The Woodlander

by Kirk Watson

  Ernie led the exhausted squirrels back to the dungeon. As he locked John in his cell, he whispered through the bars, “Sleep tight, sunshine.”

  John was too tired to retort. He lay back on the hard mattress and stared up at the ceiling, unable to sleep. As he rolled over, a slight movement in the corner of his cell caught his eye—a fly was caught in a spider’s web, buzzing its wings as it tried to break free. Seconds later, the web’s tiny owner emerged from its hole. For a brief moment, the fly and spider both froze, studying each other from across the gossamer web. The spider raised its two front legs in a salute, then slowly began to inch its way over.

  As the ensnared fly thrashed desperately, John could almost hear its silent scream.

  Chapter 13

  TALLY-HO!

  Running is a lot like falling, except with each step, you catch yourself.

  The next morning, Ray and Ernie escorted the captives out of the dungeon. As the procession passed by Hugh’s cell, the mouse stared at them through the barred window.

  “They’ll attack from the sun,” he whispered.

  “Thanks,” John whispered back.

  “Keep moving,” Ernie said, giving John a shove.

  They passed through another corridor, this one sloping upwards. At the end of the passageway, they could see the open sky. They stepped out of the tunnel and onto a broad ledge that jutted out from the side of the mountain.

  The haakönen waited for them at the edge of the platform. Neil stood before them next to a large woven basket. In front of him were three wooden boxes, numbered one to three in red.

  The king of the haakönen, Skallagaan, stepped forward to address the audience:

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, “I welcome you to the forty-seventh Winter Chase.”

  A smattering of applause arose from the other haakönen. Skallagaan held up a wing and turned to the squirrels, who stood nervously in their matching grey jumpsuits.

  “Distinguished guests,” he continued, “may your courage be strong, your wits sharp, your feet swift, and your luck plentiful.”

  “Hear, hear!” the haakönen cried.

  Skallagaan turned to his royal family. “Dear friends, may your vision be sharp, your wings strong, your winds favorable, and your prey tasty.”

  “Hear, hear!” the haakönen cried again.

  John muttered under his breath, “And may you choke on my fat, hairy tail.”

  Skallagaan frowned and glanced over at Ray, giving him a subtle look. Ray walked over to John and delivered a punch to his stomach, dropping him to his knees. As Ray helped him back to his feet, John felt him slip something into his jumpsuit—something rather heavy.

  “Compass,” Ray whispered in his ear, before returning to his post.

  John looked around to see if anyone else had noticed the exchange, but the haakönen appeared oblivious. He crossed his arms over his chest, feeling the weighty object in his jumpsuit.

  Compass? Whatever he just gave me sure doesn’t feel like a compass.

  Neil stepped forward. With great flair, he withdrew his notebook from his pocket and flipped through its pages. Finding his spot, he looked up at the haakönen. “As you know, my lords, yesterday I had the privilege of evaluating our recruits. It is now my honor to present to you the results. In first place, with a combined value of three points: number seven, Billy Harwood.”

  The haakönen applauded politely.

  “You may select a single item from box number one to take with you, Mr. Harwood,” Neil said. “Choose wisely.”

  Billy approached the indicated box and peered inside. After a moment, he reached in and withdrew a metallic cylinder. He carried it back to the other squirrels.

  “What is it?” Lisa whispered.

  Billy smiled as he tucked the cylinder into his jumpsuit. “It’s a flint-and-steel kit, for starting fires. My dad had one when I was a kid.”

  “In second place,” Neil announced, reading from his notebook, “also with a combined value of three points, is number eight, Lisa Galavant. You may also select one item from the first box, Miss Galavant.”

  Lisa peered into the box and rummaged around. She emerged holding a tin with a red plus sign on top. She returned to the group, brandishing it in front of her.

  “What’s that?” Billy whispered.

  “A first aid kit,” Lisa replied.

  Smart choice, John thought. We’ll probably need it.

  “In third place,” Neil said, “with a combined value of two points: number five, John Grey. You may select a single item from box number two, Mr. Grey.”

