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Long ago, there was a little badger who was determined. Determined to learn how to swim. She had seen the various fish swimming about in water, and several times, wondered about the silky way their tails would flick and their direction could change, and how idly they swum- did they ever stop?

But there was one problem. The little badger’s family didn’t like her near water. They were too busy digging tunnels underground and never really thought much about swimming- they had a shallow puddle underneath, and they could splash about there!

Despite this, the little badger was determined. She didn’t like staying underground. She thrived on the beauty of sunshine and kept wriggling free to see the surface world while the other badgers hissed at her and told her to stop letting sunshine into the burrow because their beady eyes couldn’t take the sun.

How she hated tunneling, the musty work involving dust and dirt on her pretty little velvety paws- she wouldn’t stand for it, and the surface world was so much purer with the grass!

At last, when she was 5 months, she raced out of the tunnels and headed for the water, curling her little body into a ball and finally jumping into the water- but what?

Like all other things on the water she had seen before, she expected to float, or at least stop sinking. She knew she couldn’t breathe underwater- but she thought it would be easier to resurface! She looked up at the light pooling on the water, and trashed her velvet paws in an attempt to try to resurface, but the action seemed to pull her deeper.

The little badger wanted to shout and panic, but she couldn’t do anything, she should have listened to her parents! She should have continued tunneling, no matter how boring it was! She should have been a better badger, she was a bad badger! The bad badger closed her eyes in her worry, but all of a sudden…

Two strong paws gripped around her stomach and raised her, and when she felt the cool wind on her furry body, the bad badger looked up at her savior. A smiling otter looked down on her as he clutched her firmly in his otter paws.

“Not as spiny as a hedgehog, definitely darker than a rabbit, what’s a small badger like you doing in the water?” he asked, still holding her (the badger was honestly grateful, she guessed swimming wasn’t as easy as it looked).

“I’m a bad badger.” She mumbled, looking down sadly.

“Well, I can’t judge you now, can I?” the otter shrugged, floating over to the shallow end, where other otters waited.

“I should have stayed under the tunnels.” She continued sadly, limp in his paws.

“If you don’t feel like it’s meant for you, then don’t do it. That’s what us otters do, don’t we?” he asked, and at the mention of his kin, the other otters nodded in agreement.

“But I can’t swim! How can I do what I want?” the bad badger asked, looking at every one of the otters.

At the question, the otter loosened his grip on her and let her slip through his paws, and at the fear of losing her breath once more, the bad badger clung with desperation to the otter, her only lifeline.

“What are you doing?” she squeaked, voice spiked with fear.

“I’m going to teach you how to swim.” He assured her, once her paws touched the bottom, with her top half still peeking out of the water.

From then on, the otter taught the badger how to swim, how to mingle with the currents, how to love the water, and soon enough, the badger could swim as gracefully as an otter could, and soon enough, the badger guessed that she was not a bad badger. She just never knew where she belonged, but now? She was sure she belonged in the water, and even if she was a bad badger, she would make a magnificent otter.