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Tuckle was a fat little squirrelbabe with absolutely no wits about him. He managed to knock pears out of the trees and right onto his head every few days, and on more than one occasion had nearly drowned himself trying to catch the sun's reflection on the Abbey pond. His intentions were always well - he wanted to bring Mother Seras a treat, or cheer up the Abbot when somebeast fell ill - but he often caused more mischief than most Abbeybeasts expected from a whole pack of Dibbuns. He was such a troublemaker that when he one day disappeared for hours, most beasts went into a panic, scouring the pond and organizing search parties to range into the woods, not a one of them imagining the babe might actually be behaving himself. Just as the parties were about to set out, Seras strode onto the lawn, with Tuckle held in her good paw. The squirrel had not followed the other Dibbuns out to snack after their midday nap; rather, he had sat in his bed, mumbling to himself purposefully. He was still mumbling as Seras set him on the ground in front of Abbot Medrugg, a fat mouse with an overlong tail.

Medrugg frowned at the tiny creature sternly. "Tuckle, you had us all very worried."

"A'sorry, farvur h'abbit."

"Why did you not come down after your nap?"

"Was verra bizzy, farvur h'abbit. Hadda memmer da poem."

This elicited a snort from Seras. "You great fibber!" The badger shook her ruined paw at Tuckle scoldingly. "We all know you never listen when anybody tells you a poem. You don't even know half the Dibbun songs you dance to!"

"Tucko norra fibbur! If you no lissen, I tell Marden nevver talk'a you agin!"

"Marden...?" Medrugg held up a paw, stalling whatever Seras was about to say. "Marden. You mean Martin?" Tuckle nodded, sulking. There was an immediate excitement around the little squirrelbabe, which Medrugg hurried to quell. "Martin spoke to you! What did he say?"

Tuckle sucked at a paw grouchily. "Mebbe dun wanna tell you now. Mebbe Muvver Sessis maded me forget."

"Oooh, now you are fibbing, you little villain! You tell Father Medrugg what Martin said to you, or it's no dinner and two baths tonight!"

Horrifed, the squirrelbabe dropped his paw and hastily recited,

Medrugg twitched his whiskers "You're sure this is what Martin told you, Tuckle?"

"Yessur, farvur h'abbit. Marden said'a me, Tucko, you memmer dis poem, for verra long time. S'portant!" He nodded fervently. "And he said a memmer door too."

"Door? What door?"

"Dunno."

Seras had heard enough. She reached for the squirrel and lifted him up into the crook of her arm. "Now you listen to me, you little villain. When Martin speaks to anybeast, it is a great and serious thing. We do not keep Martin's words a secret unless Martin tells us to. Did Martin tell you to keep the door a secret?"

"No, Muvver Sessis."

"Will you tell us what the door is?"

"No, Muvver Sessis."

"Seras, let me try." Medrugg reached up for the tiny Dibbun. Seras was a good and caring beast, but she had been raised in the badger mountain of Salamandastron where her son now ruled. She had been welcomed with open arms to the Abbey, but she was a fighting beast by nature and while she loved the Dibbuns dearly, and they reciprocated her feelings, she did not always know how to deal with them. She set her jaw, but handed the little babe down to the Abbot. "Now, Tuckle, why can you not tell us what the door is?"

Tuckle smiled brightly; this was the question he'd needed. "Cuz I dunno. Marden said, no' now, Tucko, memmer a lookey door, an I gibbey--" here the squirrbabe broke into a garble of babytalk, but at such speed and determination that everybeast present decided he must have indeed taken Martin's words to heart, he was simply too young to repeat them properly.