Urchin and the Heartstone Read Online Free PDF Page B

Sepia?”

    In the Throne Room, Urchin watched the solemn faces of Padra, Crispin, and Fir. His paws tingled. It was exciting to know that, sooner or later, Crispin would ask for his opinion. He just hoped he wouldn’t say anything silly. Padra and Fir had spoken already.
    “So,” said Crispin, “three of us are agreed that we must help Whitewings, as it’s the animals we sent into exile who are causing their troubles. But putting Urchin at risk is another matter. Now, Urchin.”
    Urchin’s ears twitched nervously. Crispin smiled and leaned forward casually on the throne, folding his paws as if he and Urchin were chatting in Anemone Wood, not having a solemn meeting in the Throne Room.
    “I haven’t let you say a word up to now,” he said, “because I was pretty certain that you’d say, ‘Yes, Your Majesty, send me. I’ll go.’ You might not want to go, you’d rather be here with the rest of us, you might be terrified, but you’d do it.”
    “I was going to ask if it could wait until after the coronation,” admitted Urchin.
    “Everything can wait until after the coronation,” said Crispin firmly. “You may be the Marked Squirrel who’s going to deliver the island. It’s just as likely that you’re not—or at least, not yet.”
    Urchin looked down at his claws. There should be something exciting about the idea of being the Marked Squirrel of a prophecy. But he didn’t know anything about Whitewings, or how he was supposed to deliver the island, or even where it was, or whether they’d let him keep the sword if he didn’t.
    “How can I tell if the prophecy means me?” he asked.
    Crispin turned to Fir. “How can he tell?”
    “He can’t,” said Fir simply. “Prophecies are all very useful in their way, but they must be handled with care. They can cause all sorts of wrong guesses.”
    “Is there such a prophecy, Brother Fir?” asked Padra.
    “Oh, yes. Hm. Yes,” said Fir. “A Marked Squirrel will deliver Whitewings in its time of need. Squirrels of your color are most rare, but I believe Whitewings is one of the places where they are, occasionally, seen. Or so they say.”
    “Are they?” said Urchin. “Are they?” And a shiver ran through him with a hope and excitement he had never known. Fir’s words had stirred something so deeply hidden inside him that he hadn’t recognized it before.
    “Please, Brother Fir,” he said, and found he was stammering. “Please, if there are squirrels like me on Whitewings, might that be where I come from?”
    “Occasionally, Urchin,” said Fir, and Urchin’s hopes darkened; “very occasionally, there is a squirrel like yourself on Whitewings. But they are very rare. I think your mother must have belonged somewhere farther away. You’re very special, you know, Urchin, wherever you come from.”
    “Thank you, Brother Fir,” said Urchin quickly, and bent his head to hide his disappointment. Sometimes, when he caught sight of his reflection, he would wonder what it would be like if the other squirrel in the water or the window could be real, a squirrel like himself, so he wouldn’t be the only one with pale fur. Mostly, nobody noticed the difference anymore. He himself forgot that he stood out in a crowd. But it had been so good, for a moment, to think that he might find out where he came from, and know who he was. When he had thought he came from Whitewings, his heart had urged him to go there. He swallowed hard, and curled his claws.
    “You don’t have to go,” said Crispin firmly. “They offered you a sword, and Padra intervened. If you’d accepted it, it would have been as good as agreeing to fight their battles for them.”
    “Oh!” said Urchin. “I didn’t know that.”
    “Exactly,” said Padra drily. “I hope they weren’t trying to trick you, offering something so hard to refuse. You must bear that in mind, Urchin. They really shouldn’t have offered it.”
    Urchin gave a little nod to show he understood. He’d been right