  John was disappointed not to be choosing from the first box. He approached the box adorned with a red numeral two and looked inside. It contained a tarp, a rope, and a compass.

  I suppose we could use the tarp as a makeshift tent, he thought, provided Violet or Rollie choose the rope. It will be cold out there, especially at night—survival should be our first priority. But Ray whispered, “compass.” Could it be a trick?

  He went with his instincts and selected the compass. Its dented brass case was well-worn, but its red-tipped needle pointed steadily towards the horizon.

  As John walked back to join the others, Rollie groaned at the selection. “A compass? What good is a compass when we don’t even know where we’re going? What do you think you’re going to find out there, city boy? A juice bar?”

  John shot him an annoyed look as he tucked the compass into his jumpsuit. “Just trust me.”

  “In fourth place,” Neil continued, “and also worth two points: number twelve, Violet Galavant. Miss Galavant, you may also select one item from box number two.”

  Violet walked to the second box and peered inside. She looked back at the others, unsure of which item to take. John nodded at the little squirrel, urging her on. She settled on the tarp and carried it back to the group, struggling to keep the large bundle folded in her arms.

  “Good choice,” John whispered.

  Violet smiled back. “Thank you.”

  “And in last pace, with a combined value of one point—”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Rollie said. “Just tell me which box.”

  “Box number three, number thirteen,” Neil said. The haakönen snickered amongst themselves.

  Rollie grunted as he approached the box with the red numeral three on its side. He peered inside and scratched his head. “Well, this is a difficult choice. A rock or a spoon. I have to say, that’s a fine-looking rock. Limestone, if I’m not mistaken. Very smooth. Never know when that might come in handy. But that’s also a pretty sweet spoon. What is that, pewter? Very elegant. Decisions, decisions…”

  “Please make your selection, number thirteen,” Neil said.

  Rollie frowned at the possum. “Hey, don’t rush me, coach. This isn’t a timed event. This decision could mean the difference between life and death, remember?”

  Neil narrowed his eyes at the heavyset squirrel, thumping the wooden rod into the palm of his paw.

  “All right, I’m going already. Sheesh.” Rollie pulled the spoon from the box and brandished it over his head like a sword. “Behold the lucky spoon!” The other squirrels cheered as he carried the dull utensil back to the group.

  “Silence!” Ernie said, pointing his knife at the squirrels. Rollie gulped and tucked the spoon away in his pocket.

  “Thank you, Neil,” Skallagaan said. The possum bowed and stepped aside.

  “Ernie, if you would please escort our guests,” Magdeleija said.

  “Everyone in the basket,” the ermine said, pointing to a small hatch in its side.

  The captives climbed into the basket. The wicker walls stretched high above their heads, making it impossible for them to see out. Lisa held Violet close, rocking her gently.

  “I told you ladies you should have been nicer to me,” Ernie snickered through the hatch. “Next time, maybe you’ll listen to me. That is, if there is a next time.” He closed the hatch, sealing the squirrels inside.

  “A
lvíss, I believe it’s your turn to do the honors,” Skallagaan said.

  “Quite right. Watch this, Geirleif!”

  John caught a glimpse of the blue haakönen soaring overhead before he disappeared from view. Moments later, he dived back down with tremendous speed, pulling up at the last second to snag the basket’s handle in his talons. The basket lurched from the platform, sending the captives sprawling against its back wall. John could hear the other haakönen cheering below.

  “Ah, still got it!” Alvíss said as he pulled away from the mountain. “Now, you folks just sit tight down there. It could be a bumpy ride.”

  Rollie panicked and attempted to scale the basket’s walls. “Let me out of here!”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Alvíss said. “It’s a nasty fall from up here.”

  He banked hard, allowing the captives to see the ground through the top of the basket. John had never seen the world from so high—everything below seemed so small. Rollie collapsed to the floor, defeated. The cold mountain air rushed through the basket’s wicker walls, and soon the squirrels were shivering.

  “Violet, let’s see that tarp,” John said.

