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.”
​