by Piers Torday
*The she-child cannot come with us.* Then, firmer, *No more humans.*
I look at Polly. She’s still just taking in the size of him.
*We can’t leave her here – who knows what they’ll do? And she won’t let us take her cat without her –*
*That is not the concern of my wild. We only asked for your help, and only need your help alone.*
*But she helped me. I can’t leave her here. They’ve taken her parents.*
Polly is watching us both with an uncertain look on her face.
*Wildness,* barks the General, who has somehow found his way on to my shoulder, *I am proud to report that the mission to protect the boy in the human nest was a complete success. Valiantly, I, the noble cockroach, covertly accompanied the deserter – concealed in his skin of cloth – before descending and seeing off a thousand enemies with a single bite of my jaws. Then, carefully equipping the search party with essential supplies of rotten apple—*
*Do you have a point, Cockroach?* asks the stag.
The General coughs. *Of course! I can indeed confirm that the she-child cares for the infected cat – which she treats as her property – and did assist us by supplying a cure for the boy’s fever. She too is separated from the rest of her pack.*
The stag’s soft ears tremble beneath his horns, and the wolf-cub turns his head up at him.
*No, Stag – you can’t! Another human – and a she-child at that! She will only slow us down with her long hair and strange blue feet.* He looks at me. *And besides, she does not have the voice.*
*I will take the cat, but not the she-child,* says the stag. *The cub is right.*
*If you don’t mind terribly,* says the cat feebly, *my full name is Oh Sidney I Could Hug You Forever And You Are My Best Friend, Aren’t You?*
*Yeah, well, you’re just a cat again now,* says Wolf-Cub, sniffing her all over.
*Silence!* thunders the stag.
The cub sulkily backs away, and the deer kneels to let Sidney step on to his back.
Then, behind us, there is the sound of wrenching metal. I turn to see the cab door busted wide open and, sticking out of it, Captain Skuldiss’s crutch waving in the air. Followed by Captain Skuldiss himself, balancing on the edge of the upturned van. He levels the crutch at us.
‘Oh, hello? Hell-o-o?’ he says. ‘Excuse me, please, childrens? So sorry for interruptings, but where do you think you are going with so many dangerous and diseased animals?’
I look up at the stag.
*Please, Stag. She helped me. She will help us. She can talk to other humans.*
Before he can reply, Polly unhooks her arm from around my shoulder and hops over to the stag on her good foot. Reaching his mammoth belly, she just hugs him tight, like they were old friends.
I look at her. She’s small and hobbling, but she pointed a gun in my face at least five times yesterday.
I think we need someone like that.
I can see the deer close his eyes and sigh, but he doesn’t shake her off. So Polly grabs a clump of his fur and hauls herself up on to his back, gathering Sidney into her lap.
*Very well,* the stag mutters quietly, *but only until we are all out of danger from these men.*
My heart does a loop of joy and I start running towards him, but Skuldiss’s voice sings out across the road as I do. ‘I warned you, childrens!’
And then it happens so quickly – there’s a crack –
I turn to see smoke curling from the crutch –
The stag is reeling back –
The tallest tip of his horns shot clean off into the middle of the road. It lies there like a large tooth.
‘That was your so very nice and polite warning shot, childrens,’ says Captain Skuldiss. He fumbles in the pockets of his coat, bringing out a fistful of bullets that he slots neatly into the crutch handle.
*I cannot defeat the magic from that stick,* says the stag. He’s just been shot, but his only reaction is to sniff curiously at the gun smoke coiling in the air. If it hurt, he doesn’t show. *Come quickly, now!*
I take a running jump on to his back. Polly leans forward and puts her arms around my waist, trapping Sidney firmly between us. As we spin round there’s another loud bang and I feel something fly past my ear. The shot is a kick-start for the stag, and he leaps higher than he’s ever done into the air and over the tangled hedge bordering the other side of the road, the wolf-cub yapping at his heels.
We come down with a thump in a grassy field, the stag kicking up lumps of earth as he gallops across.
