LITTLE WORM: I fear his trembling snout gives away his intention to eat the squash just as soon as he’s out of sight.
BUTTONS: Well that’s his choice, but I surely will not be giving him another squash if that is how he chooses to eat them.
LITTLE WORM: That’s what you said last time.
BUTTONS: Mr. Hedgehog has more prickles than sense. Although he’s not the only one. I do wish I knew how to get through to the critters of the Meadow sometimes. It’s like we talk and they listen, but once they go off on their own they’ve forgotten everything I’ve said. What can I do? All I know is that it doesn’t do any good to get frustrated at them. Let’s only wish Mr. Hedgehog the best and be on with the day.
LITTLE WORM: Yes of course. Where next?
BUTTONS: Where? But anywhere of course. It is such a lovely morning in the Meadow, and any way we go we will find beautiful friends, for Buttons is friends to all. Let us find a pal to frolic with and share a meal with.
LITTLE WORM: It is a lovely day indeed. Oh, but what’s got your ears pricked up?
BUTTONS: There’s a rustling about.
LITTLE WORM: Perhaps our friend the Hedgehog has returned for further instruction, or more likely, more squash.
BUTTONS: No it sounds too large to be the Hedgehog.
LITTLE WORM: But I don’t hear a thing.
BUTTONS: They are large, but stalk quietly so as to not be heard. We must keep our voices down.
LITTLE WORM: Oh, let’s get out of here Buttons, I don’t want to find out who it is. Who would stalk like this?
BUTTONS: A wise course of action, Little Worm. Hang on.
LITTLE WORM: You just watch where you’re going and I’ll worry about hanging on.
BUTTONS: Oh, something has burst from the bush behind! How it stampedes after us! I dare not look. Perhaps you should jump off and return to the safety of your burrow.
LITTLE WORM: No time I fear! I’ll just have to hide in your scarf. Look out, it lunges!
BUTTONS: Ow! My tail! Who has attacked me? Unhand me you oaf, what have you done to my tail?
SHARPE: Oh my, I do apologize.
BUTTONS: Apologize? You’ve eaten my tail!
SHARPE: So I have ma’am. But I did stop there.
BUTTONS: My, what a turn of events. I'm not sure whether I should thank you or thump you.
SHARPE: No need for either, ma'am. The name’s Sharpe.
BUTTONS: Quite an introduction. But I am confused, why have you stopped eating me?
SHARPE: I would not have on another day. And what is your name little rabbit?
BUTTONS: My name is Buttons. What’s different about today?
SHARPE: Well I’ve recently had it from Captain Waverly that I must listen to the little voice inside of me, and what that little voice is saying is that it might just be the case that all life is valuable, and you should treat all critters of the Meadow in the way you would like them to treat yourself, and that since you wouldn't want others to eat you, you shouldn't eat others. I am really trying to change and follow this new wisdom, but something about your little wiggling fluffy white tail just set something off in me and I lost control. It's quite embarrassing.
BUTTONS: I’ve never heard of any Captain Waverly in these woods. He does sound awfully wise though. What kind of critter is he?
SHARPE: Well he’s not a critter at all. He’s a mushroom.
BUTTONS: A talking mushroom? That’s stupid.
SHAPRE: Captain Waverly is wise, indeed. In fact if anyone knows how to get your tail back it would be him.
BUTTONS: Where can we find Captain Waverly?
SHARPE: That is quite the question. He is all over the Meadow, but the trouble is that where you see Captain Waverly one day, you find a regular mushroom that can't talk at all the next day. Only the Questing Owl knows in what precise mushroom one will find Captain Waverly on a given day.
BUTTONS: The Questing Owl! I’ve seen only seen her once, when I was a bunny. It’s a bit of a frightening memory and I’m not sure if I could even find her again.
SHARPE: There’s nothing to fear at all my dear. The Questing Owl and I are good friends, and I know just where to find her. Just follow along and I’ll lead the way. We must hurry though, the hour is approaching her bed time.
LITTLE WORM: Now’s your chance! Get away Buttons!
BUTTONS: I think I will follow him.
LITTLE WORM: Are you forgetting that he’s already eaten your tail!
BUTTONS: If Captain Waverly could convince this beast to eat vegetables, then I need to know what his secret is. Maybe if I talk to Captain Waverly, I can figure out how to get others to do what I say for once!
LITTLE WORM: That’s quite a gamble, Buttons!
BUTTONS: Come Little Worm, let’s go along with Mr. Sharpe for now and see what he gets up to.
LITTLE WORM: I don’t know about this. Or perhaps I do know, and what I know is that this is not good, Buttons. Not good at all.
* * * * *
SHARPE: Buttons, I feel I have not adequately issued my apologies to you. It was most unbecoming of a gentleman such as myself to pounce on you and gobble up your tail. I must say, you are surely a most brave and kindly creature to forgive me and trust me as a traveling companion.
