Eater of Dust

It was cheering to Snake to find out that Girl, too, was unhappy. But he knew even then that there was an uncrossable gulf of difference between them, because she was respected by all the animals—if she had a noble soul, somebody would know it.

But Snake was corned.

“Ooh,” said Deer from the top of his long ridiculous legs. “You grovel in the dust!” And Deer ran off.

“Ugh,” said Pig. “How abominable and dirty.”

“How laughable,” said Hyena.

Even the lizards laughed. And the birds didn’t deign to notice him, but then the birds were a snobbish lot at best. (As if they were responsible for being able to fly.)

And so the nobility of his own soul went unseen, and he was lonely. And while the days were uniformly balmy and all the animals ran and played and were happy, Snake slithered hither and thither in search of companionship.

He learned to climb in trees, hoping that somebody would notice him that way. But Monkey said “Poof! I can climb trees much better than you. You look silly way up in the trees. Get back in the dust where you belong.”

And he learned to swim. But Fish sneered. “You’ll never be able to swim like I can,” and he flipped a tailful of moss at Snake. “Get back in the dirt, you imposter.”

For a long time it had seemed to Snake that he was the only thing in the whole wide world that was unhappy. But then he found out about Girl.

He was squirming along the bank of a creek when he came on Girl and her friend the boy sitting together. The boy was leaning against a tree, eating persimmons and half asleep. Girl sat up straight, hugging her knees.

“You know,” said Girl, “I’m beginning to get a little tired of this place.”

And that was how Snake knew Girl wasn’t happy.

“Uh,” said the boy. He was lazy and liked to lie around in the sun. Snake could see that the boy was happy.

“It was all right when we had animals to name,” said Girl. “And while we had new things to eat. But now there’s nothing to do. We can’t go across the hedge to see what’s outside.” And she gestured with her head at the high thorny hedge that surrounded the place.

“And we can’t eat those big pretty apples,” she said, looking upwards at the two big trees that grew at the top of the hill.

“Uh,” said the boy.

“Sometimes I think there are too many restrictions around here,” said Girl.

But the boy was asleep.

Now Snake was overjoyed to find that someone else was not happy, and so he hurried into the open to begin a true friendship with Girl. But when Girl saw him she screamed. And the boy quickly came awake and made at Snake with a stick, as though to protect Girl.

From then on, Snake was even more unhappy. But he took to following Girl, always hoping that he could talk to her and make friends with her. Because he could see they had so much in common, both of them being unhappy. And if he had as important a person as Girl for his friend (actually Girl seemed to run the whole place) he might become beloved by all the animals. And as he followed, he saw Girl was turning more and more dissatisfied. In his interest and enthusiasm for the project, Snake even began to forget his antagonism for Father, who had made him what he was.

Finally Snake’s chance came.

It was another balmy day (all of them were, then) and Girl and the boy had gone together toward the top of the hill, to a spot near where the Big Apple Trees stood.

When the boy went to sleep in the sun—which was almost immediately—Girl got up and ran toward the Big Apple Trees. Snake followed her just as fast as he could, and though he couldn’t move nearly so fast as Girl, he stayed within sight...