My thoughts swirl like the clouds above us. I said I would help these animals. I promised to help them. Now they’re being shot at and chased by men with guns – and it’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have left them, I shouldn’t have agreed to bring Sidney and Polly – but it’s too late now.
The cullers are clambering over the hedge, Captain Skuldiss leading them. Even on his crutches he is faster than his men, as they stumble in the muddy hoof tracks we have torn up behind us.
‘Please, no waiting!’ He is shouting orders. ‘No waiting at any cost! The deer, the little dog-fox thing, the pussycat and the birdies, please, if you could and quick march about it – I am thanking you!’
Galloping through field after field, the stag jumps over untidy bushes and twisted wooden fences. Despite his size, the wolf-cub easily keeps up, not even out of breath. My knuckles are white with cold from holding on and I pull my scarf up over my face. I focus on the General scuttling back and forth over the stag’s horns, like the captain of a ship tossed about in a storm, barking commands –
*Faster, faster! I order you to go faster – you’re big enough!*
The cullers are still following us, but they are straggling, weighed down by guns and ropes, just black blobs with shiny helmets in the distance. But Captain Skuldiss is something else.
*Hurry, Stag, hurry – he’s catching up!*
*I am going as fast as I can.*
Without warning, he suddenly dives off into the strip of tall trees running alongside us, the wolf-cub nearly tripping us up in his rush to follow. But these woods are harder to go fast in. As soon as we are in among the trees the stag has to slow right down to avoid low branches and slippery ditches. Everything is silent apart from a faint roaring sound in the distance. He pauses for breath on the rim of a hollow filled deep with spiky pine cones, and we all look around at the dark wood we find ourselves in.
Polly reaches over to the tree next to us and pulls hard at the serrated bark. A chunk comes away easily in her hand, and I can see it is covered in globules of thick yellow wax, all stuck together like a melted candle. I glare at her – how many times do I need to make it clear that we are not on some nature trail?
But she doesn’t glare back, and instead simply snaps off the ball of wax, sniffs it and hands it to me. It doesn’t even smell natural. It smells more like paint than a tree.
Polly nods. ‘Pine resin. A special kind of pine resin. It might come in useful, you never know.’
Then a voice rings out behind us and seems to bounce off every branch. Polly hastily shoves the resin in her pocket.
‘Oh, childrens!’ The voice is out of breath but strong and unmistakable. ‘Oh, childrens! I don’t think you understand me.’
*Be brave, soldier, do not falter now – this is the hour!* whispers the General in my ear.
Behind us I hear the crunch of crutches on pine cones.
‘Childrens! I know you are playing your famous Hide and Seek.’
Polly and I hold our breath, as the stag steps gently forward. I’m amazed at how quietly he can go when he wants to, and the wolf-cub too, occasionally twisting his head to track the crutch noise.
We push through the branches, Polly rigid with fear. I squeeze her hand tight.
We are going to escape from Captain Skuldiss.
We are finding our way out of these woods, we are going through a clearing and now we are coming to a –
A river.
Miles wide,
foaming white over rocks, flowing out beyond the banks, too deep to cross, roaring and crashing inside all our heads.
A river that is our only way out.
‘OK, Kidnapper,’ says Polly, looking at the heavy brown water, rushing past. ‘Where next?’
Sniffing the air, the stag mutters to himself, *And then they came to the fish-road. Just as in the dream. Extraordinary.* Then he asks me a question. *Now, tell me what you are more afraid of, Kester.*
I don’t understand.
*Tell me what you can see.*
I can see mist floating across from the other side of the bank, over a fat stretch of fast-flowing water, which seems to flow faster the more I stare at it. A fish-road, the stag called it. Not that there will be any fish left in there now. And it’s torrential. Whole branches are being carried along in a swirl of leaves and seeds, bumping over the rocks that stick out just above the surface, like the world’s smallest mountain range.
*Now look again behind you,* says the stag quietly.
