Chipmunk's Leaf Ride

Pip’s ears lifted. The breeze tickled his whiskers. The leaf skimmed over the moss, and a small fern brushed his side.

“Whee!” Pip called.

He spread his paws to keep his balance. The leaf glided down the gentle slope. It passed a round stone and slipped between two tufts of grass. Pip laughed so hard that he nearly rolled off.

“This is wonderful!”

The leaf turned when its pointed end bumped into a curled twig. Pip leaned left, and the leaf turned left too.

“Oh!” he said. “I can steer!”

He leaned right. The leaf curved right.

Pip sat up proudly. He was not only riding. He was guiding his leaf sled.

The ground changed beneath him. The soft moss gave way to dry leaves that made a cheerful crackle. The slope bent toward a lower part of the hill, where thick brambles grew beside a shallow hollow.

Pip saw the brambles and lifted his paws.

“Easy now,” he said. “We’ll go around.”

He leaned left.

The leaf slid left, but not enough. A small root hid under the leaves. The leaf bumped it and spun halfway around.

Pip squeaked and grabbed the curled edge.

The leaf stopped for a moment.

Pip took a breath. He was safe. The hollow was not far away, and its floor was covered with soft leaves. Still, the brambles along its sides made the path look narrow.

“I need a better turn,” he said.

He pressed one paw to the ground. The leaf moved forward again.

Pip leaned right this time. The leaf turned, but the hill pulled it faster. The breeze rushed past his ears. Bramble branches reached across the edge of the hollow, their small leaves shining in the sun.

“Slow down, Leaf!” Pip called.

Of course, the leaf could not answer. It slid over a patch of pine needles and bumped a little mound of dirt.

Pip’s tail flew up.

The leaf skidded sideways.

“Hold on!”

Pip held on.

The leaf spun once, then slid down the last part of the slope. It came to rest in the bramble-lined hollow with Pip sitting in the middle. A few dry leaves fluttered down around him.

For a moment, everything was still.

Then Pip let out a long breath.

“I made it.”

He looked around. The hollow was cozy, but it was smaller than it had seemed from above. Brambles curved along one side like a leafy fence. A low branch stretched across the other side, just above Pip’s head.

Pip climbed off the leaf and brushed bits of pine needle from his fur.

“That was a fine ride,” he told the leaf. “But now we should go back up.”

He tugged the leaf with its stem.

The leaf did not move.

Pip pulled harder. The leaf scraped over the ground, but its pointed end slid beneath the low branch.

“Oh.”

He crouched and peered underneath. The branch pressed down on the leaf’s tip. The leaf was not hurt, but it could not slide free.

Pip tugged again.

The branch bounced. A shower of tiny leaves sprinkled his head.

“Perhaps you would like to come this way,” Pip said.

He pulled toward the left. The leaf shifted a little, then caught on a bramble root.

Pip tried the right side. The leaf moved one inch and stopped.

He sat back on his hunches.

The hollow smelled of damp earth and sweet fern. Somewhere above, a robin sang three clear notes. Pip could see a bright patch of sky through the branches, but the way out was not as simple as the way in.

He walked around the leaf and studied it.

“If I push the back,” he said, “maybe the front will slide out.”

Pip placed both paws against the broad end and pushed.

His paws slipped. He landed on his belly with a soft plop.

Pip blinked. Then he began to giggle.

“Pushing is harder than riding.”

He stood and tried again, this time bracing his feet against a flat stone. The leaf scraped forward. Its tip moved out from under the branch, but one of its curled edges caught on a thorn.

Pip stopped at once.

He did not want to tear his fine leaf.

He reached carefully between the bramble stems and lifted the edge. The thorn let go. Pip pulled the leaf back, but it slid under the branch again.

He sat beside it, resting his chin in his paws.

The leaf had carried him down the hill. It had turned when he leaned. It had made him laugh. Now it was stuck because the hollow was tighter than he had guessed.

Pip looked up at the low branch.

“I thought I knew this hill,” he said. “But I only knew the top.”

A little breeze moved the bramble leaves. They brushed together with a soft rustle.

Pip listened.

The hollow had a narrow gap beside the branch. It was just wide enough for the leaf’s stem, but not wide enough for the whole leaf. If he turned the leaf sideways, perhaps he could pull it free.

Pip crouched at the back. He lifted one edge and nudged the leaf with his shoulder.

The leaf turned a little.

“Good,” Pip said. “That’s it.”

He nudged again. The leaf turned farther, but the pointed tip pressed against the branch.

Pip tried to lift the tip. His paws could not reach far enough.

He looked at the hill above. From down in the hollow, the slope seemed steeper. The path he had ridden looked twisty and bright, with little roots and stones he had not noticed before.

Pip’s belly gave a small rumble. He had been so busy riding that he had forgotten lunch.

He opened his pouch and found one hazelnut. He took a bite and chewed slowly.

The nut was warm from the sun. Its sweet, crunchy taste helped him think.

“I can enjoy a ride and still need to be careful,” Pip said.

He finished the hazelnut, then tucked the empty shell beside a stone. He placed his paws under the leaf’s broad edge and lifted. The leaf rose just enough for him to pull the stem toward the gap.

It slipped free.

Pip smiled.

But before he could pull the rest of the leaf out, the broad middle caught beneath the branch once more. The leaf was loose at one end and trapped at the other.

Pip gave me a small tug.

The branch bent down.

He let go.

The leaf settled with a soft flap.

Pip was safe, and the leaf was safe, but neither of them was going anywhere yet.

He glanced at the narrow path beside the brambles. It led upward, back toward Fern Hill. The way was open for him, but not for the leaf.

Pip rested a paw on the leaf’s smooth surface.

“You carried me down,” he said. “I’ll find a way to carry you out.”

Above the hollow, sunlight warmed the tips of the ferns. Below the low branch, the leaf waited, bright and broad, with its stem pointing toward the open path.

Pip sat beside it and listened to the woodland sounds. The robin sang again. A beetle hummed near the moss. The brambles rustled softly in the breeze.

His ride was over for now, but his adventure had only begun.

Pip curled his tail around his feet and smiled at the leaf.

A good ride could teach you two things at once: how much fun it is to try something new, and how wise it is to ask for help when the path gets tricky.

End of chapter one. 5 more chapters in the full book.