The cave needed to be widened -- that much was inevitable. What had started as a temporary home for Walks Without Rhythm and his mongoose had become a permanent home; from there, it had become a home for the two of them and a great hulking lump of a tortoise. Slide would have been satisfied with just that -- the three of them eking out an existence in a fairly inhospitable place -- but then more and more things had happened. More and more people had shown up, had collected, the way clouds sometimes piled up on the horizon.Slide would never have cast Meets-the-Sea out -- but with her had come the fennec (a gift from Fix), the frenetic little thing, and then there were suddenly two children, just out of the filly stage. It was enough to make his mind whirl. Where would they put the food stores, if more space had to be made for living space? What about the water stores -- the hollow boulder that he had somehow, using all of his strength, pushed on top of the cave? Their water would deplete much more quickly now.
If he let them, of a night these thoughts would keep him up -- he would go stand at the mouth of his cave and survey the borderlands. As much as Meets-the-Sea had tried to soothe his thoughts, sometimes she was not there, having given in to wanderlust, or sometimes she could not help.
Today was the product of one of those nearly sleepless nights. Having sent everyone out of the cave, he had, with the tortoise's patient help, cleared out most of the front room of the cave, and was working on battering away the thin pieces of rock that prevented entry into the second, somewhat smaller room. It had been mere chance that it was discovered: he had dragged in a branch heavy with fruit, leaned it against the back wall, and it had made a hollow noise, suggesting something lay beyond. Now he was hammering it with his forehooves, drumming them against the stone, breaking it off flake by flake.
The tortoise, next to him, was merely ramming against the wall with the full force of his weight and shell. He had no hooves to use to strike, and Slide wondered whether he would have any brain left after this work. Knows No Better was clearly not smart, but he was strong: the last impact of his great shell, which made a hollow "thock!" sound, sent the last bit of rock tumbling down into a dusty heap at their feet.
Sticking his head into the second chamber, Slide sneezed violently at all of the dust, and looked around: it was nearly as big as the first, and completely empty. The floor was solid rock, and there were roots coming down from the ceiling, dangling nearly to the floor: perhaps some wily borderlands plant had managed to pierce the cave roof in search of water. Picking his way over the heap of rocks into the chamber, Slide gripped a mouthful of the roots and almost immediately spat them out -- bitter.
He clucked his tongue at the tortoise, who obediently plodded forward -- and if beady little black tortoise eyes could light up, Knows No Betters' did. The tortoise seized the roots in his mouth, dragged backwards, and ripped all of them clearly out of the roof of the cave. A moment later it stood chewing with evident relish.
Slide found himself smiling at his earnest, but dumb, companion: "Well done, tortoise." In that moment, Knows No Better earned himself several dinners of the crunchiest, juiciest leaves around -- a far cry from the usual fare he ate, more along the lines of 'whatever he could catch.'
-*-
That evening, when Many Voices, Meets-the-Sea, and Desert Spring returned home, they would find the cave twice its size -- and the tortoise, still chewing the roots, contentedly standing in the second room.
Walks Without Rhythm quietly enjoyed the blank looks that his daughters gave him; only Meets-the-Sea seemed to understand what he had done, in that subtle effortless way she read him. (At times, she was a little frightening. That ability had developed during her stay in the borderlands. Slide's smile grew a little warmer the more he thought about it.)
"I have widened it," he said, by way of explanation. "Now we have room to sleep in the second. You must thank the tortoise," he said, gesturing lightly with a hoof. Many Voices opened her mouth to actually thank him -- her attention having been elsewhere -- but then clicked it shut, shooting a glance at Slide, who merely smiled at her: thank the turtle, indeed!
The tortoise continued chewing.