BUTTONS: Trust is not the right word. Let us say I am taking a calculated risk. And I most certainly do not forgive you.
SHARPE: Very well madame, you’re well within your rights. I shall take what I can get and ask for nothing more.
BUTTONS: Thank you. There’s nothing more to say on the matter for the time being. Let us move on and do our best to be pleasant traveling companions given the situation we find ourselves in. I’ve not seen a dog like you before. What are you?
SHARPE: A husky my dear. The fastest and sharpest dog there is.
BUTTONS: You sure are fast, but I wish you weren’t quite so sharp.
SHARPE: It’s in the name my dear.
BUTTONS: So it is. And what do those sharp teeth of yours eat, if not little rabbits?
SHARPE: Why anything of course. A bush, a flower, carrion, berries, fruits—especially once they’re soft and the skin is wrinkly and peeling back.
BUTTONS: Most would call that a rotten fruit. How dreadful! No wonder you find it hard to stick to that diet.
SHARPE: It’s not the food. I’ll truly eat just about anything, but maybe, now that you mention it, I do miss the odd dish of the choicest meats, prepared just so—a pair of lamb shanks braised in his fats and marrow; beef short ribs; duck confit, first cured overnight with shallots and parsely, then slow-cooked over a four or five hour span, depending on the robustness of her thighs. Ah yes, I was quite the chef in my day. I do believe you may be on to something, sweet Buttons.
BUTTONS: You’re drooling.
SHARPE: What? Oh, so I am, so I am. Well, truly, I do not find myself thinking about those old dishes all too often. I believe what I miss most of all is the chase. Some kind of excitement builds up in me the more I try to stay still and just the sight of a little creature sets me off and I just go.
BUTTONS: Be that as it may, we can certainly do better than bush leaves and rotting fruit. You’re worse than the Hedgehog.
SHARPE: Hedgehog? No I don’t think I’ve ever had one of those.
BUTTONS: Listen, fruits are but a snack. You need a dish of more substance. Firstly you will take a quantity of black beans and boil them in a pot, occasionally skimming the top to remove the gassy bubbles. While that is cooking, take the sweet potato, two or three will do, dice it and fry it in a large skillet with some oil. Don’t cook it all the way through, just brown the sides. Add a goodly amount of rice and twice the measure of water. Add a little more water, since some will be lost to the vapors. Once the rice is almost cooked through, add in green chiles, diced tomato, cilantro, lemon juice, oregano herbs, and salt. Keep it on the fire for a few minutes to encourage the flavors to come out. If you wish for a more savory dish, ask the Goat—ask, mind—for some of her cheese, and let it melt on top.
SHARPE: My! What a dish. Surely you are a most learned master of crafts and arts of the culinary nature.
BUTTONS: That is kind of you to say. Perhaps with the right tutelage, you might come to appreciate your meals once again.
SHARPE: I had not realized I was in such dire need of instruction, but you might be right. We are nearly there, it’s only just through this thicket.
BUTTONS: My, it’s so dark in here, I can barely see. There seems to be a tree at the centre of the thicket, and think I see an outline of something in the tree hollow. Could those two glowing spots be eyes? Oh how they bore into me.
SHARPE: It’s the call to quest. I feel it too. Oh Questing Owl, have we caught you before you’ve headed off to sleep?
THE QUESTING OWL: Only just.
BUTTONS: Owl, forgive me but I must ask you a question. How can I get the animals of the Meadow to do as I wish? Take the Hedgehog for instance. He refuses to cook the squash according to my instruction. He grows impatient and ruins the dish. I’ve tried and tried to explain but he will not heed my instruction. How can I get him to cook it properly?
THE QUESTING OWL: I’m the Questing Owl, not the Wisdom Owl.
SHARPE: We seek a quest to find Captain Waverly.
THE QUESTING OWL: Ah, now that is a proper quest. On this day, one may find Captain Waverly in two places. The first is a place where one is floating and free, but not by the sea. A place where some stand tall, but many others fall. The first is a place with purple blankets on a green park, while the second is pure black without a mark. It will be found on a hidden path where, after an uncounted distance, one finds themselves at a confused place. A place where one can never stay, and where one is always astray.
SHARPE: I have prowled the Meadow for my whole life and I have never seen either place.
THE QUESTING OWL: You have been to both. You’ll recognize them when you find them.
SHARPE: Very well Questing Owl, we accept the quest.
BUTTONS: Thank you Mr. Owl. Goodbye and have a nice sleep.
THE QUESTING OWL: Until the quest calls again.
* * * * *
BUTTONS: I haven’t a clue where we should go.
SHARPE: I’ve thought about the riddle some, but I haven’t yet mastered its twists and turns. I believe I will figure it out in time, for I am familiar with the ways of The Questing Owl. I simply cannot think on an empty stomach. Say, have you had breakfast?
