A (3:30)
Warm socks and thinking about it now, he adds a fourth, plus an extra hat and two more scarves. Prickles isn't sure and but he suspects that caves can get very cold indeed and he isn't taking any chances. It may be the height of summer here in sleepy Forest, with warm sunny days spent curling up into a ball and rolling down the grassy slopes, racing his friends to the bottom. But where he's going, it is winter. Everything in life is balanced out, you see, and that means when it's warm and sunny in the top half of the world, the bottom half is much, much colder. And when summer arrives in the bottom half of the world and the sunshine shifts down there for a while, the top half gets a lot colder instead. And Prickles is going to the other side of the world, all the way around and all the way down. And it'll be no more shorts and T shirts for him. It'll be thick jumpers and Wellington boots. And warming his paws by the fireside. Prickles dad is a firm believer in the motto, there's no such thing as bad weather, only bad clothing. And Prickles was brought up hearing this line on every single rainy day. And every single time he complained that, oh, it was too hot. Much, much too hot. Over time he's learnt that his dad is probably right. On this last evening, before he disappears, he sits in the garden, leaning back into his red and white striped deck chair and toasting a marshmallow on a fire, the gooey white blob stuck onto the end of a very long stick. It's a wonderfully warm evening, though, and the fire is more because it looks pretty than because it's needed. So every now and then he trundles inside and reaches into the freezer for an ice cube. His mum has made some special ice cubes, each with a whole cherry frozen inside. And when the ice is quite melted away in his mouth, he gets this extra special frozen sweetness rolling around his tongue. Melted marshmallows and frozen cherries. Prickles is in heaven. What do they eat in New Zealand? He suddenly asks his dad, worried that it'll be something terribly different and he won't like it at all. You'll be just fine, his dad reassures him. They take a quick look on the Internet and Prickles sees it all seems quite familiar to him. Prickles likes excitement in his life, but not on his plate. His Plate is a place of safety in the beginning, middle and end of each day, something that he can look forward to because it's familiar. He hears friends talking about spices and exotic dishes and he smells the delicious smells that come from their lunchboxes in school. But Prickles is perfectly happy with his cheese sandwiches with a tomato if he's feeling adventurous. He finds it hard to sleep that night, knowing there are so many firsts the next day. The first time he goes on a school trip. The first time he'll fly with Albatross Airways. The first time he'll leave the Northern hemisphere and go all the way to the southern one instead. The first time he'll spend a day, many days, without either his mum or his dad by his side. But he knows he'll also have many bests, many laughs and wows and whoa's. His mum has given him a sealed envelope for each day of the trip while he's away, numbered from one to six, and he's going to open them in order. She's also given him six of his favourite chocolate bars, one for each day, so he can have a little bit of home with him in the morning. Prickles is ready to leave and his backpack is sitting at the bottom of the stairs and waiting for him. He's about to head out of the door when suddenly he remembers something and dashes back to his room. He grabs his teddy, George, from his place on the pillow and rushes back down, stuffing George into a side pocket and whispering to him, sorry, I nearly forgot you. Let's go on an adventure, George. The teddy smiles placidly back the way he always does, his little worn nose and paws and tummy showing the signs of many other adventures he's taken with Prickles before. If you were to ask George, he'd say that he knows for sure he won't leave the backpack because Prickles won't want his friends to know he's there too. But that's fine by him. George's job is just to be there in the background, offering hugs and a listening ear when they're needed. They head off to the airport and Prickles waves shyly to the owl, who sits at the reception and points them in the right direction. He hands over his backpack and watches as a label is put in place announcing his name and destination. And then the backpack disappears from sight behind some flapping curtains. Prickles crosses his spines and hopes to see it again. All his school friends are there and of course his teacher, Mrs. Merry Feathers, and they giggle and chatter excitedly as they're led out to their waiting albatross. The school has booked out their entire fleet of albatrosses for this trip, and Mrs. Merryfeathers hands out their selected seats. Quiet kids at the back, noisy troublemakers up the