The Night The Animals Swapped Jobs

The Job Chart hung on that oak every day. It showed who watched, who built, who carried, who delivered, who gathered, and who sang. Rabbit liked seeing all the jobs together. It made the forest feel neat and ready.

If the chart was still there, Rabbit could check the morning jobs and help everyone begin.

She turned onto the path beside the creek. Or what had been the path beside the creek.

A pile of branches filled the way. Thin twigs poked out in every direction. One branch held a bright yellow leaf like a little flag.

Rabbit tugged at it.

The branch did not move.

She dug her paws into the soft ground and pulled harder. Her ears flopped forward. Her nose wrinkled. The branch gave a tiny creak, then rolled right back into place.

Rabbit tumbled onto her bottom.

“That did not work,” she said.

A cheerful chirp came from above. A small bird hopped along a bent branch and shook water from its wings.

Rabbit looked up. “Do you know another way to the oak?”

The bird chirped again and flew over the branches.

Rabbit sighed. “Yes, well, flying would help.”

She searched for a way around. To the left, tall grass covered the ground. To the right, the creek had spilled over its bank and made a wide, muddy puddle. Rabbit chose the grass.

She pushed through the wet blades. They tickled her nose and brushed her cheeks. Then her front paw sank into a hidden hole.

Plop!

Rabbit slid forward and landed in a patch of clover.

She lifted her head. A clover flower sat on her nose.

“Still not the oak,” she said.

For a moment, Rabbit wanted to turn back. The forest paths had always been easy for her. She knew how to race along them, how to stop quickly, and how to listen for a rustle that meant everyone should pay attention.

But today the forest needed her to do something new.

Rabbit stood up. “I can find another way.”

She climbed a low hill, where she could see over the wet ferns. Beyond the creek, the fallen oak lay in a clearing. Its roots pointed up at the sky, and its broad branches spread across the grass.

The Job Chart should be there.

Rabbit took a deep breath and started down the hill.

At the bottom, she found a narrow space between two fallen branches. It was just wide enough for her.

“Easy,” she whispered.

She turned sideways and squeezed through. Bark brushed her back. A twig caught her fur. She wriggled and wriggled until - pop! - she came free.

Rabbit landed in a bed of soft leaves.

“I did it!” she cried.

The clearing was close now. She could hear water dripping from the oak’s leaves. She could smell fresh wood and damp earth. A few golden sunbeams shone through the broken branches.

Rabbit hurried forward.

Then she saw the others.

Beaver stood beside a pile of sticks, holding one in his teeth. Fox was brushing leaves from her red coat. Turtle rested near a smooth stone, and Frog sat on a broad leaf with water beading on his green back.

Owl watched from a low branch. Her feathers were damp, and one small leaf rested on her head.

“You made it!” called Fox.

Rabbit looked around. “You all came?”

“We followed the paths,” said Turtle. “Or what was left of them.”

Beaver dropped his stick. “I fixed one tiny crossing on the way.”

Fox smiled. “And I found three berries.”

“You ate one,” said Frog.

“Two,” Fox admitted.

Rabbit almost laughed. Then she looked at the fallen oak.

The Job Chart was not hanging from its trunk.

She hurried closer. The place where it had been tied was empty. Only a loose piece of string dangled from a broken branch.

Rabbit checked beneath the oak’s leaves. She nosed aside wet grass. She looked behind a log, under a fern, and between the oak’s great roots.

Nothing.

“The chart must be here,” she said. “It was always here.”

Owl flew down to the ground. “The storm may have carried it away.”

Rabbit’s ears drooped. “But without it, how will we know what to do?”

Everyone grew quiet.

Beaver looked at his sticks. “I build dams.”

Turtle slowly lifted his head. “I carry heavy things.”

Fox tapped one paw. “I deliver messages.”

Frog puffed his throat. “I sing the evening songs.”

Owl spread her damp wings. “I watch at night.”

Rabbit looked at the empty branch. “And I gather food and warn everyone.”

The jobs sounded simple when they said them aloud. They were the jobs each animal did every day. But without the chart, the morning felt wobbly, like a wheel with a loose spoke.

“What if someone forgets?” Rabbit asked.

“I will not forget,” said Beaver.

At once, he spotted a row of little sticks near the creek. “Those would make a fine tiny dam.”

He hurried away.

“Beaver!” Fox called. “We are looking for the chart.”

Beaver stopped with one paw on a stick. “Oh. Right.”

Rabbit smiled a little, but her worry stayed.

She climbed onto a low root and looked over the clearing. The storm had scattered leaves, twigs, and scraps of bark everywhere. A bright blue feather lay near the creek. A torn strip of paper peeked from beneath a bush.

Rabbit hopped down and raced toward it.

It was only a piece of birch bark.

She searched beside the roots. Nothing. She checked the grass near the stone. Nothing. She followed a line of damp paper scraps toward the creek, but the scraps turned out to be pale leaves.

Rabbit sat back on her haunches.

“I looked everywhere,” she said.

“You looked in many places,” said Owl gently.

“Not the right place.”

Owl tilted her head. “You found your way through the fallen branches.”

Rabbit glanced at the path she had made. Mud covered her paws. A twig stuck out of her fur. Still, she had reached the oak.

“I nearly gave up,” Rabbit said.

“But you kept going,” said Owl.

Rabbit looked at the empty branch again. She did not know where the chart was. She did not know who should begin which job. She did not even know how to get everyone back through the tangled forest.

Then Frog hopped beside her.

“We can search together,” he said.

Turtle nodded. “Slowly, but surely.”

Fox lifted her nose. “I can sniff the paper.”

Beaver picked up his stick. “I can move branches.”

Owl folded her wings. “And I can look from above.”

Rabbit’s worry loosened, just a little.

“All right,” she said. “We will search together.”

They spread around the fallen oak. Beaver pulled small branches aside. Turtle pushed a heavy log with his strong shell. Fox sniffed along the damp ground. Frog peered beneath leaves. Owl flew up to a low branch and looked across the clearing.

Rabbit searched near the roots.

At last, she spotted something pale beneath a curtain of moss.

“Here!” she called.

Everyone hurried over.

Rabbit pulled away the moss. Beneath it lay three wet pieces of the Job Chart. The writing was smudged, and one corner was missing, but the animals could still see bits of their names.

Rabbit held up the pieces. “We found part of it!”

A cheer rose in the clearing.

Then Owl landed beside her and pointed toward the creek. “Look.”

A fourth piece of the chart floated on the water.

Beaver reached for it, but the current carried it farther away. He splashed after it, then stopped beside a row of sticks.

“Oh,” he said. “That would make an excellent tiny dam.”

“Beaver,” said everyone together.

He blinked. “Right. The chart first.”

Rabbit hopped along the creek bank. The water moved too fast for her paws, but Fox ran ahead and found a fallen branch stretched across the stream.

“I can reach it,” Fox said.

She stepped onto the branch, stretched her nose, and caught the paper between her teeth. Then she hurried back, shaking water from her whiskers.

The piece was soggy, but it was safe.

The animals placed the four pieces beside the oak. One large piece was still missing. The chart was not ready to hang, and the jobs were still mixed up in everyone’s minds.

Rabbit looked at her muddy paws, the tangled paths, and her friends gathered close.

They had found some of the chart.

But now they had a bigger problem: no one knew what the forest needed next.

End of chapter one. 14 more chapters and about 26,826 words in the full book.