Slow, Slow, Slow, All Together

A warm drop of rain landed on Otis's nose. Otis was a hedgehog, small and round, with prickles that clicked when he rolled. He stood at the edge of the slow green river with his nose up, sniffing. The whole jungle smelled of wet moss and ripe mango.

The mango was the problem. One ripe mango hung from a thin branch that leaned out over the water, and it swung back and forth, slow as a sleepy swing. Otis wanted it for his bedtime snack, to share. A mango leaf was stuck on his prickles from earlier, like a little hat. "I can't reach it," he said. "I can't swim. And I'm not very tall."

Amara was already there, up in the low branches. She was a young monkey with long arms and quick fingers, and she could tie a knot in anything: a vine, a grass blade, a curly stem. "Watch this," she said, and tied a loop in a vine just for fun.

Higher up, glow-worms were strung through the leaves like little lamps. And higher still sat Pim, a sloth with long slow arms. Pim had started saying hello at sunset. So far she had said, "Hhhhhhhh." She was still working on the rest. Pim was the oldest of them, and she kept one eye on Otis the whole time.

"I'll climb," said Otis. He put one paw on the trunk, then another, then another. He crawled out along the thin branch and the branch bounced. Boing. His prickles snagged on a curly vine. Boing, boing. Otis felt wobbly inside. "It's too bouncy up here," he said, and backed down to the moss.

"My turn," said Amara. She swung out on her long arms and reached with her quick fingers. But the branch dipped low, and the mango swung out over the water. "I need both hands for holding," she said, "and both hands for grabbing." She swung back to the bank with her tail curled tight.

Then Pim reached down. Her arm came out of the leaves slowly, down, down, down, like a warm slow vine of its own. Otis held his breath. Amara held her tail. Pim's paw opened, and the mango slipped out of her soft slow grip. Plop. It fell into the river and floated away like a little yellow boat.

Otis's nose drooped. "We tried three ways," he said, "and now it's swimming." Amara's tail went floppy. "Hhhhhhh," said Pim, gently, which meant she was sorry too.

Then Otis saw where the mango was going. It drifted toward a tangle of roots that would catch it and hold it. But the roots were far from the bank, and the water looked cold, and nobody wanted to wade in.

Otis sat up straight. "Wait," he said. "Amara ties knots. I can carry things on my prickles. And Pim is strong, and slow, and steady." Amara's ears went up. "We need all three of us," she said.

So Amara tied a wide loop in the long vine, quick as a blink. Otis curled up small, and she laid the vine over his prickles so it wouldn't tangle. He rolled down the muddy bank, slow and careful, with Pim walking right beside him, and stopped at the very edge of the water.

Pim took the other end in her long arms. "Slow, slow, slow," said Otis. "Slow, slow, slow," said Amara. Pim swung the loop out over the river, slow, slow, slow, and let it sink under the mango. Then she pulled. The vine came back dripping and shining, and in the loop, snug as an egg in a nest, sat the mango.

"We did it," whispered Otis. They shared it in three pieces on the moss. The mango was warm from the rain, and sweet, and it dripped down Amara's chin, and Otis licked his paws.

The glow-worms dimmed to a soft glow. The river went hush, hush, hush. And Pim, who had been saying hello since sunset, finally finished. "Hello, little Otis," she said.

Otis giggled and yawned at the same time. He curled up on the warm moss with his prickles soft, and Amara's tail curled around him like a blanket. Slow, slow, slow went the river. The leaves dripped. The jungle grew quiet and dim.