  She handed him the tarp, and he spread it out over them; it was just large enough to cover them all.

  “I told you it was an excellent choice,” John said. Violet beamed proudly.

  “Hey, you up there!” Rollie called out. “Where are you taking us?”

  “Oh, not far,” Alvíss replied, flapping his wings. “You’ll see. But hush up, now. I’m not supposed to talk to you.”

  Oh, really? John thought. “No, I suppose you shouldn’t,” he said, “seeing how the other haakönen don’t trust you.”

  Alvíss looked down at him quizzically. “Don’t trust me? Now, why would you say that?”

  “Oh, they don’t mean anything by it, I’m sure. They just think they’re better than you, that’s all.”

  “Better than me?”

  “You know, at hunting.”

  Alvíss scowled. “They most certainly are not! I’m as good a hunter as any of them. I’ve just been having a bit of a dry spell.”

  “A dry spell?”

  “Well, I didn’t catch any mice on the last hunt. Or any moles on the hunt before. But that’s just because I play fair. I’m a true sportsman, you see?”

  “You’re saying the other haakönen don’t play fair?”

  “Well, not all of them. They use tricks. A real hunter doesn’t need tricks.”

  Lisa nodded at John, encouraging him to continue.

  “Did you say ‘tricks’?” John asked.

  “That’s right. Tricks. No offense, but you rodents are about as sharp as eggs, not hard to fool at all. And some haakönen don’t have a hunter’s patience like myself. So, they have to trick you into being captured.”

  “Well, that’s doesn’t sound very sporting at all.”

  “That’s what I said! But they just laughed at me. All’s fair and all that hooey. But no tricks for me; I don’t need them. No, sir, these two eyes are all I need.”

  “And your talons, I suppose.”

  “Right, and my talons. My two eyes and my talons—that’s all I need.”

  “What about your beak?” Lisa offered.

  “Yes, I guess I need my beak, too. But that’s it. My two eyes, my talons, and my beak—that’s all I need.”

  “And don’t forget your wings,” Violet added, trying not to giggle.

  “Hoo-hoo! Oh, yes. How could I forget my wings? I wouldn’t get very far without those, now, would I? But nothing more. Just my two eyes, my talons, my beak, and my wings—that’s all I need. But no tricks!”

  Lisa stifled a laugh and urged John to continue.

  “And how do the other haakönen play these tricks?” John asked.

  “The same way you trick anyone, I suppose. You offer something they want, then wait for them to take it.”

  “Like bait?”

  “That’s right. But what kind of haakönen needs bait? We’re hunting, not fishing, for crying out loud! But it’s not against the rules.”

  “Rules? There are rules?”

  “Oh, sure. Every game has rules, and there are plenty of them. For us haakönen, anyway. I suppose you groundlings don’t need any rules—except don’t get caught! Hoo-hoo!”

  “Ha-ha, quite right,” John said, suppressing a curse. “But what kind of rules would you need for a hunt? It seems simple enough.”

  “You’d think so. But we haakönen have been doing this for a long time, you see? And there have been… incidents—disputes, if you will. So we’re always coming up with new rules to make sure those sorts of things don’t happen again.”

  “What sorts of things?”

  “Well, like this one time we were hunting, and I spotted a mouse in the field below. I began circling him overhead—boy, the little guy had no idea I was right above him! I was just waiting for the perfect moment when, bam! In swooped Geirleif and stole my kill!”

  “That bastard.”

  “I know, right? Anyway, there was a big brouhaha over it, and ever since, we’ve had a rule that haakönen must hunt alone. No teaming up, you see? And no encroaching on another haakönen’s prey. That way there’s no dispute over the score. You either get ‘em or you don’t.”

  “You keep score?”

  “Oh, heavens yes! How else would you know who won? How would the wagers be paid? The rule is ‘no proof, no points.’ And it’s double points if you bring your prey back home alive.”

  “That’s smart,” John said. Bring them back alive so you can hunt them again next year, you fiends. “But I thought you were supposed to bring everyone back alive.”

