for war. The One Who Lives has asked us to live in peace. That is our calling in the life He has given us.” 
Then suddenly, they all saw the truth in this. Narflbots destroyed forests and the creatures within them; that is what they would do to this forest. Their lives could not continue the way they had. It had already radically changed. The forest was no longer a place they could live.
“Take a small supply of food with you, as we need to hasten our escape. Bring a change of wears. We must travel light and be agile. The One Who Lives will help us and direct us. We must be ready at dawn or before,” Pata-Piki softly barked. “Other Narflbots will come in the new day to push the forest back with their black roads and burn it away. They will drop explosions on it until they know everything is dead. When we remove the Wilding, they will certainly come. If we do nothing, they will kill us with fire. We cannot survive. The Narflbots rarely come until the sun is high or after; they do not like darkness. However, they travel in the dark if they must. Go now to your homes and gather your things. Tie them in a bag so you are ready to travel. We will divide and leave in small groups not drawing attention to our leaving.”
“Gophers will dig under Hatch’s tree, and the Rovers that watch on top of the cage will not see them digging; the trees will cover their activity. Watchers do not see well in the dark, so we are fortunate that the moon is new. Those who dig will tunnel under the cage. As they move forward, Bar-thur the bear, Hoopy, and all who are larger and good diggers will remove the loose dirt to make room to carry out the Wilding. Bar-thur, yours will be the final clearing, for you are our largest digger.” 
“There is something that holds the Wilding on the ground. We must be careful about touching it. I fear it is the Cold Hurting Light. It freezes and shocks the person in its path. Hopefully, the bond will break when it falls into the tunnel by the Grace of The One Who Lives. We will drag him through the tunnel - this may cause pain to those who pull him until the beam is out of contact.” They nodded in sad agreement, but this seemed the best plan. 
“If you fox, you, and rabbit will pass in front of the Rovers further out in the field occasionally, it will draw the attention of the Rovers away from the hole. Their eyes will be looking outward. Do not come too close; they will send a silent alarm, and the Narflbots will be on us!”
Bar-thur hitched up his bark pants, which tended to slide down, and growled in consent, “I will dig and clear.” 
Hoopy barked in excitement, “I am an excellent digger! We will all work together to accomplish the freedom of the Wilding.” The red fox smiled from ear to ear to think they would have such an adventure, and the rabbits thumped in excitement. 
The Gophers, of which there were many, squealed eagerly to one another in excitement. “Before the morning star comes into the sky, we will gather at Hatch’s tree,” Pata-Pikki directed.
The Forest Beings separated and went in several directions, gathering what they needed for their journey. Clothing was important to them in the cold of winter, especially since they would be without a home. 
Soon they gathered under Hatch’s tree and began work on the tunnel. Well before the first star, the Gophers had made a large hole and were already out of sight. Several rabbits joined in the tighter digging phase, expanding the passageway.
Hoopy jumped into the hole and dug with all his might, growling. Dirt was flying everywhere. After a short time, his head stuck out of the pit. His tongue hung out, and he wore a smile of joy.
“Bar-thur,” he barked. “There is a lot of loose soil in here. Can you bring it to the surface?” The bear crawled into the hole and pulled a quantity of dirt out of the now sizeable hole. In this manner, they continued into the night until the chief Gopher came out and spoke to them.
“It is ready. We believe the cage floor is a short distance above, and we’ve enlarged the hole to make room for Pata-Pikki and Hoopy. We don’t dare do more without tumbling the cage into the hole.”
 

​The Narflbots continued unpacking the Strange Contraptor for the rest of the day. Afterward, there was much scurrying around. They were constructing something horrible, and seemed nervous about being in a wild wood. They did not like the forest.

‘Good,’ Pata-Pikki thought. He was glad that they were uncomfortable. They were not welcome here. But both Pata-Pikki and Hoopy were curious.

 Hatch flew back and forth between their window and the meadow, reporting what she saw. Fire  flared, and beepings of machines came from the construction. It was nest-building time. This intruder was destructive and worrisome, and was building something right next to her home. 

“What about my fledglings?” she peeped in an alarmed chirp. “They will forget their songs and know only scratchings and beeps.” She hit low notes, showing her concern.

“Patience, dear Hatch,” Pata-Pikki woofed, trying to console her.

“We’ll show them whose forest this is!” Hoopy growled. “Wait a bit; this will all change, Hatch. Don’t worry about your fledglings!” He snarled with consolation when he understood what she was saying. He began scratching violently in sympathy. Pata-Pikki’s eyes grew large with concern for Hatch’s sadness and the deep scratch marks on his polished wooden floor.

As the sunlight faded from the meadow, the Strange Contraptor sprang to life. All the Narflbots eagerly trooped single file into its mouth, and the door slammed shut with a loud snap. The Contraptor’s legs straightened, and the whirly at the top spun. Then the Strange Contraptor flew straight up into the sky. Pata-Pikki and Hoopy threw caution to the wind and ran outside.

The Strange Contraptor rose quickly and then zing - off it shot, in a straight line traveling west.

“There they go, for now,” Pata-Pikki squeaked in relief.

“Let’s investigate!” barked Hoopy, calling over his shoulder. Out he ran, straight across the meadow toward the Narflbot’s construction. Pata-Pikki who followed him, felt uncertain. He didn’t want to rush up on it. Gradually he stopped. “What’s the matter?” Hoopy barked, turning back.

“They likely have a guard alarm of some sort,” Pata-Pikki responded quickly with a low howl. He knew what to expect from Narflbots; he had learned it from  frightening experience.

