The Second Wave by Michael Tod Page A

when this is, because the shadows at High Sun start to get shorter.  We have a celebration then, because we know that spring and summer are on the way, and that winter will not last forever.’  She smiled at the inquisitive youngster, encouraging him to ask another question.
    ‘What’s a celebration?’
    ‘That’s when all the squirrels get together to thank the Sun and enjoy themselves.  We have feasting on our favourite foods, play games and chases and tell stories, usually about Acorn, the first squirrel in the world.’
    ‘And Primrose – who wouldn’t go in the boat?’ Chip asked.
    ‘Yes.  Do you know that story?’  Marguerite sounded surprised.
    Chip remembered that he had heard it when listening secretly with his parents that September night and, guided by an instinctive loyalty, replied,  ‘Yes, I heard it somewhere’, and followed immediately with, ‘Where do you have these celebration things?’
    ‘It has to be outside, for all of us to get together.  That’s why the winter one is sometimes late.  We have to wait for a warm enough day.’
     
    The snow lay for three days, then a warm south-westerly wind came, with rain on its back, and the drifts shrank to dirty ridges before disappearing altogether.  In the mild spell that followed the Celebrations were held.
    Tansy tried to join in, but her mind was away on Ourland.  The funny little squirrel she had brought away from the Cold Ones in the hollow tree stayed near her most of the time, always asking questions.  A male of her own year, Tamarisk the Forthright, was also paying her attention and making disparaging remarks about Chip whenever he saw an opportunity.
    ‘Why do you spend so much time with that little sqrunt?’ he had asked her whilst Chip was within ear-twitch.
    ‘He needs me more than you do – Mouth!’ she replied.
    ‘That’s a matter of opinion,’ replied Tamarisk, immediately regretting his remark as Tansy turned her back on him, her tail indicating only too clearly that she had nothing more to say.  He sulked away.  Tansy’s thoughts turned back to the pine marten and what she might have to do to get Marguerite to take some action.
     
    Crag had waited for Chip to return to the Temple Tree, assuring Rusty that it must be the snow that was keeping him from his duties, and that his training and his fear of the Sunless Pit would bring him back.  However, when the snow had gone and the weather had improved, Crag left the Greys and Rusty collecting metal, and went alone to the Blue Pool.
    The colour startled him as the pool came in sight, azure under the clear winter sky, and he almost allowed himself a moment of pleasurable appreciation, but this was soon mastered and he pressed on with the task in hand – finding his errant son and bringing him back to help collect the sacred metal.
    The Greys were now proving to be troublesome and lazy, not working as hard as he wished, and idling if he was not there to supervise.  The metal store in the Temple was not growing as fast as he wanted it to.  Every paw was needed.
    One female, Ivy, obviously older than the others, had been asking questions.  Why did they collect the metal?  How long had they been doing it?  Why did they come to this part of the country near other red squirrels but not have anything to do with them?  Did red females ever hold equal positions to males?
    It was this last question that Crag had found hardest to answer.  There had never been females on Portland who had been anything other than producers of young squirrels, and more recently metal collectors, and they had not been good at either of these duties.  Even Rusty had only ever managed to produce one dreyling, and he was a disappointment.  Rusty was not much use at collecting metal either.
    This female at the Blue Pool, though, who called herself Marguerite, appeared to hold a position and have equality.  It must be part of their degenerate ways.  He had told Ivy that females were not