Chapter 2
Mousie had been checking her hat for three weeks.
Not constantly. That would have been ridiculous. But certainly more often than anyone should reasonably need to inspect a teal Carhartt hat.
Every morning before school, she checked the brim. Every afternoon when she came home, she checked again. Sometimes she turned it upside down and shook it.
Once, Dad caught her holding it up to her ear.
“What are you doing?”
“Nothing.”
Dad looked at the hat. Then at Mousie. Then back at the hat.
“Are you expecting it to say something?”
“No.”
She paused.
“Maybe.”
Dad nodded slowly.
“Fair enough.”
And walked away.
Mousie had good reason to be suspicious.
Three weeks earlier, that hat had fallen into the bear enclosure at the Milwaukee County Zoo. And Boris had found it.
Boris was a bear. A very large bear.
A very large bear who, as it turned out, could talk. At least to Mousie.
Before she left the zoo that day, Boris had told her there were places beyond the paths and fences. Magical forests. Secret caves. Creatures who sometimes needed help.
He told her that adventures had a way of finding people who kept their eyes open and their hearts full of wonder.
Mousie had been keeping both open ever since.
So far, nothing.
Until Saturday.
Saturday started like most zoo days. Dad forgot the water bottles. Mousie reminded him. Dad went back inside.
Then Dad forgot the sunscreen. Mousie reminded him again. Dad went back inside. When he came out the second time, Mousie was standing by the car with her arms folded.
“You ready now?”
“I think so.”
“You sure?”
Dad checked his pockets. “Phone. Keys. Wallet. Water. Sunscreen.”
Mousie pointed at his coffee sitting on the roof of the car. Dad sighed.
“Thank you.”
They made it to the zoo eventually. Mousie wore her teal hat. She always wore the teal hat now.
They saw the seals first.
Then the monkeys.
They stopped to watch a peacock strut across the path as though he personally owned the zoo. Dad bought coffee. Mousie got a pretzel.
Everything felt completely normal.
But as soon as they started toward the bears, Mousie felt it.
Not magic exactly. More like the feeling you get when you know someone is looking at you before you turn around. She slowed down. Dad kept walking.
“You coming?”
“Yeah.”
They reached Boris’s enclosure.
He was sitting near the rocks, exactly where Mousie remembered him. Big. Brown. Quiet.
Completely uninterested in the crowd.
Mousie walked closer to the railing.
Boris lifted his head. His eyes found hers. And for just a second, Mousie forgot there were fifty other people standing around them.
Boris looked at her hat. Then back at her.
“About time.”
Mousie smiled.
Dad looked down at her.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Boris stood.
“Your hat, Mousie.”
“What about it?”
Dad glanced over.
“Talking to the bear again?”
Mousie nodded. Dad took a sip of coffee.
“Tell him I said hello.”
“He says hello.”
Boris did not say hello.
Mousie took off her hat. At first, she saw nothing. Then something tiny moved inside the folded brim. She pinched it between two fingers and pulled. A leaf. But not a normal leaf. It was smaller than her thumb and bright gold. Not yellow.
Gold.
It seemed almost warm in her hand. Mousie looked at Boris.
“What is this?”
Boris lumbered toward the back of the enclosure.
“Come on.”
“Where?”
But Boris had already disappeared behind a cluster of trees.
Mousie stared after him.
There was nothing unusual about the trees.
She had seen them before. Three tall trunks. Some bushes. A rock. Behind them was the wall at the edge of the enclosure.
Boris could not possibly have gone anywhere. Then his enormous head appeared from behind the nearest tree.
“Are you coming?”
Mousie turned toward Dad.
He was reading the zoo map.
“We should probably hit the giraffes next,” he said. “Then maybe lunch.”
Mousie looked back at Boris.
He was waiting. She took one step toward the enclosure. Then another. The railing should have stopped her.
It didn’t.
The fence should have stopped her.
It didn’t.
The trees seemed to move apart as she approached. And suddenly Mousie was standing beside Boris.
