The trees in the Wild Wood looked twisted.
Mole followed a trail between the trees.
The branches were leafless.
Logs tripped him.
Twigs cracked under his feet.
"It's very gloomy and dark," said Mole.
From holes in trees, evil faces peeked out.
Everywhere he looked, they stared!
"I must get off this path," said Mole.
Mole stepped off the trail, deep into the woods.
He heard a faint whistling.
"I should turn around," he said.
"There's something up ahead."
Then the whistling was behind him.
"I don't think I'll turn around now," he said.
Mole stood there, cold and afraid.
"I'm so alone," cried Mole.
Something made a pitter-patter sound.
"It sounds like falling leaves," Mole said.
"No, it sounds like little feet.
Are they in front or behind?"
The little feet were all around.
The footsteps grew louder—closer!
Suddenly a rabbit came running by.
He almost knocked Mole down.
The rabbit didn't look back.
He called back,
"Get out of here, you fool! Get out!"
"Oh no!" cried Mole. "Oh no!"
With his heart pounding, Mole ran.
He tripped over roots.
He slipped on leaves.
Eventually he bumped into a hollow tree.
Mole was too tired to run anymore.
He crawled inside the hollow tree and hid.