  “It’s a risk versus reward thing. Take you, for example; Neil said you were worth two points. But that’s only if you’re dead. If I bring you back alive, then your value doubles to four points!”

  “What about me?” Rollie asked.

  Alvíss looked down at the plump squirrel. “Neil said you were only worth one point, but again, that’s if you’re dead.”

  “So I’m worth two points at best?”

  “That’s right. If you’re still alive.”

  “Balls. I don’t see why they’re worth any more than me. I’m the biggest catch here.”

  “Well, the more points you’re worth, the harder they figure it will be to catch you. Neil must think you’ll be the easiest to catch. Don’t take it personally; it’s all based on statistics. Neil has it down to a science. That possum is a mathematical genius, I tell you.”

  Rollie stood up. “You can take me back right now. Easiest two points you’ll ever make. I won’t give you no trouble.”

  “I wish I could,” Alvíss said, “My mother used to say a squirrel in the talon is worth two in the tree. But that’s not how the game is played. We’re not simply collecting rodents; we’re hunting! But if it makes you feel any better, you’re also the most likely to survive, statistically speaking. You’re hardly worth bringing in dead for a measly point, so I’m sure the other haakönen will make every effort to bring you in alive.”

  Lisa looked at Rollie with feigned sympathy. “Well, at least you’ve got that going for you, Rollie.”

  Rollie scowled. “Yeah, thanks a lot, Coach Neil, you hairless-tailed bastard…”

  “Then again,” Alvíss said, “not all haakönen play for points. Some just enjoy the thrill of the kill.”

  Rollie slumped back to the floor. “Balls…”

  “It sounds like you haakönen have put a lot of thought into this,” John said.

  “Oh, yes, we’ve got it all figured out. We used to rely on the honor system, but this one time, we had this pesky rabbit who totally disappeared on us. We looked for him for days but never did find the rascal. Then Geirleif claimed he caught the rabbit and ate him on the spot. Yeah, right. And I’m a sparrow’s sister! Since then, every kill must be verified, or it doesn’t count.”

  “So you never found the rabbit?” John asked. />
  “No, he probably got hurt, crawled in some hole, and died, I suppose. What a waste. Rabbits are quite tasty, you know?”

  “No, I can’t say I do.”

  “Hoo-hoo! Right. For a moment I forgot who I was talking to. That’s rich—a squirrel eating a rabbit! Hoo-hoo! But I shouldn’t be talking to you at all. Oh well, too late now; we’re here.”

  Alvíss descended and set the basket down on the ground, then opened the hatch. “This is where you squirrels get out.”

  The squirrels climbed out of the basket. They found themselves standing in a vast meadow. In one direction lay the mountains they had just come from, and in the other, a dense forest. A hint of early spring was in the air, and the meadow was surprisingly green.

  At least it’s not snowing, John thought. Our tracks would be so easy to follow in snow.

  “I wouldn’t dawdle if I were you,” Alvíss said. “The hunt begins at noon. See you squirrels soon!”

  He grasped the empty basket with his talons and flew back towards the mountains. John watched as the haakönen disappeared into the clouds.

  “Well, he sure was friendly,” Rollie said, looking up at the sky.

  The other squirrels scowled at him.

  Rollie smiled sheepishly. “Er, for a killer, I mean.”

  Lisa rolled her eyes. “Now what?”

  John remembered the mysterious package Ray had slipped him. He pulled the bundle out of his jumpsuit and held it in his paws.

  “What’s that?” Rollie asked as the squirrels gathered around him.

  “I don’t know,” John said, examining the package. It was as long as his forearm, quite heavy, and wrapped in cheesecloth. He set it on the ground and unwrapped it. Inside the cloth was a steel dagger. John picked it up; its broad blade glistened in the sun.

  Rollie whistled. “Where’d you get that?” he asked, reaching for it.

  “Careful,” John said, pulling the dagger away. “It’s quite sharp.” He held the blade in the air. “Ray gave it to me.”

  “Ray?” Lisa asked. “The same Ray that kidnapped us? The one who nearly knocked your head off?”