front. There are excited squeaks and overly dramatic groans, but Nobody argues with Mrs. Merryfeathers. She's a kindly owl who always dresses in a colourful waistcoat and a silk scarf, who makes everything from mathematics to geography interesting and fun. Once everyone is aboard their albatross and the pairs of chickadees have handed out blankets and made sure all seat belts are securely fastened, they get ready for takeoff. Prickles eyes up the Runway, hazy in the heat of the early morning, and decides that eyes closed is definitely less terrifying than eyes open. He feels the awkward flip flap flop of the albatross feet slapping against the hardened earth and then the wind rushing into his face. He pulls the blanket a little higher and a little tighter and listens to the swish of wings slicing their way through the air. And then the flip flap flop is no more and there's just glorious silence. The sun on his face and the wind rustling down his spine, and he dares to open his eyes and look down on the world. Now, in an ordinary space and time, this trip would take the best part of an entire day and an entire night. But this is no ordinary space and time. This is Sleepy Forest, where magic can happen at the drop of a daisy's petal. And the little chickadees barely have time to put on aprons and hand out trays of steaming hot macaroni cheese before they're checking once more that everyone has their seat belts in place because the albatrosses are coming in to land. Prickles has just got used to the sensation of being on the back of an albatross and was almost beginning to enjoy it. The landing involved a good deal more of the flip flap flop sounds from the albatross, until the huge white bird expertly tilted his feathers and they came to a halt right outside the small terminal. Welcome to Dreamy Forest, a sign said, and Prickles was hardly surprised at all when he saw tortoises busy cleaning the Runway, just as he'd seen back in Sleepy Forest and a flamingo leading a group of albatrosses in stretches and a slightly grumpy owl sitting at the reception desk. As they left the building and climbed onto the waiting bus, the bus driver, a goose, guided them to a brightly lit building with the Happy Hostel in glowing neon letters, a kiwi a small brown bird with a long curving bill checked them in, exchanging delighted hellos and welcome backs with Mrs. Merryfeathers. A good batch this year, said Mrs. Merry Feathers, gesturing towards the group. A very good batch. Ask Prickles here about hedgerows sometime. He's quite the expert. Prickles blushed to have been singled out, and the kiwi smiled and winked at him. Nature lover? She asked. Prickles nodded enthusiastically. Very much so, he said. I hear you've got lots of it here. Nature, I mean. Lots of it. Second to none, she pronounced proudly. Most beautiful landscapes in the world are here. I mean, I'm a bit biased, of course, and yes, I do work for the New Zealand Tourist Board, but you'll see. Wait until tomorrow. And with that she handed out room keys and gave instructions about the showers and told them where the games room could be found and reminded them that if they felt chilly there were extra blankets in the boxes beneath the bunk beds. Prickles had never stayed in a bunk bed before, and he was pleased when Camo let him take the top bunk. He carefully climbed the miniature ladder and sat on the bed, feeling very high up and very important, and then he had to climb down again because he'd forgotten his pyjamas, and once he was tucked up in bed, he climbed down yet again, padding quietly across to his backpack and easing the zip open. As silently as he could, he pulled George out and scurried back to his bed. Curled up with George, Prickles was soon fast asleep. He opened his first envelope in the morning. It was a photograph of his family, and on the back his mum had written in her familiar looping handwriting, have a wonderful day. I'll be thinking of you. Love, Mum, with three large X's after it for kisses. Prickles propped the photo up beside his pillow, tucked George under the blanket so he'd be warm during the day, and scurried to the dining hall. Today, announced Mrs. Merryfeathers, they were going to try climbing and abseiling. Prickles couldn't have been more excited. He'd seen pictures of people climbing up vertical walls, of sheer rock faces, ropes and harnesses and helmets in place, and he'd seen a video once of someone bouncing merrily down a wall with the same ropes and harnesses and helmets, pushing off every few meters with their heels before coming to a stop just before the ground. Mrs. Merryfeathers led the group away from the happy hostel and across the meadow towards the mountains. Everyone gathered around as two tuatara lizards cracked endless jokes about showing them the ropes Guiding them into harnesses and tightening the straps beneath their helmets, and then giving a demonstration of