Duncan of Pigweed Manor

Eventually, scratched, exhausted, and thoroughly discouraged, Duncan leaned against a tree, and took out the pigweed sandwich George had made for him. He knew the little mouse had used the last bit of pigweed, and it didn’t do much for Duncan’s hunger, but he was comforted by the reminder of home. While looking up through the branches of the trees, to get a fix on the sun, to be sure he was still headed east, Duncan felt a tickle on his ankle, then a tug. He looked down, and saw the thorny undergrowth—the blackberries, the brambles—roiling about his feet like a bed of slithering snakes. A particularly aggressive strand of kudzu vine had clasped his leg, and was winding its way up. Duncan yelped, and hacked at it with his knife. From above, the huge maples reached down their long limbs towards him, the oaks pelted him with acorns, and the chestnuts scraped him with their prickly fruit. Panic gripped him. He was being captured. The forest was taking him prisoner! * * * “Grow vines, grow!” screeched Ogwen, hopping from foot to foot. She had been following Duncan’s progress all morning through her Far-Seeing Glasses, and was dancing with glee. “I shall bury you in vines!” she shouted. “Bury you! How dare you think you can outwit Ogwen, Princess of Evil, Queen of All Things Dark and Terrible!” * * * The trees and vines eventually ensnared Duncan’s whole body, and jerked the knife from his hand. It became harder and harder to breath. Reuben’s ring pressed sharply into his finger. Duncan was just about to give it a twist, when he heard a no-nonsense but not unfriendly voice come up from below. “Well, well, you’ve certainly got yourself in a fine mess,” it said. Straining to see out of the corner of his eye, Duncan could just make out a patch of ruddy fur at his feet. “I’m stuck,” Duncan gasped. “So I see,” came back the voice with philosophical calm. “So I see.” “I’m afraid there is no way out,” bleated Duncan, his voice trembling with despair, his body burning with pain. “I’m going to die here!” “What a load of old nonsense,” said the voice. “I shall have you out in no time. No time at all. It’s all a question of staying calm, and knowing what to do.” Duncan could feel soft paws pulling the vines from his body, and soon he was face to face with two of the brightest eyes he had ever seen. “I’m Russell,” said the small, neat animal. “Russell J. Fox—at your service.” “I’m Duncan,” said the little boy, rubbing his skin where the vines had chaffed. “Duncan of Pigweed Manor. Thank you for saving me.” He looked around at the solid wall of ragged forest. “How did you get in here? And, how do we get out? “Duncan yanked himself back as another vine began curling around his foot. “Duncan, my friend,” said Russell. “Through every tangle in life, there is always a path. Follow me.” And the fox disappeared beneath the tumble of seething trees, bushes and vines. Duncan dropped to his hands and knees, and scrambled after him. The foliage clawed at him, and his back ached from the cramped trail and the weight of the corn sack, but he kept going. Soon they broke out of the wood onto a large, flat plain. Duncan stood up, and drew in a breath of relief as he surveyed the odd, but mercifully treeless landscape before them. Rocks of every description, some just pebbles, others the size of the largest rooms at Pigweed Manor lay strewn about as if dropped like marbles from a giant hand. Duncan didn’t care how ominous it looked. He was thrilled to be out of the creeping forest. “Oh, Russell!” he said, waving his arms about freely. “You saved my life!” “You could have saved your own,” said Russell. “Solving problems is merely a matter of looking for solutions. If you don’t look, you can’t find. Simple as that.” “Well, then, thank you for helping me look,” said Duncan. “Where are we?” “The Land Of Great Boulders,” said Russell, glancing about uneasily. “Myself, I don’t usually come out this far. I prefer the cover of the trees. Besides, strange things go on out here. Or, so I’ve been told.” Duncan hardly listened. How wonderful to look up and see sky, and look down and see feet. He felt ready to take on anything. “Where are you going, anyway?” asked Russell. “To The Land Beyond The Rising Sun,” said Duncan, with a renewed sense of purpose. Russell gasped. “You can’t go there.” “Why not?” said Duncan. “It’s the most evil place in all the world,” babbled Russell, edging closer to the path back into the woods. “They’ll eat you for supper!” He shuddered. “At least, so I’ve been told.” Eat him for supper! Duncan felt his resolve begin to dissolve. “I...I...have to go,” he said. “My friends are counting on me. Reuben told me to go.” “Who’s Reuben?” asked Russell. Duncan opened his mouth to reply, and hesitated. Who was Reuben? He’d always been there but where had he come from? Where had any of his friends at Pigweed Manor come from. Who were they? Who was he? Duncan shook his head to still the chaos of these thoughts, and the words on the statues came to mind: “The key to all of this and more, Beyond The Rising Sun is stored.” “Hello?” said Russell, nudging Duncan’s hand with his cold nose. “Still with me? Who’s this Reuben?” “My friend,” said Duncan. “Some friend,” snorted Russell. “I wouldn’t send my worst enemy out here.” Duncan looked around at the inhospitable land and, for the first time, questioned Reuben’s wisdom. Surely, there was an easier way to get where he needed to go. “Well, you’ve got to be careful,” said Russell. “Very careful, indeed. Especially through this valley. They say things get pretty rocky out here at times.” Boy and Fox bade each other farewell, and Duncan began picking his way through the boulders. “Keep a sharp lookout, my friend,” Russell called after him. “And don’t forget: Every problem has a solution. Through every tangle in life, there is a path. You just have to find it.” Duncan saw a last flick of red tail, and the fox was gone.