“Of course!” Hoopy snarled, looking a little worried. “Why didn’t I think of that?” Pata-Pikki sat down in the meadow with a disturbed look. Something was moving; it was not the grass that blew in the light breeze, but something else. “Quiet,” he softly whined.

Hoopy dropped to the grass. Pata-Pikki did the same. It was almost dark now. Gradually his eyes moved up to the upper rim of what seemed a cage. Suddenly he saw the motion sensors guarding what was inside. Rovers! They seemed to be looking down. The two Scrufflings remained motionless, not wanting to attract the Rover's attention.

In Pata-Pikki’s experience, Rovers could see in many directions but could not move. Somehow, the Narflbots that monitored them responded to a quiet warning they made. He crawled up next to Hoopy. “Rovers!” he whined, voicing his concern. Now he knew that something, or someone was being guarded. This was a cage. He felt compassion for the creature inside, encased in something blue. 

“That creature needs help,” Pata-Pikki whispered. A soft breeze ruffled the fur at the bottom of his ears.

“The forest,” whispered the wind in a soft, brushy voice.

Motioning for Hoopy to follow him, he crawled into the forest. Once under cover, they dodged oak trees and birch, jumping low currant and raspberry bushes. Climbing over large boulders and around forest growth, they soon stood directly under Hatch’s tree. Now the Rovers could not see them, but they could see what lay at the bottom of the cage.

The flutter of birdsong whistled in Pata-Pikki’s memory. Accompanying it was a persistent squeaking of branches against the tree where he lived. The wind was trying to get his attention. It moaned as it blew across his front door in the massive oak tree. Irritated at the interruption, he set down the gouge he was using on the wooden tablet. He was recording the notes of the song he had heard from an unusual bird the day before. Instead, he ran up the steps, circling the trunk inside. His grass muffler and woven bark pants felt good in the cool air.

The small dog-like creature, a Scruffling, stopped and peered from the bottom most window next to the lowest branch. His view was of the meadow and the forest beyond.

The wind hit his black whiskers and flipped his long black ears into his eyes, temporarily blinding him. What was happening? He suddenly felt afraid. Shaking his ears out of his eyes, he approached the window again, this time cautiously. Then he saw what the wind was trying to convey through The One Who Lives. A Strange Contraptor, one of the flying machines of the enemy, had landed in the meadow, and he hadn’t even heard it. 

It sat with telescoping bird-like legs on its silver haunches. Its cubical bulk rested on the grass, and the whirly on top moved only slightly. Shaggy-looking Narflbots, long creatures with thin legs, arms, and furry bodysuits for warmth, moved in and out of the tall doorway. They carried metal boxes on their heads while balancing them with long arms. The sound of whirring noises and beeps filled the air.

“Narflbots! What are they doing? They are a long way from their city, and in our forest! What are they up to?” Pata-Pikki narrowed his eyes, twitched his nose, waited, and watched. He was curious. ‘What are they doing?’

The wind whispered something; “What?” Pata-Pikki whined. The north wind spoke with an extra sigh and whisper, which was part of its language. The south wind was much easier to understand, but it was winter. Pata-Pikki had trouble with the long-drawn-out sighs of the north wind. He shook his head in frustration, pausing; and listened to his heart. The One Who Lives, usually far away, was here. Pata-Pikki felt warmth and His presence. The One Who Lives wanted him to be watchful and investigate.

A feathered nuthatch landed on the tree trunk. Hanging upside down, it looked in the window and chirped. It was just a little bird and a curious one. “Pata-Pikki, Pata-Pikki, where are you? Narflbots are in our meadow!”

“I see them, Hatch! Shh, not so loud. We don’t want them to think we care. I wonder if Hoopy knows. Fly to his cave and tell him. I’ll keep watch and see what they are doing.”

“Nothing good will come of it- all their boxes with noises and whirrings, how irritating and loud,” peeped Hatch with indignation, fixing Pata-Pikki with the sharp glint of her eye.

“Tell Hoopy to hurry,” Pata-Pikki called softly after Hatch, who flitted away into the depth of the forest. Pata-Pikki remembered when he and Hoopy were pups. Hoopy maintained an unusually long name, Hoop-Hop-Hark-Oona, given to him by a distantly removed aunt. Pata-Pikki and the Forest-Beings called him Hoopy instead. With all honor due to his great-great aunt, it was much easier to say and made it far easier to get to the heart of a conversation.

Pata-Pikki paced up and down inside the trunk as he waited Hoopy. His mind kept returning to the exciting bird song and conversation he was translating, while at the same time, he worried about the Strange Contraptor in the meadow. Happily, he soon heard scratching and scraping at the hole's entrance in the trunk’s base. He ran down the stair to his front door.

A bowlegged Scruffling, who looked somewhat like Pata-Pikki, stood in the entryway with a white, bristly mustache, a barrel chest, and earmuffs of cattail fluff on top of his floppy white ears.  “Narflbots!” Hoopy growled. “Why don’t they stay in their kingdom?” Angrily, he scruffed at the floor with his hind feet as his tail curled tightly.

“Mind the entrance, Hoopy!” Pata-Pikki cried in alarm, looking pleadingly at him with his dark brown eyes. “Every time you come in, you make the door larger and deeper. Soon even Bar-thur, the bear, will fit inside.” 
Suddenly coming to the point, Pata-Pikki barked “We need to do something! The One Who Lives wants us to be watchful; we may need to act. The Narflbots are up to no good.”
​