WINTER WENT AWAY; THE snow melted in the warm winds.
The pheasants crowed louder again as they came down from the trees in the morning. Their wings had a clearer rattle, and the bursting noise of their crowing was gayer. Magpies chattered busily the whole day, which grew longer and longer. The twitter of the blackbirds was heard more often, and sometimes it began to be a song, though it would break right off again. The woodpecker’s tattoo rattled in the trees. The titmice in the bushes whispered more busily than they had for months.
The forest was still leafless, and the bare branches still reached heavenward; but they were no longer despairing and beseeching, but full of hope and expectation. The sap was running in trunks and bushes, making the fat brown leaf-buds shiny and sticky.
Most of the fallen leaves on the ground had turned to rich earth, the remnants went the same way, if more slowly. Through it the white blossoms of the snowdrop nodded, and shy violets hid among them. Everywhere the leek sent up poisonously green shoots, simulating new life in thicket and meadow.
The deer were deceived, took eagerly to the new food, and were made sick by it. Their hair was matted, yellowish-brown. Sometimes they had bare spots as big as a man’s hand, where the winter hair had fallen out. The roebucks grew new antlers, thickly covered with velvet.
But the stags as yet had none to show, and they hid in herds in the coverts, as if ashamed of their defenseless heads.
Now that the cold hand of the snow no longer imprisoned the forest, all the good scents were set free; the sprouting earth, broken in many, many places, sent its odor into the air. The wood of the trees actually smelled of work going on; the meadow grass and the herbs opening in the shadowy thickets gave off a soft, aromatic scent.
When she woke up one morning, Perri thought she had slept but a single night. She had grown thin during her winter weeks of dreaming, and a healthy stomach demanded food, but neither thinness nor hunger had weakened her. Feeling gloriously fresh, she whipped out of her nest, tense with confidence in a splendid feast to come.
She raced along the branches, which gave under her feet. She nibbled the tips of the fir needles; they tasted superb. She ate as she ran, practicing long-neglected breakneck leaps. As she jumped she found tiny shoots and juicy leaf-buds. She embraced the trunks, running up them in her delight at seeing them again. She foregathered with the woodpecker and the magpie, and listened happily to their stories.
Suddenly it occurred to her to wonder: where is Porro?
Porro? Porro? Yes, of course; Porro. For a long time she had forgotten her companion. But now the longing for him was so strong that it gave her no peace. She had no fear for him; she never doubted for a moment that he was alive. But she was frightened by the thought that he might have forgotten her, and would disdain her. She put the thought aside.
Perri roamed widely, keeping a lookout from the highest treetops. Nothing. For some reason she could not bring herself to ask anyone about him. Often she was about to say, “Have you seen Porro?” But she could not get it out, and would run off bashfully.
This new feeling inside her was a complete puzzle. Of course Porro was a pleasant companion, but she had never been excited about his comings and goings. That was before. And this violent desire to see him and be with him was something different. Now it seemed as if only his presence would make her happy, as if she could not live without him.
A voice called: “Perri! Little Perri!”
She listened intently.
“Little Perri!”
It was not his voice. The black squirrel hurtled up.
She flashed off in disappointment, the black squirrel hard on her heels.
“Listen! Do listen!” he begged.
She did not and would not listen. Then he caught up with her, bounded over her, and barred her path.
“Perri! I love you! You are so beautiful! The loveliest of them all, and the sweetest!”
“Let me be!” she barked, springing a few branches lower. But he jumped with her, and caught up again.
“I’m in love with you, Perri! You’ll be my mate. Say yes! I beseech you, say yes!”
“No!” she snapped at him.
“Why not? Why not?”
“You have a mate already, you wretch!”
“Pooh! That mate is gone, heaven knows where.” He made a contemptuous gesture.
“Then go look for her!” Perri fled.
He followed her, besieging her with petitions and promises.
Up tree and down went the wild chase. She ignored his courtship, and ran as hard as she could go. But during her breathless flight she had a sudden insight: This was love! She had a new glowing feeling: I love Porro, and only Porro!
She had no fear of the black squirrel, but only disgust. To avoid his intrusion, she ran.
He called after her, “You must be mine, sweet one!”
She fled the faster, thinking, “My sweet Porro!” Hot and panting she slipped into her nest, before bedtime.
“Until tomorrow,” piped the black squirrel outside. “Tomorrow you’ll be mine.”
“Never!” cried Perri. She rolled up cozily. That night she wanted to dream of Porro; but no dream came to her—nothing but sound, deep sleep.
But in the morning there was a cry: “Perri! Here I am!”
It was his voice, and when she tumbled out, Porro sat before her.
“I love you,” he said, very gravely, very gently.
It took her breath away.
He repeated, “I love you.”
“Th-that’s g-good,” she stammered.
“If you like me, too,” he said, “then it’s good.”
Before she could answer, the black squirrel whizzed in to join them.
“Off with you! Impudent brat!” he screamed. “That’s my mate!”
“It’s a lie!” Perri flared up. “I’m not your—”
She did not finish. The black squirrel interrupted her: “You will be! Absolutely! That fellow shan’t disturb us.” He snarled at Porro: “Be off! Be off!”
“No! No!” Porro defied him. “She belongs to me.”
“To you?” Furiously the black squirrel jumped at him. “To you? That belongs to you! That, and that!” He pounded at Porro. When Porro hit back they grappled, biting fiercely.
Porro defended himself, and several times took the offensive. But the black squirrel was stronger and more brutal; he wanted to kill his rival. When he went at his neck, and tried to bite his throat, Porro twisted away with a quick, elastic movement, and fled, defeated.
Perri crouched there mournfully; she gave up the idea of hurrying after Porro. The black squirrel would only follow her, and get hold of Porro again. She made up her mind to avenge Porro.
“Well, my love,” rejoiced the black squirrel, “we’re rid of him. He won’t start anything with me again.” He was bleeding from three wounds, but he came closer, trying not to show it.
“But I’ll start something with you!” came a cry from above. “You leave my Perri alone! I love her! Yes, Perri, I love you with all my heart.” It was Flame-Red. He charged down like lightning. “Take yourself off, villain!” he ordered.
The black squirrel bristled with indignation. “You miserable braggart! I hate you! It’s a long time I’ve been waiting to throttle you!”
Flame-Red said not a word, but fell upon the black squirrel without more ado. There was mad biting on both sides. Deadly enemies, they grappled blindly, senselessly.
Perri watched silently. The black and the red skins seemed to be one. Hair floated about. They rolled over and over, and plumped to the ground without letting go.
While they were fighting, Perri seized the opportunity to sneak off. Gently and cautiously she whisked away, and when she was out of earshot she began to race.
“Porro!” she cried, “Porro!”
He jumped to meet her; he had waited for her ten or twelve trees away.
“Here I am,” said Perri.
“I knew you would come.”
“But now we must go fast,” she urged, “far, far away, so that nobody can catch us.”
They ran on and on, from tree to tree. They reached a strange neighborhood, but still they ran without stopping.
The flame-red one had overpowered the black squirrel, who was exhausted and battered from his struggle with Porro, but he hunted in vain for Perri. Soon he gave it up to lick his bleeding bites.
Perri and Porro were safe in a mighty oak. “This is where we’ll live,” said Porro.
“How nice that it’s an oak again,” said Perri. “I like it here.”
“Anywhere that I can be with you,” replied Porro, “I like it—anywhere.”
“You’re wise,” she praised him.
“Perhaps you’ll make me wise,” he said thoughtfully. “But I was very stupid; I didn’t understand anything. Now I know that love is the great wonder. No matter what it means, even fighting and pain, it’s all happiness.”