The Urchin of the Riding Stars Read Free

Urchin.
    He was Urchin’s hero. If anyone had asked Urchin what he’d like to be, he could have truthfully said, “I want to be like Captain Crispin.” But he wouldn’t have told anyone that. It was a treasured dream, not to be spoken. And they’d only laugh.
    Besides, nobody had asked him. He’d be loading timber onto ships for the rest of his life.
    The youngest of the little squirrels had fallen over and was whimpering. Urchin picked her up and sat on a log with the squirrel on his lap and Needle beside him.
    “Isn’t it wonderful up here?” Needle said. “Look at that ship!” Then she looked down at her paws. “Sorry.”
    “It’s all right,” said Urchin. “I don’t mind.” He knew she hadn’t meant to remind him of his future loading and unloading ships.
    Crackle popped up behind them.
    “Oh, so Needle’s still speaking to us,” she said. “You don’t want to talk to him, Needle, he’s just joining a common work party, and you’re a tower hedgehog. You’ll be off to the workrooms tomorrow, won’t you? Painting, weaving, sewing, making the Threadings, goodness knows what else. Very talented, aren’t we? Very privileged. Much too good to speak to the rest of us.”
    Needle turned quickly.
    “Ouch!” said Crackle.
    “Oh, did you get caught in my spines?” asked Needle politely. “You shouldn’t get so close to me. Ignore her, Urchin.”
    “You must be looking forward to tomorrow,” said Urchin.
    “I haven’t liked to talk about it,” Needle said awkwardly.
    “What, because you’ve been chosen for training at the tower and I haven’t?” said Urchin. “Talk all you like. I’m very glad for you. It’s just that…”
    He looked at the shore again. Captain Crispin was no longer there. A few squirrels and otters sat on the jetty, dabbling their paws in the water.
    “I had dreams,” he said quietly. “Sometimes I think I’m meant to do something special.” He wriggled his paws. “Maybe it’s because of not knowing who I am. I don’t even know how I got here, or where from. I don’t know who my parents are—or were—and I don’t even look like the rest of you. Apple always told me I was special. I used to think, perhaps, I’d been chosen for something. I…you won’t laugh, will you?”
    “Of course not!” said Needle.
    He wouldn’t have said this to anyone but Needle. Even with her, it wasn’t easy.
    “I was born on a night of riding stars,” he said. “Wonderful things are supposed to happen after those nights, but I don’t think anything very exciting followed that one. It was as if…well, as if I was what happened. As if I was sent here that night, and I have something vital to do. And I’ve tried really hard at everything I’ve ever done. I knew I wasn’t really a Mistmantle squirrel and I’d have to make an effort to become one. And I have made the effort, but I’ve got nothing to show for it. Nothing except loading ships for the rest of my life.”
    “What makes you think it’s for the rest of your life?” asked Needle. “You might go on to…”
    She stopped, as Apple had finally appeared at the top of the hill. She was looking down at the moored ship while she got her breath back.
    “Unloading boats!” she grumbled, and flopped down heavily beside Needle and Urchin. The log rocked, and the little squirrel squeaked. “It’s all wrong, this. They never used to do it this way. They never had no work parties, and that and all the work that needed doing got done, all the same, and we had a lot more fun in them days.”
    Urchin and Needle grinned swiftly at each other. There was no point in arguing, or in speaking at all, once Apple had something to say.
    “The boats all got unloaded and loaded up, too, and all the nuts and berries and that all got gathered up and stored, and all the making of cloaks and cordials and the fishing and the work on the boats, and looking after the tower and making medicines, and keeping our nests nice, all that, it