hauling themselves up the rock face. One of the lizards stayed on the ground and held the rope and the other slowly made his way. 5, 10, 15, 20 metres up the side of the mountain. He pointed out each foothold and handhold he was using. Sometimes dipping his hands into a little bag of chalk that hung around his middle. Helps with the sweat, explained the lizard, who was safely on the ground. Means your hands won't slip. Or your paws. Or trotters, whatever you've got. The group all nodded solemnly, trying to remember every place the lizard put his little hands in order to haul himself up, up, up to the very top and a little grassy bank. Right, he called down. Who's first? Koko put up his hand. He was already good at climbing trees on account of being a koala, and was curious to see how a rock face was different. A chalk bag was ceremoniously clipped around his waist by the lizard on the ground. And then something complicated was done with a little silver metal bar attached to his harness. And suddenly Koko was safely tied onto ropes and ready to begin his ascent. Prickles watched with the others, calling out when Koko couldn't see the next hold and guiding him to the right spot on the rock face. Left a bit. A bit more. Yeah, that's it. You've got it. Go Coco. Prickles hopped from one foot to the other, excitedly awaiting his turn to give it a go. Once Koko was safely installed on the grassy bank, he waved down to the others. Easy, he called. Everything was easy once you'd done it. The chalk bag was lowered down on a rope by the lizard from above. And this time it was clipped around Prickles waist. He put his paws in and covered them with a soft white dusting. He stepped up to the rock face and looked for the first hold. There. There it was, marked clearly in the white chalk the lizard and Koko had both used. He pulled himself off the ground and clung to the rock, wondering what to do now. Left leg up a bit, the lizard said helpfully, and Prickles glanced down to see the tiny ledge perfectly placed as a step up for his little foot. His face was pressed up against the rock face and as he slowly hauled himself higher and higher, he felt closer to nature than he ever had. He could peer into the crevices and see colourful lichens and mosses growing inside. From one giant crack, a colourful parrot peeked out at him. Sorry, said Prickles, a little out of breath. Just passing Through. Won't be long. The parrot smiled at the hedgehog and shuffled to the edge of the crack. Take your time, he said wisely. It's about the journey, not the destination. Prickles swung his left arm up to the next hold. The parrot retreated once more. He'd seen hundreds of school groups climb past his nest and offered the same advice to all the creatures. Some of them took it, some of them didn't. But the ones that listened were always the ones who came back for more climbing and more rock faces. Always. The view from the top was breathtaking, and Prickles plumped himself down next to Koko and the Lizard, delighted to be on firm ground 20 metres up in the air. They sat and watched as the rest of the group slowly took their turn to climb up the rock. And then, as a whole, they called down to Mrs. Merryfeathers. Oh, come on, miss. It's fun, it's easy, you'll Love it. But Mrs. Merry Feathers shook her head. If I wanted to get up there, I'll fly. Now listen to that lizard as he tells you how to abseil. They all watched carefully as the lizard showed them how to slide the ropes through their fingers. Prickles thought about the videos he'd seen, people bouncing down the walls. But he decided to take it slowly. The views were incredible from up here and he wanted to take in every moment. It was as he had quickly learned all about the journey. He smiled at the parrot as he passed his cave, and the parrot in turn saluted him with a colourful wing full of feathers. By the time he reached the bottom, Prickles was already imagining other places he could go and climb. The next morning's picture was of a warrior, sword and shield and all, and his mum had written, have fun, my brave little warrior. I'm so proud of you. They went mountain biking, faces turned to the sun, riding along paths that weaved between mounds of soft purple heather. The day after, the picture was of a bird flying high in the sky, and his mum had written, I just know you'll be soaring over there. I love you, Prickles. They went kayaking, gliding across the glassy sea and peering down into the depths to see rounded boulders and swaying seaweed and crabs that scuttled into hiding places and fish that moved solemnly from one side of the bay to the other. Then the day after that, it was a picture of a snowman, and his mum had written, I wonder if it's cold enough for snow over there. Stay warm, Wear your scarf. They went high into the mountains and Prickles tried skiing for the first time, learning to slide and glide and swoop and swerve across