BUTTONS: As a matter of fact I was just about to do that before a certain dog jumped on me and ate my tail.
SHARPE: Oh dear, I see, I see.
BUTTONS: Why do you ask? Surely I was a filling meal for you.
SHARPE: No, not at all actually. I’m feeling quite peevish now. Perhaps I’ll just chew on this bush until the feeling subsides. Say, what’s going on over here?
BUTTONS: Where?
SHARPE: On the oak, down the Oak, around the Oak, and then back up the Oak again. There are two little squirrels excitedly chasing one another about. One’s got a little basket, and it looks like he is struggling to keep up with the other. The other has got her cheeks full of something.
BUTTONS: Oh I know them, I’ll wave them over. Hazel! Cindy! Here they come.
CINDY: Waralbahga gharablabhhwaraaaaaah.
SHARPE: Madame it is lovely to meet your acquaintance, but your mouth is positively brimming and overflowing with hazelnut and there is no way we are going to be able to understand you.
HAZEL: Spit them out my dear.
CINDY: How’s that? Can you understand me now?
SHARPE: Much better madame. It was probably wise to spit that out rather than to risk swallowing.
HAZEL: Buttons, what a splendid case of chance to run into you out here.
BUTTONS: That’s very true, it’s lovely to see you two. Say, don’t you normally hang out with Alvin?
CINDY: Alvin bit it last night.
BUTTONS: Oh dear. How did he go?
HAZEL: The Wolf got him.
CINDY: Oh and thank God. That’s a much better way to go than to be eaten by the Cat Who Fishes. The way she plays with her food can be quite cruel.
BUTTONS: The Cat Who Fishes? I’ve never heard of her, but it would indeed be most cruel to play with one before eating them.
HAZEL: Yes, that’s her favorite. She is a capricious creature indeed, so it’s a good thing Alvin was only eaten by the Wolf.
CINDY: It is a sure thing that the Cat Who Fishes is as evil as they come in the Meadow.
HAZEL: Yes, it is definitely a good thing that the Wolf ate Alvin. Say, who is this wolf that you’re with Buttons?
BUTTONS: He’s not a wolf, he’s a husky.
CINDY: Looks like a wolf to me. He’s not going to eat us is he?
SHARPE: Apologies for my manners and lack of introduction. The name’s Sharpe, and, my dear, you have my utmost assurance that I will not be eating you, but if I did, I surely would not play with you before doing so.
HAZEL: I should hope not. Would the two of you like to share a bite with us?
BUTTONS: Oh I suppose it would be nice to sit amongst friends. What have you got in the basket, Hazel?
CINDY: Yes Hazel, open it up!
HAZEL: Let’s see what we have here. Barbecued vegetable shish kabob with onion, olive, tofu, wrapped with pickled enoki mushroom, served with a rich marinara sauce; citronella croquettes with black bean dip; roasted potatoes a la patatas bravas; and spicy jalapeno poppers drizzled in a coconut milk curry.
BUTTONS: You two have outdone yourselves!
SHARPE: Truly a feast fit for a king, we are fortunate to share in this most choicest of meals.
CINDY: Buttons has fed us many a time, we’re happy to return the favor.
SHARPE: Goodness, the potatoes are especially delicious. Crispy and savory. Who would ever have thought such properties could be imparted upon the humble potato.
HAZEL: Oh the potato isn’t so humble. I’d say those qualities were inside it all along, just waiting for a helping hand to bring them out. It’s quite an amazing vegetable. Did you know that if you put a potato under the earth, it becomes more potatoes?
SHARPE: Fascinating, I certainly must brush up on my potato knowledge.
BUTTONS: I’ve never tried pickling enoki mushrooms before. They have a most bold flavor. Tell me, how was it done?
CINDY: Ah, the idea was passed on to us by the Fox, for he is known to have the most delicate palette. One is to take a jar of enoki, add lemon grass and freshly crushed black pepper, salt, water, vinegar, and perhaps a bay leaf if one pleases. Cook and then cool overnight, et voila.
BUTTONS: How simple! I will be sure to try it for myself and let the Fox know what I think of his recipe on the next occasion of our meeting. Thank you dearly.
HAZEL: It’s our pleasure, Buttons.
CINDY: Yes, our pleasure.
BUTTONS: Do you think we could ask you for one more favor? We were given a riddle by The Questing Owl and we haven’t been able to make heads or tails of it.
HAZEL: Ooh a riddle is always good fun. Let us have it then.
BUTTONS: We asked The Questing Owl where to find Captain Waverly. He told us that we can find him in two places. The first is a place where one is floating, but not by the sea. He said there would be purple blankets on a green park. Then, the second place would be pure black. He said that after an uncounted distance, we would find ourselves at a confused place where one can never stay and one is always astray.
CINDY: Oh what a conundrum! The purple and green makes me think of the Heather, though.