She spun around. The zoo was gone.
Behind her stood a forest. A real forest.
Not the sort with sidewalks and signs telling you what kind of tree you were looking at.
This forest was thick and wild. The trees stretched so high that their branches knitted together overhead. Ferns covered the ground. Tiny lights drifted between the trunks like fireflies, even though it was the middle of the day. Somewhere nearby, water was running.
Mousie’s mouth fell open.
Boris started walking.
“You coming?”
Mousie ran after him.
“Where are we?”
“The Whispering Woods.”
“Why are they called that?”
Boris kept walking.
“You’ll hear.”
Mousie listened.
At first, she heard birds.
The creek. Leaves moving in the breeze.
Then something else. A whisper.
Very faint. She stopped.
“Did somebody say something?”
Boris kept going.
Mousie hurried to catch up.
A few steps later, she heard it again.
“Excuse me.”
She froze.
“Boris.”
“Yes?”
“Someone said excuse me.”
“Very polite.”
“Boris.”
He turned.
Mousie looked around.
“Where are they?”
Boris pointed toward the ground.
Mousie looked down. Nothing.
Then one of the ferns moved. A tiny brown nose appeared.
Followed by two round ears. Then two enormous black eyes.
A field mouse stepped carefully from beneath the leaves.
He wore what looked like a tiny satchel made from an acorn cap and string.
“Hello,” he said.
Mousie crouched.
“Hello.”
The mouse twisted his paws nervously.
“My name is Pip.”
“I’m Mousie.”
Pip blinked.
“You’re enormous.”
Mousie smiled.
“So is Boris.”
Everyone looked at Boris.
Boris sat down.
The ground shook slightly.
“I am appropriately sized.”
Pip looked back at Mousie.
“I’m lost.”
Mousie immediately stood.
“We’ll help you.”
Boris said nothing.
Pip’s ears lifted.
“You will?”
“Of course.”
Mousie looked around the forest.
“Where do you live?”
“Under the giant oak.”
Mousie nodded.
“Easy.”
She turned in a circle.
There were trees everywhere.
Hundreds of them.
Some were very large.
Mousie pointed.
“That one?”
Pip shook his head.
She pointed at another.
“That one?”
“No.”
A third.
“No.”
Mousie started walking.
“Come on. We just have to find the biggest tree.”
Boris remained seated.
Mousie stopped.
“Boris?”
He scratched behind one ear.
“Did Pip say he lived under the biggest tree?”
Mousie looked at Pip.
“No.”
“What did he say?”
“The giant oak.”
Boris nodded. Mousie waited.
“That’s it?”
“That’s what?”
“You’re not going to tell us where it is?”
“No.”
“Do you know?”
“Yes.”
Mousie put her hands on her hips.
“Well, that seems unnecessarily difficult.”
Pip nodded.
“I agree.”
Boris smiled. At least Mousie thought he smiled. It was difficult to tell with bears.
“What do we know?” Boris asked.
Mousie sighed.
“He lives under a giant oak tree.”
“And?”
“And…”
She looked at Pip.
“That’s all we know.”
Boris nodded. Mousie stared at him.
Then she understood. She crouched again.
“Pip, what does your tree look like?”
“Big.”
Mousie glanced at Boris. He said nothing.
“What else?”
Pip thought.
“The bark is rough.”
Mousie waited. That described nearly every tree she could see.
“What’s near your house?”
Pip’s ears perked up.
“A creek.”
Mousie pointed through the trees.
“I hear one.”
She started walking. Boris followed.
Pip rode on Mousie’s shoulder. They reached the creek a few minutes later.
It twisted through the woods, shallow and clear, tumbling over smooth stones.
Mousie looked up and down the bank. There were oak trees everywhere.
“Okay,” she said. “We’re getting closer.”
Boris sat. Again.
Mousie groaned.
“What now?”
Boris looked at Pip. Mousie understood.
“Pip, what else is near your house?”
Pip thought hard.
“Flowers.”
“What kind?”