the soft white snow. The sun sparkled and danced, making it look as if the mountain was covered in a wedding dress beaded with a million dazzling diamonds. Then after that, Prickles opened the envelope to see a picture of a sheep, and his mum had written, don't just follow the crowd, Prickles. Be yourself. Be proud of who you are, because I definitely am. They went to a farm and watched a sheepdog rushing around a field, grouping together flocks of sheep so that they became masses of creamy white wool clouds being gathered into one huge cloud that swept its way down the side of the mountain and into the warmth of the waiting barn. And on the final day, the card showed a picture of a book and his mum had written, I can't wait to hear all your stories when you come home tomorrow. Have a wonderful last day. I love you. This was the day that Mrs. Merryfeathers had been waiting for everything else she had done before. The rock face where they had climbed and abseiled was like an old friend to her. She had watched the clumps of heather that sprawled alongside the paths the mountain bikes had taken grow rounder and into bigger mounds with every passing year. She knew the underwater world of the COVID as well as she did the view of the sparkling sands from where they launched the kayaks. She had swept down the mountainside on skis a thousand times, it felt, sending up soft sprays of snow that delighted the children and, following their chance, doing it again and again. The sheepdogs would now answer to her calls, for she had learnt them from the farmers who showed her how to create the cloud of sheep and guide them to safety. But today, this day, they were going somewhere Mrs. Merryfeathers had never been before either. The Waitermo caves were as much a first for her as they were all the children. Under her careful watch, Prickles solemnly dressed himself with the bright orange hard hat and practised turning the torch on and off. He'd never been caving, but being a hedgehog, loved dark places and couldn't wait to see what was waiting inside. The group were led first into a giant cavern as big as any Cathedral, and Mrs. Merryfeathers pointed out the stalactites that clung to the ceiling, long, drooping points of rock that had formed from single drips over thousands of years. And the stalagmites that pushed up rigidly from the ground, smooth surfaces dipping this way and that as they probed the dark world above. They took it in turns to whistle or hoot like an owl, and the sounds echoed around and around, repeating more and more quietly until they were back to silence in a long tunnel. Prickles heard a rustling above and looked up to see thousands of bats hanging from the ceiling. They winked at him as he went past. One used a wing to point out a spare foothold, and Camo and Koko helped turn Prickles upside down, and for the briefest moment he hung there too, in a world where everything sort of made sense and sort of didn't at the same time. And then he curled up in a little hedgehog ball and bounced to the ground and rolled along the tunnel, breathing in air so fresh and clean it felt as though it must never have been breathed before. And then they went even deeper underground and were put into groups and guided into little rowing boats, and one by one were asked to turn off their head torches. Prickles was the last to turn his off, sending the group into absolute darkness. He blinked a few times just to be sure his eyes were still open, and then he felt the boat sway a little from side to side and heard the oars being dipped into the water and the drips of water that came from the oars and fell into the underground river. They moved forwards, everyone holding their breath, and the only sound the gentle thunk of the oars in the rowlocks and the lapping of the water against the hull of the boat. And then the little boat rounded a corner and the cave ahead was lit up in a soft light that was in one moment green and in another moment blue. And peering closely, Prickles could see there were thousands upon thousands of glowworms weaving their magic and lighting up the darkness. The only place like it in the world, whispered Mrs. Merry Feathers behind him. Isn't it wonderful? It was like nothing Prickles had ever imagined before. The world, he thought, was filled with more beautiful places than even his imagination could create. The glowworms spread out along the sides in the roof of the passage looked almost like a billion stars twinkling across a night sky. Prickles went to bed that night with images pouring through his mind, but the one that stayed to the end, the one that finally saw him hold George a little closer as he snuggled down to sleep, was the long rocky tunnel stretched before him, glowing in a soft green and blue light as the river sparkled and danced and the boat rocked gently from side to side and feeling as though he was flying alongside the star Sam Sa.
