Roo and the World of Crum

Roo and the World of the Crum

Carrie A. Keller

Copyright © 2022 Carrie A. Keller

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING

Conneaut Lake, PA

First originally published by Page Publishing 2022

ISBN 978-1-6624-7989-2 (pbk)

ISBN 978-1-6624-7988-5 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Roo and Fen

Roo and the Stag

Roo Finds a Cave

Roo and the Turtle

Roo and the Snake

Roo Finds His Future

Epilogue

About the Author

Crum (kram, krum), n.

Crum are an evolutionary offshoot of Hominidae, a species of Homo sapiens. They have hidden and thrived in the great old forests since the days of cavemen. At full adulthood a Crum is no more than thirteen inches tall. They are tough, intelligent, and quite strong. Their gray-brown colored skin and green hair allow them to blend seamlessly into the landscape. They are able to hear the thoughts of animals and communicate with them. Crum are four-fingered, have earholes instead of ears, and have short protruding snouts with nostrils above wide, smiling mouths. A Crum clan normally live in great burrows dug under giant trees that they call Home Tree. The many rooms and halls of the burrow are made habitable with smooth stone and carved wood. The burrow is illuminated by phosphorescent mushrooms that have been cultivated in niches along its walls. The average population of a home tree burrow is seventy-plus Crum. They are long-lived, if allowed to die of natural causes, and will live approximately two hundred years. Crum hibernate over winter, and every spring they emerge from their burrow to stretch their sleepy muscles, clean out the winter bedding, and clear away the leaves and small branches the winter had left around Home Tree.

Chapter 1

Roo and Fen

Roo sat on the smooth rock enjoying the spear of sunlight coming through the leafy tree canopy to alight on his gray-toned face. He closed large luminous green eyes and ignored his friend Fen, the fox, who was pretending to sleep behind him. Wild leaf-green curls like new ferns sprang from the top of Roo's oval head with abandon, his cheeks made rosy with youth and the sun's warmth. Roo, although tall for a Crum, was roughly the size of a squirrel. Here, at the base of the loamy forest, he breathed deeply the clean earthy smells of the old leaves, new growth, and wild flowers surrounding him. Roo and Fen had spent the fresh spring morning searching the old forest for their favorite foods: mice for the fox, grubs and berries for the young Crum.

Roo turned suddenly and caught the warm sepia glow of the fox's eye as it followed the erratic flight of a glowingly iridescent blue butterfly. Grinning, Roo said, Fen, we've lazed here long enough. It's time we got back to the burrow. Grabbing hold of the red-gold mane, he swung up behind its head. Roo then adjusted his hunting pouch to hang across his body and the strap of the small stone-tipped spear to lie across his back. He was clothed in a soft gray-brown shirt and knee-length short pants made of mole leather along with the ever-present and useful shum (a woven, camouflaging, body-sized cowl that all the Crum wore around their necks). Roo was barefoot today, the fine weather having convinced him to leave his tall rat-leather boots at home.

The forest surface was full of dapples of light and new emerging sprigs as Roo rode on Fen's shoulders. Roo listened to the simple flow of the fox's uncomplicated thoughts (That mouse I ate was good. What's that smell? Oh look—squirrel!) and other similar nonsense. Roo sent Fen thoughts of his gratitude and delight in the quiet ride through the forest undergrowth with the music of countless birds far above.

Roo and Fen had been companions since the previous summer when Roo had stood outside a fox den near his burrow, waiting to see if any of the younger foxes there were curious and amenable to a friendship with a Crum. Not every animal wants this, so a Crum will look for an animal that is intelligent and less wild as they must be accepting of such a bond. Fen had approached Roo with open and easy thoughts, telling Roo his name while communicating a willingness to allow him as a passenger to ride on him. They became close over the summer even though Roo and Fen were unable to go exploring every day. When they could, they loved mornings like this: being free to forage, hunt, and check out the changes the winter had wrought to their territory.

Near home they passed a rabbit burrow where a few Crum were talking with and riding the rabbits outside. Roo greeted his friends in passing and smiled when Fen stopped to allow a group of Crum younglings chasing a chipmunk to run safely between the fox's legs.