“Purple ones.”
Mousie searched along the creek.
Yellow flowers. White flowers. Tiny blue ones. No purple.
They followed the water. After a while, Mousie spotted something ahead. A patch of purple flowers growing beneath a fallen log.
“There!”
Pip jumped excitedly on her shoulder.
“Yes! Those!”
Mousie grinned.
“Now we’re really close.”
She looked around. Oak trees.
Still lots of them. She turned toward Pip.
“What else?”
Pip closed his eyes. He stayed quiet for a long time. Then his eyes opened.
“The knocking.”
“What knocking?”
“Every afternoon there’s knocking above our burrow.”
Mousie listened. Nothing.
Then—
Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap.
She turned. Again.
Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap.
A woodpecker clung to the side of a tree farther down the creek. Pip nearly fell off her shoulder.
“That’s it!”
They ran. The tree beside the woodpecker was enormous. Its trunk was wider than Boris. Roots twisted across the ground like giant fingers. At the base of the tree was a small opening almost hidden beneath the leaves. Pip jumped from Mousie’s shoulder.
“Home!”
He raced toward the opening. Before he reached it, three smaller mice burst out. Then another. Then two more. Then a mouse wearing a tiny red scarf.
“Pip!”
She grabbed him. The two hugged so tightly that they rolled into the leaves. For a while, everyone talked at once. Mousie couldn’t understand most of it. There were squeaks.
Crying. Laughing.
Someone brought out an acorn. Apparently this was important. Eventually Pip’s mother walked over to Boris.
“Thank you,” she said.
Boris shook his head.
“Wasn’t me.”
He looked at Mousie. Pip’s mother turned. Mousie suddenly felt shy.
“I didn’t really do anything.”
Boris raised an eyebrow.
“You found the creek.”
“Pip told me about it.”
“You found the flowers.”
“He told me about those too.”
“And the woodpecker.”
Mousie thought about it.
“I just asked questions.”
Boris stood.
“Exactly.”
Pip ran over. He held something out to Mousie. A purple flower.
“For you.”
Mousie took it carefully.
“Thank you.”
Pip hugged one of her fingers. Then raced home.
Mousie and Boris started back through the woods.
For a while, neither of them spoke. Mousie kept looking at the little purple flower in her hand.
Finally she said, “Boris?”
“Yes?”
“Was that really an adventure?”
Boris stopped.
“What do you think an adventure is?”
Mousie shrugged.
“Dragons.”
“No.”
“Treasure?”
“Sometimes.”
“Danger?”
“Occasionally.”
“Being chased?”
“I try to avoid it.”
Mousie laughed. Boris began walking again.
“Most adventures don’t know they’re adventures until you’re halfway through them.”
Mousie thought about that.
They reached the trees where they had entered. Boris stepped between two trunks. Mousie followed.
For a moment, everything went dark. Then—
“Mousie?”
She blinked.
Dad stood beside her.
The bear enclosure was in front of them. People were walking past.
A stroller squeaked. Someone behind them was complaining about the price of popcorn.
Dad folded the zoo map.
“You ready to go see the giraffes?”
Mousie looked at him.
“How long was I gone?”
Dad frowned.
“Gone where?”
Mousie looked toward the enclosure. Boris was sitting near the rocks. Exactly where he had been.
She stared at him. He stared back. Dad started walking.
“Come on, kiddo.”
Mousie put her teal hat back on. Something scratched against her forehead.
She stopped. Reached inside the brim.
And pulled out the tiny golden leaf. Still there.
Mousie smiled. Then she noticed something else.
Across the enclosure, Boris lifted one enormous paw.
Between two claws was a tiny purple flower. He winked.
Mousie ran to catch up with Dad.
“Hey, Dad?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you think there could be adventures happening around us and we just don’t notice them?”
Dad thought about it.
“I think that’s probably where most of them happen.”
Mousie looked back one last time.
Boris was gone.
She adjusted her hat.
Then took Dad’s hand.
And kept her eyes open.