HAZEL: That’s marvelous, my dear! The Heather! That’s got to be it.
BUTTONS: Yes, that does make sense! Well done, Cindy!
CINDY: Oh, it was nothing. You’re all being too nice. I just love those colors. Perhaps we shall take a trip to see the Heather again soon.
SHARPE: Yes, very well done, and thank you again for the wonderful meal. We must be going now, for the length of our journey is unknown to us and we must not be waylayed longer than necessary.
BUTTONS: Goodbye.
HAZEL: Goodbye. Oh Cindy do pick up the nuts.
CINDY. Gorbueugh morghabha!
SHARPE: Right.
BUTTONS: Towards the Heather I suppose.
SHARPE: Yes, it’s only a short ways to the Heather. I am awfully tired from that feast, but the walk will do the digestion well.
BUTTONS: Yes that’s quite true. A walk after eating always helps.
* * * * *
SHARPE: Here’s the Heather now. So lovely how it clings to the land, wrapping it tightly in its purple blanket. It’s just as the Questing Owl described.
BUTTONS: I don’t see any of that. All I see is purple bush in my face.
SHARPE: Of course, how stupid of me. You are too short. Here let me pick you up. There you go. Now do you see?
BUTTONS: Oh yes, things look quite different from your perspective. Look at that, I can see the Finch now, in that Dogwood. We should say hello. Don’t look too menacing.
SHARPE: I fear I’ve forgotten my sheep’s clothing at home.
BUTTONS: Oh Finch! Down here!
THE FINCH: Sharpe! I’ve told you before, I’ve no time for to be eaten by you. You be on your way now.
SHARPE: I’ve changed ma’am, I promise. I have no desire to eat you today.
BUTTONS: Finch, could I ask what you are doing here in the Dogwood?
THE FINCH: I am on a quest from the Questing Owl to build my nest.
BUTTONS: Shouldn’t you already know how to do that? Why did you have to ask the Questing Owl.
THE FINCH: Most finches are taught by the parents, but unfortunately, mine were taken from me be a particularly cruel cat before they ever had the chance.
LITTLE WORM: I think we might know who that cat might be, Buttons.
BUTTONS: And what, Ms. Finch, is so special about the twigs of the Dogwood? Aren’t there twigs everywhere?
THE FINCH: Why yes I can find some sticks any old place, but the Dogwood is indeed special. See how long and bendy it is. The Questing Owl instructed me that a nest held together with the twigs of Dogwood would be most durable and of the highest quality. Now I’ve said all I have to say to you. I don’t care to talk to Sharpe, for he is a friend of the Cat Who Fishes. The very same cat who murdered my parents.
SHARPE: Dear Finch, I’ve told you I’ve changed. I don’t eat animals any more. You can’t expect me to be liable for the actions of the Cat Who Fishes.
LITTLE WORM: So he’s friends with the Cat Who Fishes and didn’t think to mention it when Cindy and Hazel were talking about her? Poor form to say the least.
THE FINCH: I can see bits of that poor bunny’s tail in your liar’s mouth now. I’ve had it with your lies, Sharpe. I don’t know what your game is rabbit, but if you had any sense you’d hop along.
SHARPE: I’m doing my best. What more can I do?
BUTTONS: I think it’s true, Ms. Finch. He has changed, or at least he is trying to change. In fact that’s why we’re here. He changed because of Captain Waverly. Please, I beg you do not fly away, listen to what I have to say. I need to talk to Captain Waverly, but to find him, the Questing Owl has told us that we must find a hidden path where that leads to the confused place. He told us that it is a place of pure black. We think it might be near the Heather. Are you familiar with such a place?
THE FINCH: I simply won’t help you. That cat is an abomination and I have nothing more to say to you, as I have already said. Good day.
SHARPE: That’s quite naive, you stupid bird.
BUTTONS: Let’s all settle down. But Ms. Finch, the cat is only living according to their nature after all. And you do eat worms and insects.
SHARPE: She won’t answer now that you've caught her in her hypocrisy. She’s just a stupid little bird. Let’s move on.
BUTTONS: Very well. I am sorry we disturbed you Finch. We’ll be leaving you now.
THE FINCH: One more thing. If you are friends with the Cat Who Fishes, then you are no friend of mine, Buttons. Remember that.
SHARPE: The stupid bird flew off just like that. A most stupid and foolsome little creature.
BUTTONS: You should have told me you were friends with the Cat Who Fishes. Why did you hide that?
SHARPE: Hide? I hid nothing. I simply didn’t think it was worth mentioning.
BUTTONS: Perhaps if I had known, I could have avoided that catastrophe and the Finch would have helped us. It would be very useful to have a bird’s perspective to help us find what we are looking for. They see so very much.
SHARPE: The Cat Who Fishes has eaten many a bird, so it may be that they all hold a grudge against her, and by the logic of the stupid bird-brain, myself as well. I must say, I do not like birds.
