The next week passed uneventfully for the beavers. There was rain. That was the problem. The beavers hated rain because they claimed it got in the way of progress. So they read. Boss read some leadership manuals, O’Strengthy read books on how to have the biggest muscles, and O’Lazy and O’Smiley chortled over joke books that O’Wisey vehemently despised. O’Worky read books on work ethics (whatever that was; O’Lazy ran away from those books at first glance.) and O’Wisey read and reread and rereread and rerereread the Declaration of Woodland Independence and the Constitution of the Forest. The former of the two was created to separate forest animals from human control, while the latter created peace and organization among the species of animals.
As soon as the rain ceased, O’Wisey was outside faster than Boss could blink. After wandering for a few hours, he noticed what seemed to be a bump in the distance. As he approached, he saw it was a hill with almost a flat top. Almost-Flat-Top Hill, he labeled it. Yet he thought he heard the wind whispering, No… Ignoring it, he went up to the hill and patted it. He immediately determined it was almost completely hollow. There’s got to be a way into here, somewhere! He circled the hill until he felt a weak spot. Applying force to the area, he tumbled forward as the covering collapsed and he fell flat onto his face.
Looking back, he saw a thick layer of vines dangling as if nothing had happened. Assuming the vines were an entryway, he spun around and glanced at the interior of the hill. The first thing he observed was that several tiny cracks in the roof allowed sunlight to filter through, dappling the floor with specks of light. He also noticed that there were small depressions below each of the holes. He connected these to the impluviums (small pools for collecting rainwater inside of a house) that were used during Roman times. The architect must have been a supreme genius! He tore his gaze away from the floor and looked at the walls. He saw little niches in the walls…perhaps an area for placing belongings? No. It couldn’t be that. So…He inhaled in shock as his developed mind determined exactly what the niches were: shelves for books!
“This is a library! How could I not have realized that?” That…that…that…the wind whispered back to him. Slapping his forehead with a mighty paw in embarrassment, he strode forward. Yes, they were shelves all right. He then noticed a table at the far end, which he assumed was the librarian’s desk. Feeling hectic, he jumped up and down in glee. A library! Just perfect!
As he spun in jubilant circles, his eyes glimpsed wood in the corner. Dumbstruck, he crept to it and blew as hard as the big bad wolf to clear away the dust. What was beneath the dust was not driftwood; it was a worn-down trapdoor in desperate need of repair. Wishing he was as strong as O’Strengthy, he seized the rusty, dull silver handle and heaved…and heaved…and heaved, until he shot back across the inside of the hill and hit a shelf, which he identified as sandstone mixed with rock. Creaking and groaning in pain, he pulled himself to an upright position. He limped over to the now ajar trapdoor and looked down warily.
All he could see in the gloom below was a set of rickety old wooden stairs. He gingerly placed one paw…then the other on the stairs. More confident of himself, he accidentally applied more weight than necessary and with a scrape, the stairs collapsed beneath his weight. “Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh!” he screamed as he bulleted towards a stone floor. As he hit the ground, he detected two things: the ground was actually softer than what it appeared to be, and that large torches in the four corners flared up of their own accord the second his tail touched the ground.
Grumbling about his unexercised body shape, the bruised beaver stood up. He heard very quiet whispering voices stammering, the lower landing. He saw, as on the floor above, that the walls were full of shelves imploring him to use them. O’Wisey noticed, however, that this chamber was much cooler than the one above it. He knew that sunlight could not possibly reach so far. However, the beaver’s eyes caught on some markings on the back wall appearing to look like the outline of a…door! Before he could move, the fur on the back of his neck rose in fear as he heard the sound of a something landing right behind him. As he spun around slowly, he heard a low, ominous growl from an animal that seemed to be twice his size. He smelled an unfamiliar rank scent that did not have a particularly aromatic aroma. Suddenly, he saw who the intruder was… “AAH!!!!!!! A BADGER! AAH!!!!!! HELP!!!” The badger roared and O’Wisey quickly shut his mouth.
“So, O’Wisey, you have discovered the Hill of Knowledge,” the badger stated.
“Oh, that’s what it’s called, eh? Spiffy name. And who might you be?” O’Wisey asked in confusion.
“I am King Boreal, the 492nd Badger King to date. I have gained much in my ascent to power, including the ability to know things such as your name,” the king snorted. This beaver was more insolent than he had expected.
“This here hill was one of the Seven Ancient hills during the reign of the Badger Kings of old, before those mentally disturbed, huge, two-legged, no-furred, vicious ruffians known as humans-” here he snorted in disdain and anger, “-arrived. There was… let me see… The Hills of Creativity, Music, Battle, Magic, Healing, and Earth & Sky. When people arrived, the hills disappeared. They were only legends, stories told to little ones before bedtime. This is going to go down eternally in history- the first time a hill has been rediscovered!” The king lectured O’Wisey about the histories of the hills. Soon, however, O’Wisey got bored and rolled his eyes from side to side in wonder. Hi eyes latched on to a trapdoor in the corner.
O’Wisey darted like a cheetah to the trapdoor and tried opening it. This time, however, it wouldn’t budge even a percent of an inch. He shook his head at his own embarrassment after squinting into the dust and noticing a rectangle-shaped keyhole. “Locked. Don’t know wot happened to the key.” The king said nothing and strode forward, seemingly ceremoniously. He slipped off one of several golden chains around his stout neck. It had a dazzlingly bright emerald key, and O’Wisey realized that it was in the shape of a book.
“In the hope of a discovery of a hill, the keys to special chambers in the hills were passed down from badger king to badger king and hidden carefully.” The king took the key, slipped it into the keyhole, and gently turned it and pulled the door open without any effort. The door ominously creaked open with a faint scent of dew, moss, and damp rock. A rope ladder descended from the door to the floor below.
The two carefully climbed down, as the thin, brittle rope swung back and forth. However, the second the two creatures touched the ground, a black cloud descended upon them. "Aah! Bats!" O'Wisey screamed as the pests bit and struck hikm. Whack! O'Wisey hit two with his tail and the king knocked out several tens of them with one powerful lash of his collosal paw. O'Wisey realized that the only rescues was opening the top door, which had swung shut from a draft of wind.
Apparently the king was thinking along similar lines, so the two battled, clawed, pushed, and shoved their way toward the door. Suddenlt, O'Wisey noticed a tiny gap between him and the stair. Dashing faster than he had ever run in his life, he bulleted to the rung ladder and shot up it in a manner resembling how as squirrel would climb trees.
One more step...
The bats furiously concentrated around him, but he gasped, shoved his hand through the black cloud, and pushed the door open. It was as if he had been suffocating, and he had regained his breath at the second the wooden structure opened. Dizzy, he collapsed and fell backwards, crashing to the ground in an unconscious heap.
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