The Urchin of the Riding Stars Read Free Page A

all got done. And these days it’s all work parties, isn’t it?” She looked around for support. “Isn’t it, though?”
    “Yes, Apple,” said Needle.
    “It’s work parties all the time now, and before you’re up in the mornings it’s ‘all the West Shore otters report for beachcombing’ and ‘all the Anemone Wood squirrels to report to the cone stores’ and I don’t know what else. Here’s Urchin looking after them little ones—hello, little one—climbing trees, all the things he should be doing at his age and tomorrow he’s got to go and…”
    “Load timber!” squeaked Gleaner, and giggled.
    Needle’s spines bristled. “And what work will you be doing, Gleaner?” she asked sweetly.
    “They haven’t told me yet,” said Gleaner with a wriggle and a shrug. “They’re still thinking about me. They may be considering me for work in the tower.” She wriggled again. “Of course, I don’t suppose I’ll get in, but it’s very nice to be considered.”
    “Who said you were being considered?” asked Needle.
    “Mind your own business,” snapped Gleaner, and added in a whisper, “you should have been culled at birth.”
    “Culled?” said Urchin. “That’s not funny!”
    “And that’s another thing that never used to happen in the old days,” said Apple crossly. “There wasn’t no culling.”
    The small squirrel twisted to look up at Urchin. “What’s culling?” she asked.
    “Never you mind, bless your little ears,” said Apple.
    “There was a mole baby taken to be culled last week,” said Crackle loudly.
    “That’s enough out of you!” said Apple.
    “But it’s kind, isn’t it, to kill the weak ones,” said Gleaner as Needle took the little squirrel by the paw and dragged her away to play. “It’s cruel to let them live if they’re weak or they’re not right. Far more sensible to kill them off. They do them in very quickly.”
    “They dope them first, don’t they?” said Crackle.
    “You just be quiet,” snapped Apple over her shoulder. “It’s a terrible thing, and we never used to do it in the old days.”
    Gleaner sat up very straight. “It’s the king’s law!” she said indignantly. “You can’t say the king’s wrong!”
    All Mistmantle animals were fiercely loyal to the king, and always had been. Turning against the king was unthinkable. Hedgehogs especially were famous for their loyalty and hard work, just as otters were known for their courage and good humor, and squirrels for their bright spirits. Moles were so much underground it could be difficult to get to know them at all, but they were determined and reliable.
    “He’s a real good king, a good king,” agreed Apple firmly. “He’s just got some funny laws, that’s all. Like that”—she glanced at the little squirrel, who had escaped from Needle and was climbing up Urchin’s leg”…that law we were just talking about, and them work parties. And them’s not good laws, in fact, that thing we’re talking about, that’s a bad law, there’s no good in that, can’t be, but he’s a good king, a right good king, but them laws just isn’t good laws, that’s all, he’s got some bad laws.”
    “Pardon?” said Urchin.
    “Oh, don’t make her say it all again,” sighed Gleaner.
    “I wish they wouldn’t, though,” said Needle quietly. “My mum’s having another baby, and I just hope and hope and pray that it’s all right. I couldn’t bear it if…”
    Urchin looked down at the small squirrel, but she was staring at something a little way off.
    “The baby should be all right,” he said.
    “But even babies that are just a bit weak and small get culled,” she said. “Or a teeny bit lame or short-sighted.”
    “What’s the little one staring at?” demanded Apple loudly. “Oh, my goodness, it’s him!”
    “It’s Captain Crispin!” exclaimed Urchin. He jumped to his hind paws and nearly dropped the little squirrel as Captain Crispin leaped from a tree and landed on the