BUTTONS: Well maybe some fault should be placed at the paws of the one who did all the killing?
SHARPE: The kitty is just acting in her nature, like you said. What is she to do?
BUTTONS: Perhaps she must kill to live, but she needn’t play with her food and cause so much torment.
SHARPE: I’ve never seen that myself. I think those claims may be exaggerated.
BUTTONS: Maybe you've got a soft spot for her that blinds you to terror she reigns on the Meadow. She sounds like a downright villain and I do not care for her after all that we have heard.
SHARPE: Perhaps we should go see her once and for all so you can see that she isn’t the monster that she has been made out to be.
BUTTONS: I—I don’t think that is wise. We have to get to the Heather after all.
SHARPE: Oh but it’s only a small detour to the River where she lives. I think you’ll quite like her. She is a most cunning and knowledgeable little Meadow critter. Yes, I do think that this is a splendid idea and that the two of you will get along marvelously.
BUTTONS: Perhaps it would be best to meet her, so as to make up my mind for myself rather than relying on received wisdom from others.
SHARPE: Yes, that is most mature of you.
BUTTONS: Very well, but on the way I shall instruct you in the making of a proper salad, so that we may hear no more about your habit of devouring any bush you can lay your eyes on until you can eat no more.
SHARPE: I really don’t know that I am the type to eat salads, Buttons.
BUTTONS: Those are the words of one who is ignorant in the craft of salad-making. The first thing one must determine when making a salad whether it should be heavy and filling or light and refreshing. As we only just ate a hearty meal, we shall stick to the light and refreshing variety. What do you make of that bush there?
SHARPE: As good as any! Shall I eat it?
BUTTONS: No! That is a Giant Hogweed. It won’t do at all.
SHARPE: I believe I could make it work.
BUTTONS: No! No, no, no! See that small green leafy plant? That’s Arugula. She has a fresh, nutty taste. Collect some of her leaves. And that plant, the large green leafs on the reddish stems—that’s Swiss Chard. She has an earthy taste. Collect some of her leaves. And that red bulb, that’s Radicchio. Collect some of her outer layers. She adds some crispy texture and sharpness to the flavor. A goodly assortment of fresh greens is the key to a good salad. It can be eaten like this, but we shall see if we might have chance encounter with a lemon tree. If we had the sense to ask Cindy, some hazelnuts would have added a wonderful twist to the dish. But go ahead, try some and see how it compares to a mouthful of Hogweed.
SHARPE: Let’s see here. My, that is better indeed. It’s quite refreshing, Buttons. You are quite wise to the ways of the leafy greens. As promised, it makes for a refreshing light snack. Ah, I see your ears pricking up. You must be hearing the whispering swishes of the River. Let us walk softly now, so as not to disturb her.
BUTTONS: Where is she? I don’t see anyone about.
SHARPE: She’s there on the River’s bank, stood perfectly still, perched on the edge of the water. The Cat Who Fishes. Marvelous creature. So small, not unlike yourself, little Buttons, but most deadly and efficient.
BUTTONS: I thought dogs and cats hated one another.
SHARPE: Where did you get such an idea? Dogs and cats are the bestest of friends. Oh, but enough of that, Buttons, observe. I think she’s onto one now. Quietly now, be very still. watch how her eyes track him through the water. Oh, she’s struck for him—the motion is so very quick! Oh, she’s got a hold of him now, with those sharp claws and her toothsome muzzle. Oh, here it comes now—ah, the bigness of him—what a catch. It struggles in her jaw, but see how she digs in and wrests him from his watery abode. A marvelous catch indeed.
BUTTONS: You sure do have a lot of admiration for killers. Are you sure you have it in you to change?
SHARPE: Well, tis a bit of an internal dilemma I suppose. And still, it’s not for me to force my new way of life onto others. The cat is a natural hunter after all. And why shouldn’t I admire the beauty and the skill of the sport?
THE CAT WHO FISHES: Can you two knock it off? You nearly lost me my lunch.
SHARPE: Madame we do apologize, we were only admiring the skill you demonstrated in your catch.
THE CAT WHO FISHES: Quiet, you dog-brained buffoon. You there, little rabbit, what is your name?
BUTTONS: My name is Buttons. We are sorry for disturbing you today.
THE CAT WHO FISHES: He’s already apologized dear Buttons, do keep up.
BUTTONS: Well, right, of course. Anyway, we're here because the Questing Owl gave us some clues, and though we've solved a little bit, we could use some help with the rest.
LITTLE WORM: I’ll talk quietly so as not to arouse them, but I don’t like the look of this cat. She has a violent bent. Oh she comes closer. I better keep quiet.
THE CAT WHO FISHES: You’ve got a smell to you, my dear. Fear, I’d call it. You poor little thing. And my, you are so little. You’re really no bigger than that River Trout, under all that fluff. Why don’t you go ahead and tell me the clues that you were given.
