When Rory was still only knee-high
to a Hyffer, he loved to climb. He would climb up his parents to sit on their heads, and
he would climb up the trees when he got older (though he used to have some trouble
climbing back down). His favorite place to climb, though, was the cliffs. He would sneak
his fingers into the tiniest cracks and scramble right up. When he got to the top, he
called out, "I’m the greatest climber there ever was!"Well, one day, he had climbed up an especially sheer rock, and called
out over the forest when a loud voice behind him shouted, "Oh no you’re
not!"
It was so loud, in fact, that it bowled him right over onto
his belly with his tail tickling his ears. Rory rolled himself right over again and sat
up. Before him sat a funny little creature with curly white horns and fierce green eyes. A
doryt! Rory quickly forgot his surprise, though and demanded crossly, "Who are you?
And what do you know about climbing?"
"I am Fernbiter, and I am the greatest climber there
ever was. Why, my littlest sister could climb these cliffs." Fernbiter stamped his
little hoof to emphasize the point.
"How about that one then?" Rory pointed to an even
taller cliff, with not even a crack for his clever fingers.
Snorting at the challenge, Fernbiter immediately went over
and started to climb, following ledges too narrow for a caterpillar. Rory jumped up to the
cliff, too, and pulled himself up as quick as you please, but when he put his hands on the
top, he turned and saw that Fernbiter was pulling himself up at just that very moment.
They both panted for a minute, but the doryt looked back at the cliff and sniffed as if to
say it hadn’t even been worth his time.
Furious, Rory said, "Well, I can certainly shout louder
than you can!"
"Prove it!" Fernbiter snapped back, glaring.
"YAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!" they yelled at each other.
Rory had to hold on to a little tree, and Fernbiter had to dig his hooves into the ground
to avoid being blown away by the force of the sound. It echoed around them like the roar
of the wind, and finally died away.
Fernbiter, a little taken aback, but not willing to admit it
said, "So you can shout, so what? I still have the longest horns." He sat back
on his haunches and admired the shadow of his curly horns.
Now if Rory had been a little older, he might have known not
to argue with a Doryt about the length of its horns, but instead he touched the points of
his antlers and replied, "Those little things? I’ve seen longer toenails on
worms!"
"I’ll show you!" Fernbiter jumped up and
lowered his head.
Rory had just enough time to lower his own antlers and start
to run. Their two heads collided with a terrible crack, and they both tumbled into the
dirt, dizzy and breathless. Dust settled all around and over them. Then Rory felt
something starting in his stomach—a giggle. He tried not to let it out, but he heard
a little snuffle beside him, and knew that Fernbiter was laughing, too. Side by side, they
lay there laughing, covered with dirt, until the sun went down, and it was time to go
home. But not before they agreed to meet the next day and do it all over again. Rubbing
his head, Rory said maybe they should do it a little bit softer next time. Fernbiter gave
him a slurp with his long tongue, and whole-heartedly agreed.
Curious
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