The Loudest Quiet Sound

When the sun slid down behind the hill, the wind lay down in the long grass and did not get up again.

Not a leaf moved. Not a twig ticked. The whole forest was holding its breath.

Under the old oak tree, behind the round wooden door, a little fox opened his eyes.

"Sun down," whispered Nuno. "Fox up."

He wound his blue scarf twice around his neck, took his lantern pole from its hook, and stepped outside. He leaned close to his own lantern, on the lowest branch of the oak, and breathed out as softly as he could.

Hhhh.

Tonight, even that sounded loud.

Then something came crashing through the dry leaves like a very small thunderstorm.

"NUNO! It's so QUIET! Why is it so quiet? Can you hear how quiet it is?"

"Not just now," said Nuno.

It was Pip, a very small squirrel with a very large tail and an even larger voice.

They walked to the Bridge together. Pip talked the whole way. Nuno lit the lantern — hhhh — and then he stopped, with one paw in the air.

"Pip," he said. "Listen."

Tip.

It was the smallest sound Nuno had ever heard.

"Where?" shouted Pip. "WHERE? Is it THIS?" He shook a twig.

The sound was gone.

"I think it only comes when we don't," said Nuno.

So they stood still. Pip held on to his own tail with both paws, to help.

Tip. … Tip.

There, on the glass of the Bridge lantern, was a moth. It was bumping its soft head against the light, very gently, again and again.

"It's knocking," whispered Pip.

It was the first time Nuno had ever heard him whisper.

After that, they found them everywhere.

At the Pond: pat. One drop of dew letting go of a reed.

In the Meadow: rrsp, rrsp, rrsp. That one took a long time to find. It was a snail, having his supper, and he was the loudest thing in the whole field.

Each time, Pip's whisper got smaller.

"Nuno," he breathed, at the Stone. "The night isn't quiet at all. It's just little."

Nuno lit the Stone lantern — hhhh — and for once Pip heard that too.

At the Birch, Pip climbed onto Nuno's back, and they went up the hill without a word.

At the top sat Oona.

Oona was a large round owl who sat there every night and never said a word. Nuno lit the last lantern — hhhh — and she began to hum, low and slow, like a kettle far away.

That was how the forest knew that the night was safe.

Pip slid down and sat between them. He listened to the hum with his eyes shut.

Then he opened one.

"There's another one," he whispered. "Under the hum. It's very close. Tup-tup. Tup-tup. I think it followed us."

He looked behind him. He looked under his tail.

Nuno took Pip's paw and laid it on Pip's own chest.

Tup-tup. Tup-tup.

Pip's eyes went round.

"It's me," he said. "Has it been there all the time?"

"All night," said Nuno. "A lantern says someone is awake, and you are not alone. That one says the same thing. Only from the inside."

Pip kept his paw where it was, and listened to himself, until he fell asleep.

When the sky grew light, Nuno went back down the hill. At every lantern he breathed in — just a little sip of air — and the light folded itself up and went to sleep.

He tucked Pip into his nest in the hazel tree, and went home.

"Was it a quiet night?" asked Mama Fox.

"It was the loudest quiet I ever heard," said Nuno.

"Those are the best ones," said Mama Fox. "Sleep well, my night fox."

Nuno curled up in his bed of leaves and put his tail over his nose. And he listened.

Tup-tup. Tup-tup.

And Nuno slept. All day long.

Den højeste stille lyd

Da solen gled ned bag bakken, lagde vinden sig i det lange græs og rejste sig ikke igen.

Ikke et blad rørte sig. Ikke en kvist knækkede. Hele skoven holdt vejret.

Under det gamle egetræ, bag den runde trædør, åbnede en lille ræv øjnene.

"Sol ned," hviskede Nuno. "Ræv op."

Han viklede sit blå tørklæde to gange om halsen, tog sin lanternestang ned fra krogen og trådte udenfor. Han lænede sig helt hen til sin egen lanterne på egens nederste gren og pustede ud, så blidt han kunne.

Hhhh.

I nat lød selv dét højt.

Så kom der noget brasende gennem de tørre blade som et meget lille tordenvejr.

"NUNO! Her er så STILLE! Hvorfor er her så stille? Kan du høre, hvor stille her er?"

"Ikke lige nu," sagde Nuno.

Det var Pip, et meget lille egern med en meget stor hale og en endnu større stemme.

De gik sammen hen til Broen. Pip snakkede hele vejen. Nuno tændte lanternen — hhhh — og så standsede han med den ene pote i luften.

"Pip," sagde han. "Lyt."

Tip.

Det var den mindste lyd, Nuno nogensinde havde hørt.

"Hvor?" råbte Pip. "HVOR? Er det DEN HER?" Han ruskede i en kvist.

Lyden var væk.

"Jeg tror kun, den kommer, når vi ikke gør," sagde Nuno.

Så stod de stille. Pip holdt fast i sin egen hale med begge poter for at hjælpe til.

Tip. … Tip.

Dér, på glasset i Broens lanterne, sad et møl. Det stødte sit bløde hoved mod lyset, ganske blidt, igen og igen.

"Det banker på," hviskede Pip.

Det var første gang, Nuno nogensinde havde hørt ham hviske.

Efter det fandt de dem alle vegne.

Ved Dammen: dryp. Én dråbe dug, der gav slip på et siv.

På Engen: rasp, rasp, rasp. Den tog lang tid at finde. Det var en snegl, der spiste aftensmad, og han var det højeste på hele engen.

For hver gang blev Pips hvisken mindre.

"Nuno," åndede han ved Stenen. "Natten er slet ikke stille. Den er bare lille."

Nuno tændte Stenens lanterne — hhhh — og for en gangs skyld hørte Pip også dét.

Ved Birken kravlede Pip op på Nunos ryg, og de gik op ad bakken uden et ord.

På toppen sad Oona.

Oona var en stor, rund ugle, der sad der hver nat og aldrig sagde et ord. Nuno tændte den sidste lanterne — hhhh — og hun gav sig til at nynne, dybt og langsomt, som en kedel langt borte.

Sådan vidste skoven, at natten var tryg.

Pip gled ned og satte sig imellem dem. Han lyttede til nynnen med lukkede øjne.

Så åbnede han det ene.

"Der er en til," hviskede han. "Nede under nynnen. Den er helt tæt på. Dunk-dunk. Dunk-dunk. Jeg tror, den er fulgt efter os."

Han kiggede bag sig. Han kiggede under sin hale.

Nuno tog Pips pote og lagde den på Pips eget bryst.

Dunk-dunk. Dunk-dunk.

Pips øjne blev helt runde.

"Det er jo mig," sagde han. "Har den været der hele tiden?"

"Hele natten," sagde Nuno. "En lanterne siger: nogen er vågen, og du er ikke alene. Den dér siger det samme. Bare indefra."

Pip lod poten ligge, hvor den lå, og lyttede til sig selv, indtil han faldt i søvn.

Da himlen blev lys, gik Nuno ned ad bakken igen. Ved hver lanterne trak han vejret ind — bare en lille slurk luft — og lyset foldede sig sammen og lagde sig til at sove.

Han puttede Pip i hans rede i hasseltræet og gik hjem.

"Var det en stille nat?" spurgte Rævemor.

"Det var den højeste stilhed, jeg nogensinde har hørt," sagde Nuno.

"Det er de bedste," sagde Rævemor. "Sov godt, min natteræv."

Nuno rullede sig sammen i sin seng af blade og lagde halen over snuden. Og han lyttede.

Dunk-dunk. Dunk-dunk.

Og Nuno sov. Hele dagen lang.