The Lost Hedgehog

When the sun slid down behind the hill, the forest turned over and closed its eyes.

Under the old oak tree, behind the round wooden door, a little fox opened his.

"Sun down," whispered Nuno. "Fox up."

He wound his blue scarf twice around his neck, took his lantern pole from its hook, and went out to light the Lantern Path.

His own lantern, on the old oak. Hhhh.

The Bridge. Hhhh. The water turned gold.

The Pond. The Meadow. Pip came down from his tree to keep him company — Pip was a very small squirrel with a very large tail — and they walked on together toward the Stone.

And there, in the very middle of the path, was a ball.

It was a small ball, and a prickly one, and it was shaking a little.

"It's a conker," said Pip. "A cross one."

Nuno lit the Stone lantern — hhhh — so the ball could see who they were. Then he sat down beside it and waited.

After a while a nose came out. Then two black eyes.

"I'm lost," said the hedgehog.

Her name was Bramble. She had gone out to look at the moon, she said, only for a minute, and when she turned round, home was gone.

"Where is home?" asked Nuno.

Bramble thought hard.

"Under a root," she said. "Near some leaves."

Nuno looked at the forest. It was made almost entirely of roots and leaves.

"What does it LOOK like?" asked Pip. "Is it big? Is it up a tree? Mine's up a tree."

"I don't know," said Bramble. "I've only ever seen it from the inside."

"What does it smell like?"

"Apples," said Bramble. "The little sour ones."

"What does it SOUND like?"

Bramble shut her eyes.

"Like water," she said slowly. "Water going over a stone. It goes all night. Grandma says it sings us to sleep."

Nuno and Pip looked at each other.

Water going over a stone.

"The Bridge," said Nuno.

But the Bridge was behind them, a long way back along the path. And ahead of them the Birch lantern was still dark, and the Hilltop lantern, and the forest was waiting for them to be lit.

Nuno looked one way. He looked the other way.

"The lanterns will have to wait a little," he said. "They won't mind."

"But it's dark back there," said Bramble. "I came through it. It was all dark."

"Look," said Nuno.

She looked. Behind them, all the way back through the trees, the path was shining. The Stone. The Meadow. The Pond. Each one a small warm light, and each one showing the way to the next.

"A lantern is a little light that says someone is awake," said Nuno. "And when you're lost, it says one more thing. It says: this is the way back."

So they walked back together, the fox, the squirrel and the hedgehog, from light to light.

Bramble had very short legs. It took a long time. Nuno did not hurry her.

At the Meadow she stopped to sniff. Not yet.

At the Pond she stopped to listen. Not yet.

Then they came round the last bend, and there was the Bridge, with its lantern glowing and the stream slipping over the stones underneath. And beside the stream stood a small crooked apple tree that Nuno had walked past every night of his life.

Bramble's nose went up.

"Apples," she whispered.

Between the roots of the apple tree there was a hole the size of a teacup. From inside it came a soft, steady snoring.

"Grandma didn't even notice I was gone," said Bramble.

She turned round. "Thank you for the lights," she said. And she was gone.

Pip had fallen asleep some time ago. Nuno lifted him onto his back and walked all the way out again, past the Pond, past the Meadow, past the Stone.

The Birch. Hhhh.

And at the very top of the hill sat Oona, the large round owl, waiting beside the last dark lantern with her eyes half closed.

"I'm sorry I'm late," whispered Nuno.

He breathed on the lantern. It woke, warm and yellow.

Oona never said anything. But she began to hum, low and slow, like a stream a long way off.

That was how the forest knew that the night was safe.

Nuno sat beside her and kept watch until the sky grew light.

Then he went down the hill, and at every lantern he breathed in — just a little sip of air — and the light folded itself up and went to sleep.

At the Bridge he stopped and listened. Water over stones. And very faintly, underneath it, two hedgehogs snoring.

He tucked Pip into his nest and went home.

"You were a long time tonight," said Mama Fox. "Was the path longer?"

"Somebody needed walking home," said Nuno.

"Then it was exactly as long as it should be," said Mama Fox. "Sleep well, my night fox."

Nuno curled up in his bed of leaves and put his tail over his nose.

And Nuno slept. All day long.

Pindsvinet der var faret vild

Da solen gled ned bag bakken, vendte skoven sig om på den anden side og lukkede øjnene.

Under det gamle egetræ, bag den runde trædør, åbnede en lille ræv sine.

"Sol ned," hviskede Nuno. "Ræv op."

Han viklede sit blå tørklæde to gange om halsen, tog sin lanternestang ned fra krogen og gik ud for at tænde Lanternestien.

Hans egen lanterne på det gamle egetræ. Hhhh.

Broen. Hhhh. Vandet blev til guld.

Dammen. Engen. Pip kom ned fra sit træ for at holde ham med selskab — Pip var et meget lille egern med en meget stor hale — og de gik videre sammen hen mod Stenen.

