Sometimes, a fable can sneak into our heads in a way that cold, hard reality doesnt. That’s why I like writing stories like this.
Jeremy was not a bad squirrel, at least not in the sense that he deliberately tried to harm anyone. But he was selfish, looking out for himself whenever he had the chance. He lived in a nest made of oak leaves high above the place called Five Oaks, where the ancient oak trees grow so tightly together that a cool darkness sat on the forest floor all day.