Nevermind just going to paste it here:
Chitter bounced from one branch to another, covering ground – or rather, tree - as quickly as his red furred legs would carry him. A man is in the wood! Men are in the wood, he chattered as he passed by his neighbors. His warning was spread in chirps, grunts, barks, and hoots as others picked up his call and spread the word. Soon, all the creatures near his tree-hole den had either fled or gone into hiding in their own homes, whether nests or burrows or dens.
As he crawled through the knot hole that served as a doorway to his humble home, Chitter caught a glimpse of himself in the shiny surface he had found on the outskirts of the wood. He paused to admire his physique – red fur covered sinewy muscles, his white teeth – still sharp from gnawing on nuts – sparked below two large black eyes, and his red tail, streaked with black and grey, was the bushiest he had ever seen it this during time of year. Chitter; you are one handsome, very handsome, squirrel. Turning his head to the side, he ran a paw over his scalp, itching at a scar under his fur.
The squirrel darted around his hole, tidying a bit: the moss, leaves, and feather down he had gathered for his bedding was threatening to spill over into the rest of his living space, and he quickly packed it more tightly against the inner wall of the tree. Just about enough room for two, yes two, though it seemed bigger when I moved in…
As he efficiently cleaned his tree-hole nook, Chitter chanced upon a small silvery vine made of metal hanging from a tough twig he had worked into a crack in the wall of the tree-hole: on the chain hung a hard green clover. It didn’t feel like a clover, though. It wasn’t at all soft to the touch, and the squirrel had learned the hard way that it wasn’t edible; Chitter still had problems breaking open particularly hard nuts with his sore tooth. This will do nicely, I think, yes I do. If this doesn’t catch her eye, I’m not sure what will. I hope that Green-Cow-Skin-Man doesn’t mind I’m regifting his gift.
The red-furred squirrel tucked the chain and strange, rock-like clover into a small pouch he had lying on the ground underneath it. The pouch was made of cow skin, just like the coverings worn by Green-Cow-Skin-Man, and in fact was the wrapping the man had used when he gave Chitter the present in the first place. The pouch had several flaps and thinner sections coming from it, and when Chitter attached them all together just right, they allowed him to carry the pouch on his belly, with the flap covering the opening. It also left his arms free to pick up nuts when he wanted: he had already been gathering with it several times, and already had enough nuts to last a full winter – carrying food in a pouch was certainly better than carrying it in the mouth!
With the stony clover tucked securely in his belly pouch, Chitter slipped out of his hole and onto the tree branch. He sniffed the air for signs of predators, more out of habit than anything else: nothing much had bothered him for a while now, and even on the rare occasions that they managed to see the squirrel, they seemed uninterested in chasing him down.
He sprang from his branch to another, climbing ever higher to the top of the tree. When the branches began to bow under his weight, he settled for lower and thicker ones. This stony clover thing must be heavy, oh so heavy: I used to be able to get much higher than that. Then he began bounding from tree to tree, chattering to himself as his excitement mounted. When he reached a clearing in the tree, he looked up at the open sky. The sun was beginning to set. Got to hurry, hurry, hurry if I want to see her today! Then, with a flick of his bushy tail, he scampered around the clearing and off toward the stream.
A few minutes later, Chitter smelled Man. It was the same scent he had sniffed before when he had scurried all over the wood warning his neighbors: the odor of Man mixed with a horse’s smell. There was something else too, but nothing he had ever scented before. He paused for a moment, listening for movement, and heard nothing. Then with a squirrelly shrug he started off again, almost unconsciously angling his jumps toward the source of the scent. It’s on the way, yes, on the way, and the sun’s not yet set today. I can do both! As his curiosity pulled him toward the place the smells emanated from, he picked up his pace, and arrived in a tree directly over a smelly and awful scene.
A horse gnawed at a stand of tall weeds at the base of the tree, while two Men lay still nearby. Each had open wounds on them, as if some great hawk or falcon had swooped down and raked them with long talons. One of them was shorter and broader than the other, and had long fur coming out of his head, especially from around his mouth. Around his body, he had a shiny skin that looked more a beetle’s shell than fur. He was still slowly leaking blood. Next to his paw lay a sharp looking tool, like the ones that tree-cutters use to fell trees, though Beetle-Skin-Tree-Cutter-Man didn’t look like any of the other tree cutters he had seen, for that matter, he didn’t smell like a tree-cutter either – he was the one who smelled like sweaty dirt. I wonder if Green-Cow-Skin-Man knows he was here. I know he doesn’t like tree-cutters.