Og dér, lige midt på stien, lå der en kugle.

Det var en lille kugle, og en stikkende én, og den rystede en lille smule.

"Det er en kastanje," sagde Pip. "En sur én."

Nuno tændte lanternen ved Stenen — hhhh — så kuglen kunne se, hvem de var. Så satte han sig ved siden af den og ventede.

Lidt efter kom der en snude frem. Og så to sorte øjne.

"Jeg er faret vild," sagde pindsvinet.

Hun hed Bramble. Hun var gået ud for at kigge på månen, sagde hun, kun et øjeblik, og da hun vendte sig om, var hjemme væk.

"Hvor er hjemme?" spurgte Nuno.

Bramble tænkte sig godt om.

"Under en rod," sagde hun. "I nærheden af nogle blade."

Nuno kiggede på skoven. Den bestod næsten kun af rødder og blade.

"Hvordan SER det ud?" spurgte Pip. "Er det stort? Er det oppe i et træ? Mit er oppe i et træ."

"Det ved jeg ikke," sagde Bramble. "Jeg har kun set det indefra."

"Hvordan dufter det?"

"Af æbler," sagde Bramble. "De små sure."

"Hvordan LYDER det?"

Bramble lukkede øjnene.

"Som vand," sagde hun langsomt. "Vand, der løber over en sten. Det løber hele natten. Bedstemor siger, det synger os i søvn."

Nuno og Pip kiggede på hinanden.

Vand, der løber over en sten.

"Broen," sagde Nuno.

Men Broen lå bag dem, langt tilbage ad stien. Og foran dem var lanternen ved Birken stadig mørk, og lanternen på Bakketoppen, og skoven ventede på, at de blev tændt.

Nuno kiggede den ene vej. Han kiggede den anden vej.

"Lanternerne må vente lidt," sagde han. "Det gør dem ikke noget."

"Men der er mørkt derhenne," sagde Bramble. "Jeg kom den vej. Der var helt mørkt."

"Se," sagde Nuno.

Hun kiggede. Bag dem, hele vejen tilbage mellem træerne, lyste stien. Stenen. Engen. Dammen. Hver af dem et lille varmt lys, og hver af dem viste vej til den næste.

"En lanterne er et lille lys, der siger: nogen er vågen," sagde Nuno. "Og når man er faret vild, siger den én ting til. Den siger: det her er vejen hjem."

Så gik de tilbage sammen, ræven, egernet og pindsvinet, fra lys til lys.

Bramble havde meget korte ben. Det tog lang tid. Nuno skyndede ikke på hende.

Ved Engen standsede hun for at snuse. Ikke endnu.

Ved Dammen standsede hun for at lytte. Ikke endnu.

Så kom de rundt om det sidste sving, og dér lå Broen med sin lysende lanterne og bækken, der gled hen over stenene nedenunder. Og ved siden af bækken stod et lille, skævt æbletræ, som Nuno var gået forbi hver eneste nat i sit liv.

Brambles snude gik i vejret.

"Æbler," hviskede hun.

Mellem æbletræets rødder var der et hul på størrelse med en tekop. Indefra kom der en blød, rolig snorken.

"Bedstemor har slet ikke opdaget, at jeg var væk," sagde Bramble.

Hun vendte sig om. "Tak for lysene," sagde hun. Og så var hun væk.

Pip var faldet i søvn for længe siden. Nuno løftede ham op på sin ryg og gik hele vejen ud igen, forbi Dammen, forbi Engen, forbi Stenen.

Birken. Hhhh.

Og helt oppe på toppen af bakken sad Oona, den store, runde ugle, og ventede ved den sidste mørke lanterne med øjnene halvt lukkede.

"Undskyld, jeg kommer sent," hviskede Nuno.

Han pustede på lanternen. Den vågnede, varm og gul.

Oona sagde aldrig noget. Men hun gav sig til at nynne, dybt og langsomt, som en bæk langt borte.

Sådan vidste skoven, at natten var tryg.

Nuno sad ved siden af hende og holdt vagt, til himlen blev lys.

Så gik han ned ad bakken, og ved hver lanterne trak han vejret ind — bare en lille slurk luft — og lyset foldede sig sammen og lagde sig til at sove.

Ved Broen standsede han og lyttede. Vand over sten. Og ganske svagt, nedenunder, to pindsvin, der snorkede.

Han puttede Pip i hans rede og gik hjem.

"Du var længe væk i nat," sagde Rævemor. "Var stien længere?"

"Der var en, der skulle følges hjem," sagde Nuno.

"Så var den lige præcis så lang, som den skulle være," sagde Rævemor. "Sov godt, min natteræv."

Nuno rullede sig sammen i sin seng af blade og lagde halen over snuden.

Og Nuno sov. Hele dagen lang.