Twisting round, I can see Skuldiss hopping towards us through the pine trees, grinning, with one crutch pointed at me and the stag. Behind him, two cullers are bent over double, catching their breath. Captain Skuldiss is dead calm. ‘Childrens, please, enough of this nonsense, enough of this silly running competition.’ He gestures with the crutch. ‘Hand over the animals, please.’
*And what do you fear the most?* continues the stag, as if he hasn’t heard what Skuldiss just said.
I realize what he’s suggesting.
*But we’ll drown. I mean – the cat, the cub –*
*Ha! Don’t worry about me! I am the best swimmer in my pack!* says the cub.
Captain Skuldiss fires a shot into the air.
I might have just made the most stupid decision of my life, but there’s only one way to find out.
*Now!* I yell.
The stag rears up and springs off the bank into the river. Polly lets out a long, loud scream and Sidney shrieks for her life, both howled down by the wolf-cub behind us as he too leaps into the water.
For a second, it feels like we’re flying –
First the sky and the ground are in the wrong place, and then before we know it, we are diving down –
With a loud, flat slap – everything goes brown.
Pushing up, grabbing Sidney, I gasp as we break the surface again, heaving for air, the wet muzzle of the wolf-cub panting eagerly next to me as he paddles to stay afloat.
‘I can’t believe you did that!’ Polly screams, exploding up out of the water beside me. ‘You’re going to be in so much trouble! You can’t just do things without asking anyone!’
I can’t believe we did that either. The water is freezing.
It might be moving fast, but it’s the temperature of sheer ice. Every breath you take is like a shock, your body fighting to stay alive. I look around wildly. Sidney’s head bobs just above the surface, paddling like crazy, nudged clumsily along by the cub.
*That was fun!* he gasps between strokes. *I would very much like to do that again, wouldn’t you, Cat?*
*In that case –* gasps Sidney – *perhaps next time – someone could kindly do us the favour – of tying you up in a weighted sack first.*
The wolf-cub frowns and steams ahead.
I glance back at the pine wood, the bank we jumped off – as the current sweeps us further into the centre of the icy fish-road. Captain Skuldiss hops along the edge, trying to aim his crutch at us, but we’re moving too fast for him to get a clear shot, and before he can, we sweep on and round the bend.
Our teeth chattering, we feel the stag’s powerful kicks beneath us and try to stay clear of his hoofs. I stretch my hands out across the water to Polly. The cold must have gone right through her: she’s stopped talking, her lips completely blue. We link arms together over the back of the stag, like he’s a life raft, with us drifting against his sides.
It’s beginning to get dark.
I scoop Sidney out of the water and coil her round Polly’s neck like a wet towel. Her fur is soaking and you can see patches of skin underneath. The stag’s head is barely clear of the water, his powerful legs moving beneath us as he tries to push through to the other bank across the current – an invisible but rippling line of steel that forces us back into the centre of the fish-road whenever he tries to break free.
*Stay together,* he says. *Whatever happens, we must stay together.*
There is silence along the banks as we spin and bump past them, but in the distance we can just hear a roaring noise that gets louder with every bend we take. Polly begins to loosen her grip and slump down further into the water.
‘I think I might have a little sleep,’ she says, her voice sounding blurry and confused.
*You have to keep her awake!* orders the General. *That is an order. Wake up! Wake up!* he shouts, while surfing alternately between Polly and me, nipping at our frostbitten ears.
The wolf-cub swims up alongside us. *We will easily survive this,* he boasts, panting heavily. *I can do anything. I can run the fastest around the water at the Ring of Trees! I can play Catch-A-White-Butterfly better than any of the others in my pack. I can jump the highest off a rolling log, and I once pounced on to my father’s back and held on for longer than he said any wolf had ever done. He said I was the bravest, he said …*
He suddenly goes quiet. I know what he’s thinking about. The same thing as me. Dads.
Then as if she was too, as if there was something in the water, as if she’d been holding it in for ages, Polly suddenly blurts out, ‘I hope this is all worth it, Kidnapper, and that you can help these animals! Your dad had better not be just another horrible Facto man like Captain Skuldiss, or Selwyn Stone. Because if you really wanted to help animals, why would you work for a company that sends a man on crutches to kill them all?’