Roo's mother, Cor, frowned up at him as he arrived at the great old oak tree, the burrow's open door fitted between two extending roots. Still handsome with short waves of deep-green hair, she was as tall as Roo. Did you gather food for all of us, or were you just eating as you wandered around?

Knowing her son's ways and seeing his shameful smile, she added, Well, grab your boots and take your sister and the food baskets. I'd like you to add to our food stores by gathering enough food for everyone's evening meal.

His sister, Lyl, came running out the burrow door with two large root-woven baskets. Like her mother, Lyl was dressed in short boots with the thigh-length sleeveless panels worn over shirts and short pants. The panels front and back were held tight to their waists with long belt ties. Shums were draped around their necks and down their backs. Roo helped Lyl adjust the harness strap across Fen's back and across the fox's chest, and then they both climbed on. Scratching a favorite spot behind the fox's ear, Roo asked him, Fen, will you take us back to that dug-up spot that we were at this morning?

With fondness and just a little envy, Cor watched them go before heading through the burrow's doorway. There was always so much to do after the winter rest.

Lyl, several years younger and petite, was ecstatic, taking in the wonderful scents of the forest, the brush of leaves across her legs as soft and warm as the agile fox easily carrying them. With a smooth even lope, Fen quickly arrived with Roo and Lyl to the area of disturbed dirt clods that a rooting badger had turned over earlier that morning. They took the baskets off the fox and got busy, feeling though the freshly turned soil for its hidden treasures. It didn't take long for the baskets to be filled with fat creamy grubs and some curls of soft new fern sprouts that emerged from the moist earth nearby. The small size of a Crum meant they usually found provender easily. They ate their food raw, and it didn't take a lot of small protein-rich insects and plants to fill them. As Lyl secured the lids of the food baskets, Roo called to his fox. The dirt-dusted muzzle of the fox betrayed his own digging efforts while Roo and Lyl had foraged for the clan's meal. They placed the full containers across the back of the prone animal and carefully climbed on top. Fen rose and asked the Crum the question of which direction to go in. Let's go back by the way of the creek, suggested Lyl. (She hadn't been far from the burrow this spring season and wanted to take advantage of the outing.)

As they approached the creek, the babble and sparkle of the small stream was joined by the cries and flapping of a distressed bird. Fen slowed his steps until they were able to see a large female raven, one of her talons tightly caught in the scramble of winter deadfall at the water's edge.

Roo and Fen stayed a good distance away in order to not panic the heaving bird while Lyl stepped slowly and quietly up to the raven, softly cooing and sending reassuring thoughts while looking into the bird's eyes. The raven quickly quieted and allowed Lyl to untangle its foot then stroke its shiny feathers. You are a Crum, said the bird, looking closely at Lyl's head of green curls. I've seen Crum before, all around a giant red oak tree. It is good that you were able to free me from this mess of wood. It had shifted and collapsed while I was pecking at a snail in the water. I have been stuck here all morning! said the raven. Lyl told her that she was happy to be here to release her and that she hadn't made friends with a bird before now. They exchanged names, and Lyl found out the raven was called Bac.

With nothing to lose and everything to gain, she asked respectfully of the large intelligent bird, Ahh, Bac, would you let me fly upon your back? The grateful raven nodded and bowed low, and Lyl carefully climbed onto the raven's shoulders.

Hold tight to my ruff feathers and press your knees to me. I'll be careful not to unbalance you, instructed Bac. The raven then leapt from the ground and flapped into the air. Lyl's breath caught with excitement as they quickly rose to the treetops! Watching with a mixture of fear and joy, Roo waited until his sister flew out of his sight. Then, rebalancing the baskets as Fen shifted from sitting to standing, Roo and Fen began their slow trek back to the burrow.

Upon reaching Home Tree, Roo corralled a number of the younger Crum and had them help with the lowering and unloading of the baskets. Roo thanked Fen for the provided transport and watched as Fen's bushy tail disappeared toward the fox's den. He then turned to seek his mother inside the burrow where he found her tucking away the empty food baskets. She had once been a great hunter; but now, as the clan leader, she stayed close to the burrow, organizing the food stores and keeping everyone at their chores.

Roo told Cor about Lyl making friends with the raven as they headed toward the main entrance door. They stepped into the airy brightness outside and gazed up at the