BUTTONS: She told us... She told us there would be a hidden path and—oh your whiskers are ticklish—she told us that there would be a confused place after—um what are you doing back there? Oh yes she said we would find the—hey, okay—she said the confused place would be found after an uncounted distance. She told us there would be a place—oh goodness—there would be a place of pure black—purple—green—floating—but, not the sea—never stay—always astray—some stand tall—many others fall.
THE CAT WHO FISHES: I see, I see. And what place did you have it narrowed down to?
BUTTONS: The Heather.
THE CAT WHO FISHES: For the purple and green, of course, I had the same thought. The riddle is quite simple.
SHARPE: Then you’ve figured it out! See Buttons, I told you, there is not a more cunning a creature in all the Meadow. Oh look, your catch writhes back to the River.
LITTLE WORM: Thank goodness she has backed off, that was quite the experience.
THE CAT WHO FISHES: Yes, he does writhe, but it won't do him any good.
SHARPE: But what do you mean by saying the riddle is simple? The Questing Owl described two different locations. How can that be simple?
THE CAT WHO FISHES: Sharpe, you really should know the Questing Owl better by now.
SHARPE: How do you mean, my dear?
THE CAT WHO FISHES: You are beyond help.
BUTTONS: Then you won’t help us?
SHARPE: I’ll lick behind your ears the way you like.
THE CAT WHO FISHES: I will tell you if you shut up right now you doggish oaf. I shall give you the first location. He mentioned a place where one floats, but not by the sea. That is the place where my river meets the heather. I know it well. Where some stand tall, but many others fall—that is the rotting copse where one may find many fallen trees. The second place I will leave as a surprise.
* * * * *
SHARPE: Is something wrong, we have not known each other long, so forgive me for being so forward, but something seems to be on your mind.
BUTTONS: I’m just thinking about our encounter with the Cat Who Fishes.
SHARPE: Ah, so you see she isn’t the monster that the others made her out to be.
BUTTONS: She is a villain, indeed!
SHARPE: No, no, not at all. She’s quite pleasant. You and her got off on the wrong paw is all.
BUTTONS: The wrong paw? If you weren’t there, I’m sure she’d have eaten me. But perhaps I shouldn’t expect you to think that’s such a big deal.
SHARPE: She would do nothing of the sort.
BUTTONS: Are you saying you would be fine with me going back there right now, without you?
SHARPE: Well—
BUTTONS: She is nice to you because you are too big to eat. It seems cats are cruel to anything small. She’s a murderer.
SHARPE: It’s not murder, she hasn’t a choice. She hasn’t got the insides to eat vegetables, she’d die.
BUTTONS: Surely she could change if she truly desired it.
SHARPE: No, it simply isn’t the case. And you wouldn’t say you think there should be no cats at all, would you? So if there are going to be cats, then there are going to have to be “murderers”, as you call them.
BUTTONS: Yes, I understand! It’s all quite logical, isn’t it? Yet I know there’s something missing because I know wrong when I see wrong. And you know it too, otherwise you would never have tried to change. Now I share your internal dilemma because I can’t make it all fit together.
SHARPE: You've got yourself all twisted ever since we saw the Finch. She is a hypocrite. With one wing she condemns the cat, with the other she gobbles up worms and insects.
BUTTONS: Do dogs have the insides to eat vegetables?
SHARPE: Yes, I can confirm that myself.
BUTTONS: Then that surely makes you a murderer, since you have the choice. How is it that you can eat a rabbit?
SHARPE: Oh there are many ways. There are those that believe a rabbit is best served in a rich sauces or even in a stew, owing to the toughness of his meats, but I learned it, passed down from my mother, that one ought to dress the rabbit in butter to soften him and to cook him on the spit until the edges are crisped and the juices are running. If one is inclined they will find it most flavorable to adorn him with a sprig of thyme or other sweet herbs from the garden.
BUTTONS: No, I meant ethically.
SHARPE: I see. Maybe we should get something to eat. Midday hunger is making us cranky and it would be best to take a break and lighten the mood.
BUTTONS: I’ve had enough of your feigned confidence. In your own way, you are a coward. You see the issue once and then you turn away and pretend it was never there. Well it is still there, just right behind you. Maybe we should just walk in silence for a while.
SHARPE: Okay, my dear. I’ll walk ahead for a bit.
LITTLE WORM: Are you alright, Buttons?
BUTTONS: I thought I knew what was right but now I’m not so sure any more.
LITTLE WORM: It’s not always easy to put the way we feel into words. What you feel is what is important, and the words will come with time.
BUTTONS: Thank you, Little Worm, that is what I needed to hear. You are a great friend. Might I ask you a question?
LITTLE WORM: Of course, Buttons.
BUTTONS: What do you feel about the Finch eating worms?
