Father Pea Pod's Arc

Chapter 1 of 1

Father Pea Pod pressed his hand against the wall of his home and felt it give. The green shell had grown thin over the summer. A crack ran from the door to the round window. Through that crack, cold air already leaked in. His children slept behind him, and the first frost was days away. He had one job now: keep his family warm through the cold season, or watch that crack split their home apart. Mother Pea Pod stood beside him. "It won't hold," she said. "Not through the freeze." He knew she was right. He pulled on his coat. "Then I'll find someone who can help." Sister Pea Pod tugged his sleeve. "Can I come?" Behind her, Baby Pea Pod slept in a nest of dry leaves, one thumb tucked in its mouth. Father Pea Pod knelt and kissed the baby's forehead. "Stay and keep watch," he told his daughter. "I won't be long." He walked to the white farmhouse across the field. Farmer Ted and his wife Sue had welcomed the pea family the day they sprouted in his garden. They fed them. They watched over them. Father Pea Pod trusted them the way he trusted the sun. He knocked on the low door of the porch. Sue opened it. Dirt streaked her apron, and her sleeves were pushed up. She looked down and saw his face. "What's wrong?" she asked. "Our home is breaking," he said. "The shell is too thin. The cold will get in." Sue called over her shoulder. Farmer Ted came out, gloves still on his hands. He crouched to hear the small voice. Father Pea Pod told them everything. The crack. The children. The frost. Farmer Ted rubbed his beard. "We can't fix a pea pod," he said slowly. "But we can build a new one." Sue nodded. "Bring your family inside tonight. We'll start at first light." They worked through the next day. Farmer Ted cut boards and nailed them into a small wooden shelter beside the barn wall. Sue lined the inside with straw and old wool blankets. It was plain and square, nothing like the round green home. But it was thick. It was warm. It would not crack. Father Pea Pod carried Baby Pea Pod inside. Sister Pea Pod ran through the door and laughed at how warm it felt. Mother Pea Pod squeezed his hand. That night the first frost came. White crept across the field and over the old pea pod home. The green shell froze and cracked all the way through. But inside the wooden shelter, the pea family slept warm. Father Pea Pod lay awake, listening. His family was safe. Yet the new shelter sat right against the barn, and inside that barn, something began to scratch. A slow, dry scratching in the straw. He sat up. Whatever it was, it was close to his sleeping children.