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“Then let’s keep them hidden,” said the bear. “I’ll find some out-of-the-way place to hide myself while you run reconnaissance in South Wood.”
Prue thought about the idea for a moment before saying, “And you won’t mind? I’m not sure how long it’ll take me. Hopefully I’ll get some help once I get to the Mansion.”
“Will I mind?” asked the bear. “Camping in the woods? Prue, my friend, I wouldn’t hesitate to remind you that I am, in fact, a bear. After all.”
And so it was settled. Esben would be secreted away in the trees, safe from those who might thwart their quest, while Prue hunted out the whereabouts of the bear’s old machining partner.
After several days of walking, the unusual traveling party (a mole, a human, and a bear; each more than double their neighbor in size) arrived at a workaday iron ladder, which Gwendolyn gestured to with her tiny paw. “HERE IT IS,” she said. “THE PATH TO THE OVERWORLD.”
They bid their farewells to the Sibyl, promising another visit once their task had been completed, and wished her luck on her city’s reconstruction. Then Esben and Prue began the long climb up the ladder, which ended after some distance at the bottom side of a manhole cover. It was slightly ajar, and a shaft of light poured into the dark chamber.
Prue, at the top, squinted at the light. With one arm braced against the ladder, she pushed at the cover, widening the sliver of daylight. She caught a whiff of the forest air, and it rushed into her lungs as she breathed deeply. After so many days breathing stale air in the dark vacuum of the Underwood, it was brisk and refreshing. Esben was just below her, and he nudged her shoe with his hook, saying, “What do you see?”
“Light,” said Prue. “Lots of it.” She heaved again at the iron disc and grunted under the weight. “I can’t quite . . . ,” she started.
“Here,” said the bear at her feet. “Let me.”
A bit of acrobatic reorganization occurred as the twelve-year-old girl shifted to one side of the ladder to let the one-ton brown bear overtake her. The bear, with the slightest flick of his arms, threw the manhole cover aside, and the long chamber was filled with light and air.
The bear breathed deep. “That’s more like it,” he said.
“Is it clear?” asked Prue.
The bear crept his snout a few inches above the lip of the hole. “Seems like.”
They crawled into the sunlight, finding themselves in a deep, dappled forest. Light fell in ribbons between the branches, newly bedecked in the buds of spring. Shadows were everywhere, though compared to the dun of the underground tunnels and chambers, it was as if they’d stepped into the sun itself.
“Any idea where we are?” asked the bear. A simple dirt path cleaved its way through the dense forest; having climbed from the manhole, they found themselves standing to one side of this road.
“You’re the Woodian here,” said Prue. “I don’t have a clue.”
They’d not stood there long before a quiet jingle could be heard in the distance.
“Shhh,” said Esben. “I think something’s coming.”
Prue frantically waved her arms at the bear. “Get hidden!”
Esben, flustered, was about to leap behind an obliging shield of evergreen huckleberries when a badger appeared from around a corner, towing a bright spangling rickshaw. When he arrived at where Prue and Esben stood, he came up short and stared at them. A little radio sitting in the plush red seat of the rickshaw blared some frenetic sitar music, and the purple baubles dangling in a fringe around the canopy almost seemed to dance to the beat.
“Of course,” whispered Prue to herself.
The badger stared confusedly at the mysterious girl and the hook-handed bear in the knitted cap. He looked down at the open manhole. “Did you both just climb out of there?” he asked.
“Yep,” she said, smiling. “Do you know where we are?”
The badger looked shell-shocked. He answered, “Just this side of South Wood.” He paused, looking back at the manhole. Then back at Prue. “Do I know you from somewhere?”
“Maybe,” said Prue. “Don’t suppose you could give me a ride into town.”
The badger swallowed loudly, eyeing the bear’s twin hooks. “Just you? What about your bear friend?”
“I don’
t actually exist,” said Esben, improvising.
The badger raised his eyebrow.
“Right,” said Prue. She then turned to Esben. “I think this is where we part ways. This seems like as good a spot as any for a hiding place. Lots of cover, middle of nowhere. And you’ll have the manhole for a quick escape if you need to.”