Next to Beetle-Skin-Tree-Cutter-Man lay another Man. This one was longer and thinner than the other, and he did not have the fur that the tree-cutter did. His mouth was hairless, and the only fur he seemed to have sprouted from the top of his head. Strangely enough, though he only had one eye, the other eye socket was filled with a rock of some sort –why would a hawk leave a rock in the eye hole it tore out, I wonder, yes I wonder? He also had a long metal stick in his hand, and it was covered with blood. Long-Hair-Rock-Eye-Man was definitely the one he had smelled earlier.
Chitter scurried down the tree truck and onto the ground, making sure that he stayed out of what he thought was arms reach for them both: they might be playing dead, like a nasty snake! When they did not move, he crept closer to the bodies, until he finally found himself next to Long-Hair-Rock-Eye-Man, or more specifically, next to one of Long-Hair-Rock-Eye-Man’s many pouches.
They weren’t pouches like Chitter’s pouch, as they weren’t made of cow skin and they didn’t have straps. Instead, his pouches seemed to be part of his silky skin. In one of them, he saw a large bulge, and his curiosity got the better of him as he burrowed into the pocket. He dragged out a large, flat, round, leaf-in-fall colored, shiny piece of metal. On one side, he saw a big lizard with wings like a bat, and on the other, it had lots of scratches that made it look like something had bitten it. Maybe they thought it tastes good, maybe so? Chitter was still wary of biting anything that he didn’t know was food, and so did not immediately put his teeth into it. He did, however, turn it back around to look at the lizard again.
The lizard was easily the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, well, at least more beautiful than anything not a squirrel, I think. Maybe I should give this to her instead – she’ll like it, it’s shiny! He quickly tucked the metal piece away in his pouch and sprang back into the trees, racing for the stream.
Wind whipped by him as he streaked from branch to branch. Hurry! Hurry! I hope she is still there, yes I do! I haven’t been back to see her since I met Green-Cow-Skin-Man! I hope she likes her present!
Chitter finally heard the babbling of the brook in the distance. After a few moments more, he finally leaped in the tree he had been searching for – her tree. He cast about looking all over for her, and finally spied her next to the stream, her delicate paw in the water. She was magnificent: full haunched and red furred. Her tail arched elegantly over her back, and the setting sun set off the highlights in her rusty red fur. She was every bit as beautiful as she was the last time she had seen here, though this time he found himself noticing even more of the wonderful things she did: the way she moved, the way she brushed her tail with her tiny paws. It was as if he saw her through new eyes.
Before he knew it, he had scampered down to sit next to her. My, has she shrunk – I remember her being bigger than that, yes I do. However, as he rushed toward her side and she turned to face him a look of terror passed over her face, and she chattered in fear. By the time he had reached her spot, she had bolted around to another tree and scurried up the trunk, angling for her own tree.
Chitter gave chase, assuming that she wanted to play like they had done in the past, but the pace she set was blistering, and, tired as he was from his long trip to the stream’s side, he could not keep up. Eventually, she darted in her tree-hole.
The chase over, Chitter ambled up to the hole and peeked inside. She jabbered back incoherently, chattering and barking. Why are you so afraid of me? Why oh why? But she would not, or could not answer. She babbled and chattered, and all Chitter could make out was “big” and “don’t hurt me.” He attempted to come into the hole, but found he could not get his head through the opening, for some reason, it was too small. No, he suddenly realized, it’s not small. I’m too big, yes far too big. He looked again at the other squirrel, and realized that she hadn’t shrunk at all, but that he had somehow become monstrously huge.
Chitter slumped away from the hole. No wonder she’s afraid of me – not even hawks and owls want me any more, I’m so big, oh so big. He trudged slowly over to the bank. I bet this is all Green-Cow-Skin-Man’s fault. None of this happened until I met him…
Chitter grabbed out the stony clover from his pouch and clutched it fiercely, wrapping the steely vine around it in a ball. Well this is what I think of you, Green-Cow-Skin-Man! With a heave, he hurled the stony clover out into the stream. With a plunk and a splash, it disappeared beneath the water. Still angry, he yanked out the flat lizard and reared back to toss it, too. As he did, he glanced back up toward the tree-hole his erstwhile lady lived in and faltered. He let out a sigh and let the weight of the metal drag his arms down. He looking down at the lizard, he noticed that a drop of water had fallen on it. As he watched, another hit it as well. Reaching up to his face, he felt his eye leaking and wiped the water away, clearing his vision. Then, with a squirrelly sniffle, he tossed the lizard into the stream, where it was swallowed by the quickly moving flow.
