The Mysterious Disappearance of Contessa Willoughby: Part Four
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Part Four
Reread Part Three if you wish to recall where we last left Contessa or continue reading.
“Hiya!” Contessa looked around. She scanned the open field around her for the person the voice belonged to, but she saw no one.
“Down here,” came a squeak. Contessa craned her ear towards the sound, then walked closer to the tree. She half-expected to see the bark move. Papa did once tell her that there was a time when trees spoke. She scanned the holly hedge and then the bark. The voice most certainly came from the direction of the tree.
Just as she took another step closer to the holly, a squirrel’s tail twitched among its leaves.
“Is that you?” she asked, expecting silence.
The squirrel nervously poked its head out between the leaves, “Aye, it is. Gallagher, you can call me.“
Gallagher stepped out from the hedge. He was a bushy squirrel, his coat a warm red and white at the belly. Two tufted ears twitched atop his head, while his bottlebrush tail tapped in time. Contessa knew this sort of squirrel was called a red squirrel. A pair resided in her grandfather’s oak tree, which Papa said was special. On that day, they moved from the bench to just beneath a bulky limb where the two squirrels ran back and forth in pursuit of one another.
“They’re disappearing.” Papa sighed.
“Who’s Disappearing?”
“The squirrels. They’re losing their homes. Can you imagine if you had nowhere to sleep at night, to raise your family, or way of getting food?”
“But where do they live, Papa? Where does their food come from?”
“The trees.”
To Gallagher, she finally said, “Nice to meet you. Is this your home? I’m sorry to have disturbed you.”
“No worries, no worries at all.” Gallagher’s squirrel head bobbed up and down excitedly. “I was just going to see what the commotion was to see if I needed to include it in me report for Percival tomorrow morning. You see I protect this tree and if there was any trouble, I’ve to let Percival know.”
“Percival?”
“Yes, an eagle friend who carries the news. Now, some questions for you. What brings you to this tree? Few know about it, and I can see from your attire that you’re not from here. Who are you?”
“Oh, it is such a long and unbelievable story, but then again, I am talking to you and that is unbelievable too! Last night I fell asleep in my bed at my grandfather’s house and when I awoke there was a wooden rocking horse at the foot of my bed. It wasn’t there when I fell asleep. I climbed atop it and began to rock, and after a few movements forward rocking movements, I was suddenly standing in a cave filled with crystals. I followed a tunnel in the cave under this tree and came out over there.” Contessa pointed towards the tree’s trunk covered in holly.
“I see, I see. I don’t know what a rocking horse is, but it sounds important. It brought you here for a reason. What do you think the reason is? And I’m sorry. Your name?”
“Oh right, I haven’t told you my name. I’m Contessa,” she paused. The memory of the fire seemed long ago, lost in a cobweb of thoughts. “Now what was it? Why do I think I’m here? Yes, to find my grandfather. There was a fire.”
“A fire?” Gallagher bristled.
“Yes, a fire in my grandfather’s back garden. It was his great oak tree. It was a special tree, he told me. After the fire, everyone looked for him, but we couldn’t find him. He was gone. As I said when I awoke, there was this wooden horse at the foot of my bed. I think the wooden horse and his disappearance are connected.”
“I believe that’s true." What else do you know?”
“Well, my Papa said that this tree was special. He never told me why. He did say that there was a time when trees spoke though, animals — like you.”
“Your Papa is right, although the time of trees talking in a way that humans can understand was long ago. Most humans can no longer speak to animals, but I see you can. Maybe you could also speak to trees. The trees know everything, Contessa. Perhaps they also know where your Papa is. There is one tree that still speaks to some humans. I could take you there.”
“I would love to go wherever there is,” Contessa said, “but first, where is here?”
“That’s a right good question,” Gallagher scratched his paw on his head. “Squirrel time is different than human time. It is easier to paint a picture of this time so that you might compare it to your own.”
“I think I understand.”
“Now is a time when some humans can speak with us, but not all. The trees have grown silent. Their numbers dwindle as more humans clear the land to build their homes, make warmth, cook their food and stay up long into the night. Some humans remain in partnership with animals and land, but most are concerned with only themselves.”
“Gallagher, it sounds as if you are describing my time.”
“Well, that is both heartening and sad to hear.”
“Time is of the essence though if we are to find your grandfather. We must get to the old tree I told you about.”
“But how will we get there? The rocking horse is in my bedroom back home.” Contessa's eyes began to well with tears.
“Oh, don’t cry me dear girl. Don’t you realize that what made the rocking horse special was the wood it was made of? Your grandfather was right. That tree in the back garden was important. Most likely the rocking horse was made of its wood and that’s what allowed you to travel through time. In this time, some people and all the animals can travel about all the trees.” Gallagher turned around and pointed at the oak behind him, “Like this one.”
“But I don’t know if I can time travel through the tree?”
“You already have, me girl! Now, let’s get on. The sun will be setting soon and you must be hungry. I shall take you home first, and we will set out in the morn’.”
Gallagher waved Contessa forward and she followed him to the other side of the hedge where they disappeared into a burrow at the base of the tree.
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