At the first pale shimmer of dawn, the hedgehog at last came upon the place the nightingale had appointed for him. Long had he strayed in the deep and tangled forest, losing his way among its restless shadows. The moon, which only moments before had cast a gentle silver upon his path, was now smothered behind heavy clouds swollen with rain. They stretched across the heavens like a great, dark mantle. Though the storm had not yet broken, a distant muttering of thunder rolled somewhere beyond the edge of the world. More than once he crossed paths with frightened rabbits, hastening through the underbrush in search of pasture or burrow before the first cold drops should fall. When at last he reached the old tree where he had spoken with the nightingale the day before, he saw that a small owl stood upon one of its branches. She perched there quite still, blinking her yellow eyes now and again, the pupils narrowing like slits of amber. “About time! I have waited far too long,” she cried, shaking out her feathers with an irritable rustle. “The Nightingale sent me. Your friend has been found—she needs your help.” “Then take me to her at once!” Yoshi exclaimed, his voice bright with relief. “Yes… the hour is upon us,” murmured the owl. “Dawn soon will break, and the rain will not be far behind, and I have yet to return to my hollow. Keep pace if you can.” Without waiting to see whether he indeed could follow, she launched herself into the dim air, gliding ahead as lightly as a drifting shadow.
Yoshi ran as fast as his short legs could carry him, stumbling and tumbling through the dim underbrush—sometimes losing the owl’s trail, and sometimes glimpsing again at those two yellow eyes gleaming from a branch where the creature had paused, as though impatient for him to catch up. “Hurry, hurry!” urged the bird, its voice sharp as dawnlight. “Do you not see that morning is upon us?” At last Yoshi noticed the owl waiting at the very edge of the forest, perched upon a leaning tree. It bobbed its head once, beckoning him nearer. Panting, Yoshi finally reached the tree—and there he saw Thumbelina. The poor turtle had toppled onto her shell and lay flailing helplessly, her legs thrust stiff into the air as she made vain, weary attempts to right herself. Her little feet paddled at nothing, as though she fought some unseen tide. “Is that you?” she groaned, for even in her weariness she knew the little hedgehog’s shape. “Oh, I’ve been tormented near to madness by that cursed she-wolf. Why are you staring at me? Or would you have me stand like this for another two days?” At that Yoshi gave her a gentle nudge with his snout, as if urging her back to life, and then leapt upon all fours with such sudden, rough joy that he looked for a moment like a small bear capering in the dusk.
“I didn’t believe I would see you alive, my dear,” he said, joy warming his worn voice. “Into every hollow and thicket I have searched, and what hardships I suffered until I found you again. Yet no matter—what’s done is done, and we are together once more.” “Oh, the burden I have borne! Yours is but a feather compared to mine,” groaned Thumbelina. “That cursed she-wolf sank her teeth into me and near cracked my trough asunder. And when at last she loosed her grip, over I toppled onto my back, and there I have stood—aye, one whole day and all night long. I cried out, and cried again for help, yet you were nowhere to be found. This is ill indeed, Yoshi, ill indeed.” “Thank the owl, for she guided me here,” murmured the hedgehog. “Murm, murm…” came the mocking trill of the Nightingale, drifting from the shadowed branches above like a taunt borne on twilight air. “Do not forget your friends,” chirped the bird, its voice warm as a hearth-fire. “The owl lent her wisdom, true enough—but without me you would never have found your companion.” “Forgive me,” said Yoshi, lowering his head. “She told me you had sent her. I am grateful to her, but most of all to you.” A wind rose then, wandering through the forest like a restless spirit. The leaves whispered together, and the tall boughs swayed as though uneasy. “Hurry—there is a storm upon us,” warned the Nightingale. Her words drifted away, swallowed by the gathering howl of the wind. Yoshi and Thumbelina set off to find shelter as the rain began to fall: great heavy drops striking the leaves with slow, booming splashes, each one louder than the last, until the whole forest seemed to echo with their steady, drumming fall. The storm kept them from fully rejoicing in their newfound bond, yet each felt a quiet gladness simply to have found the other. They passed the place where the owl had been torn apart, and, skirting the edge of the clearing, slipped once more beneath the shelter of the trees. There, upon a low hump of earth thick with bramble and bush, they came suddenly upon a narrow path. Driven on by thunder growling behind them and the flicker of pale lightning among the branches, they followed the trail without pause or question. Soon it brought them to an embankment, well-trodden and strangely clean, above which yawned the dark mouth of a rather large hole. Then the rain came—swift and heavy, as if some unseen hand had overturned a great bucket from the sky. With no time left for doubt or fear, they hastened forward and stepped into the waiting darkness…
Thumbelina and Yoshi
Viciousella
The Ant's Help
Ungrateful Neighbors
Unexpected Air Journey
The Mysterious Aunt
Sly
Who Is Hiding In The Reeds
The Unpleasant Acquaintance
A Bad Tribe
The Herons
More Acquaintances
How Thumbelina Got Lost
The Little Divers
With The Squirrels
Bandits Of The Night
The Death Of Uncle Fuzzball
The Owl's Punishment
How Mram The She-Wolf Ate Him
Meeting With The Nightjar
The Masterful Surgeon
Yoshi Finds Thumbelina
The Lonely Dweller
High In The Mountain
Deers
At The Home Field