Never mind the cold, or not being able to speak – I’m too angry to think. All my dad’s ever done is help animals get better. It’s true that I don’t know if he has found a cure yet. I don’t even know if he still lives in our home any more.
A fear ripples down through me, colder than any water. Perhaps Polly was right to look strange when she learnt he worked for Facto. So much has changed that I don’t know about – perhaps he has –
She pulls at my hands, harder this time. The cat is coiled limply round her neck, like a heavy scarf.
‘Come on! You have to answer! You have to tell me why your dad will help. Why is he so different to the rest of them?’
Because he is. He’s always helped save animals. That’s what he does.
Suddenly I’m properly angry.
I didn’t ask Polly to come. She forced her way along. Everything was going fine till we met her and her stupid cat. We wouldn’t be here about to drown in this icy water if it wasn’t for her! I’m rescuing her cat and all she can do is ask me these stupid questions. Without thinking, I jerk my hands away from hers, to say SHUT UP AND GO AWAY!
And she does.
With a little cry that sounds more like one of Sidney’s mews, she falls back, her clothes balloon around her, the cat screeches and the current drags them away.
*Stag!* I yell, but it’s too late.
Before he can even twist round, Polly and Sidney have been sucked further and further on by the pull of the fish-road.
*I’ll go after them! I’ll save them!* shouts the wolf-cub, but the harder he tries, the more the current sends him spinning in circles too.
*Sidney!* I cry out –
But they’ve gone.
The stag can barely hide his frustration –
*The she-child wasn’t holding on tightly enough. We should never have brought her.*
This isn’t her fault. I’m the one who broke into her house. And then I hear – only just – a cry from Polly in the watery blackness up ahead.
*We have to help them, we have to get ashore now, we have to –*
And then the steep bank is close ahead, bobbing silhouettes of tall rushes, boulders
scattered everywhere –
*Now!* gasps the stag between short breaths. *Jump ashore! Go! I can’t climb out over these rocks –*
I stick out a hand and grab the nearest rocky crag, the other firmly round the cub’s neck. With a sickening lurch I’m jerked free of the stag, my legs trailing in the water. I yank the sopping wolf-cub out after me – he’s heavy and warm, his jaws snapping and legs wriggling – while the General scuttles along my arm and on to the rock.
*There – now that wasn’t so difficult after all, was it?* he says.
The stag sweeps on past us into the shadows. But I can’t look.
Biting my lip in concentration, I feel my way towards the shore, pulling the wolf-cub after me. His fur seems to have absorbed half the fish-road and it’s like trying to drag a sack of bricks. As I haul us on to the safety of the grass, he shakes himself dry, showering me with wolf-smelling water.
*Never help me again!* he snaps. *I don’t need your help.*
*Come on. Help me then. We have to save them!*
We run along the bank. Up ahead I can see the stag stumbling in the tall rushes, his horns silhouetted against the evening light.
Polly’s cries are getting further and further away. And in the distance, the faint roar grows louder.
*Quick! Follow the fish-road!* I yell.
The stag and wolf-cub bound along the bank, with me following as fast as I can. After several minutes of jumping over small ditches and streams, I stop, heaving for breath, as they skid to a halt ahead of me. The cub is staring out into the pitch black.
*Look,* he says.
*I can’t see anything!*
*You might not be able to hear them either. I can. I have the sharpest hearing in the world.*
The stag’s voice comes out of the darkness. *They are there – but they are moving fast. I can’t see them, but I can smell them. You must hurry.*
The roaring noise sounds very close now, a bubbling commotion, filling our heads, making it hard to hear, hard to even think clearly. We race after them until we run out of bank.
Because we are no longer just on the edge of a fishroad, but something much bigger. The black water has turned white, churning and foaming, like it’s boiling up, before dropping far, far away below, into nothing. The fish-road seems to stop mid-air like an unfinished liquid bridge, before tumbling down and down in a glowing curtain of mist.