LITTLE WORM: I never gave it much thought before today, but I have been thinking about it, since I thought you might ask. Life is different for a worm. I don’t remember very much, so it’s good we talk about this now before I forget everything I thought about it. I don’t like the idea of being eaten by the Finch, nor do I particularly fear it. I don’t think much about the future. I know the future would stop if I were eaten, but I suppose it has to stop at some point anyway. It must be that a lot of worms have been eaten, but we are still so many. As long as there are many worms who get to live their lives, I think that it wouldn’t be my place to ask for more. Maybe that’s just the way of things for the worm. That’s what I think about the Finch eating worms.
BUTTONS: My, you are very interesting, Little Worm. I respect you dearly, but I’m not sure I could bring myself to ever be okay with rabbits being eaten. But then, I got the sense that Hazel and Cindy didn’t seem none too bothered over their friend, Alvin, being eaten by Wolf. It seems everyone has their own perspective on it. And surely the Finch is not okay with being eaten. I guess I just need to think about it some more.
LITTLE WORM: Well I respect you too, Buttons. I hope you can figure this all out.
SHARPE: Buttons, what are you doing all the way back there? Anyway we’ve arrived. There’s the copse.
* * * * *
SHARPE: I see many mushrooms along these rotting logs, but none of them appear to be Captain Waverly.
BUTTONS: Have you been counting the distance?
SHARPE: I have started and stopped many times.
BUTTONS: Well stop starting.
SHARPE: I can’t see any hidden paths.
BUTTONS: I can hardly see anything at all. It’s so dark now.
SHARPE: Yes, yes, I think I might fall asleep.
BUTTONS: We must be close now, just hang on a little longer.
SHARPE: My nose tells me that the Fox is about. Maybe a quick chase will invigorate me.
BUTTONS: Oh my he took off quickly.
LITTLE WORM: Buttons, I know a friend in these parts. You can find him on the Browning Leaf, near the medium-sized rock under the Sycamore Tree.
BUTTONS: I see the rock. Maybe I can find him. Oh here’s the leaf. Are you home? Little Worm’s friend? Do I have the right Browning Leaf by the medium-sized rock under the Sycamore Tree? What’s his name Little Worm?
LITTLE WORM: His full name is Xanthomonas Campestris, but you can call him Thom.
BUTTONS: Are you home Thom? Hello?
XANTHOMONAS CAMPESTRIS: Ah Little Worm, you’ve caught me at quite the hour. I was just beginning to deactivate. I see you’ve brought a friend, I suppose it would be rude to turn you away. How wonderfully delightful.
LITTLE WORM: Thom old chap, how are you?
XANTHOMONAS CAMPESTRIS: The Browning Leaf is a lovely substrate. I can’t complain. What is your friend called, Little Worm?
BUTTONS: My name is Buttons. Thom I’ve never spoken to anything as little as you before. I can’t even see you all the way down there.
XANTHOMONAS CAMPESTRIS: What is “down there”? I can never wrap my head around all your dimensions.
BUTTONS: There are only three.
XANTHOMONAS CAMPESTRIS: Eep. I’m sorry I don’t think I will be able to grasp this. Why don’t you come inside and have a tea?
BUTTONS: I suppose it would be rude to refuse. I’m not sure I quite know how to get down.
XANTHOMONAS CAMPESTRIS: What is “down”?
BUTTONS: Oh I think I’m getting it. My, it’s more spacious than I thought down here.
XANTHOMONAS CAMPESTRIS: What is “down here”?
BUTTONS: Thanks for inviting me in. My there are so many of you, can it be that all plants are teeming with little Thoms? How many Thoms have I eaten?
XANTHOMONAS CAMPESTRIS: That’s quite alright my dear, you go ahead and eat as many Thoms as you like.
BUTTONS: You promise you don’t mind?
XANTHOMONAS CAMPESTRIS: I haven’t a mind to mind with.
BUTTONS: That makes sense. Say, I meant to ask earlier, we’re looking for the confused place, where things are hidden and counting doesn’t happen. Do you know where we can find that place?
XANTHOMONAS CAMPESTRIS: You’re talking to a bacteria my dear, you’re already there.
BUTTONS: Little Worm, your friend isn’t making any sense. Little Worm? Are you there Little Worm? Say, where did my tea go? Thom? Oh, now where is Thom? It seems I am the one losing her mind.
* * * * *
CAPTAIN WAVERLY: Wasn’t that the goal all along?
BUTTONS: Goodness, a talking mushroom! And you’ve got a hat. You must be Captain Waverly.
CAPTAIN WAVERLY: The very same.
BUTTONS: What did you mean about losing my mind being the goal? Is this some kind of trap?
CAPTAIN WAVERLY: No, there’s no trap. I overheard your conversation with Thom. It just seemed like the direction you were headed.
BUTTONS: Are you saying the questions I’m asking could make me lose my mind?
CAPTAIN WAVERLY: You sound very conflicted, and one never knows how such conflicts will change someone in the end. Deep down, you know what is right. You must listen to your conscience, even when it is hard.
BUTTONS: That is very lovely advice, sir, but I fear the very problem is that I truly do not know what is right any more. It isn’t that it is too hard to do what is right, it’s that I can’t figure out what right is. Am I a murderer for eating plants, like the Cat Who Fishes is a murderer for eating the Finch’s family? Is it a tragedy that the Finch eats worms or that the Wolf ate Alvin?
CAPTAIN WAVERLY: You are deeply concerned about others and that is commendable. It has been said, by many wiser than I, that one ought to treat others they way they would like to be treated.
BUTTONS: Oh that too is lovely advice dear Mushroom, but I fear you’ve misapprehended my issue. You see I’ve asked others how they would like to be treated and as it turns out they would not like to be treated how I would like to be treated at all. What about the Cat Who Fishes. She cannot survive without eating meat, or so I’m told, so is it still wrong for her to kill? Does it matter what the fish want?
CAPTAIN WAVERLY: One would do well to remember that life looks different from others’ perspectives, and that one cannot expect to impose their own perspective upon others.
BUTTONS: I already know all that. That doesn’t help me. But you must be wise because Sharpe said that he decided he ought to stop eating animals after talking to you. Please tell me, how did you convince him? I must know, for convincing others to follow my advice, even after they have agreed that it is good advice, has always been so difficult.
CAPTAIN WAVERLY: Sharpe had stopped eating animals? Oh my. He told me he was having some concerns about eating critters of The Meadow. I only told him that he ought to listen to his instincts. He must have misconstrued that to mean that he must cave to his weak conscience. I meant his other instincts.
BUTTONS: You’re a fraud and I’m going to expose you. You stupid mushroom-brained idiot!
CAPTAIN WAVERLY: Hey! You get back here young lady. Just what do you think you’re doing!
* * * * *
SHARPE: Buttons, I’ve found The Captain!
BUTTONS: I found him too.
SHARPE: But you haven’t got your tail back!
BUTTONS: My tail? Oh I forgot all about that.
SHARPE: Look yonder, small Buttons. The event that starts the day.
BUTTONS: Sunrise?
SHARPE: Aye, I’ve heard it called thus.
BUTTONS: It’s been a long journey. What did the mushroom tell you?
SHARPE: I have great news! It turns out you were right from the very beginning. The Captain says I am torturing myself by not making any of the meat dishes my parents have taught me, and that I ought to cook a few of them from time to time.
BUTTONS: But what about the recipes I taught you? Don’t you think you ought to try some of those first?
SHARPE: What? Oh yes those all sounded quite marvelous. Truly, Buttons you are a chef of the highest quality and your dishes are most choicest indeed. For a rabbit, that is. Of course, a hound like myself has differing needs, and one can’t really expect the great lion to subsist on a diet of rotting vegetables.
BUTTONS: Lions are cats.
SHARPE: The great wolf, then. You understand.
BUTTONS: You sure are keen to follow Captain Waverly’s advice.
SHARPE: Well yes he is quite wise after all. He’s not like regular critters of the Meadow like you or I. He’s a captain after all!
BUTTONS: I forgive you.
SHARPE: Forgive me?
BUTTONS: For eating my tail. My, the sunrise sure is beautiful. Look how its light catches on the bottoms of those clouds.
SHARPE: Which clouds? Oh I see, over there. Yes it is quite splendid And—oh, where have you gone Buttons? Buttons? Ah there you are! Running down past the Fern! Why do you flee!
LITTLE WORM: You’ve found your sense at last my dear! Now don’t let up, you must keep running.
SHARPE: Buttons!
BUTTONS: I forgive you, Sharpe, but I surely do not trust you!
LITTLE WORM: Through the bush, Buttons! You’ll lose him here.
BUTTONS: Oh I am so tired, but I shan’t stop running!
LITTLE WORM: That’s the way Buttons, keep running!
BUTTONS: I am! I am!
LITTLE WORM: There, you can cross the Stream where it is narrow, and we shall surely escape his snout, should he pursue.
BUTTONS: Phew, I have not run like that in quite some time.
LITTLE WORM: I am so glad that you finally got your sense back. But why did you forgive him in the end?
BUTTONS: He’s trying. He’s a nutter, but he’s trying. I only wish I could have pushed him in the right direction.
LITTLE WORM: You did your best. His internal dilemma was too dangerous for you to be around.
BUTTONS: Yes, one must place importance on their own safety.
LITTLE WORM: It’s too bad that after all that trouble, you didn’t get anything out of your meeting with Captain Waverly.
BUTTONS: I wouldn’t say I didn’t get anything. Let me set you down so you can see.
LITTLE WORM: His hat! You’ve stolen the Captain’s hat!
BUTTONS: Now maybe the Hedgehog will listen to me.
Peanut Gallery