Lucky

by Chris Hill

  “To a quiet and secluded drey I know. First Daughter wants you both out of the way. Nimlet needs to recover and the gossip needs to die down. You’ve caused her enough trouble as it is.”

  Lucky and Nimlet followed Mazie unhappily out into the trees. They saw groups of squirrels on other branches who all scurried quickly away as they approached. Lucky spotted the witty squirrel with some other cadets and signaled a greeting, but the males turned their backs. No one wanted to talk to them.

  Lucky was puzzled. “Why are they all avoiding us?”

  Mazie sighed. “They don’t understand what happened at the Trial, but they know you didn’t act like Cloudfoots. They don’t want you in the Clan.”

  “But that’s not fair,” said Lucky. “I know I’m not a Cloudfoot—but Nimlet is!”

  “I don’t want to be a Cloudfoot,” declared Nimlet, “if it means following orders you know aren’t right!”

  Lucky was horrified. “Nim, I don’t even look like a Cloudfoot. How was I ever going to fit in? But you—you’re a wrestling champion! You can easily do the Final Run—join the Patrol Leader’s—”

  “Forget that!” interrupted Nimlet. “I’ve tried ‘fitting in’ and I’m not joining the Patrol Leader’s troop without you. We’re in this together.”

  Lucky shut up.

  They traveled a long way south, down a strangely deserted Avenue. The chestnuts had given way to beech and oak. Finally they came to a gaunt old ash tree where a sagging and poorly made drey hung in the branches. Inside, Nimlet looked around in disgust at the carpet of moldy leaves and the leaking roof.

  “Who lives in a dump like this?” he asked.

  “My family,” said Mazie shortly. “Stay here, I’m going out to forage.”

  “I didn’t know!” said Nimlet, as she left the drey in a huff. “I didn’t mean to make her cross.”

  “It doesn’t take much, Nim. Maybe if we cleaned it up a bit?”

  When Mazie got back with the food, the drey had been swept clean and the males had, rather clumsily, rewoven the worst holes in the walls. They shared the food in silence. Was she ever going to talk to them again?

  Mazie finished her grooming and decided she’d punished them enough. “So, cadets, tell me about this Final Run.”

  “Don’t you know?” asked Nimlet, surprised.

  “Strangely enough, Mr. Nimlet, we females concentrate on learning the Knowledge. I know you have to do a run—but I don’t know what it entails.”

  At least she still wants to talk to me, thought Nimlet, and he started to explain. “It starts at dawn, down by the Good Shepherd.”

  “Near the gates at the south end of the Avenue?”

  “Yes,” said Nimlet. “And ends at the Albion.”

  “The Good Shepherd to the Albion,” said Mazie, frowning. “That’s the whole Avenue!” How would Lucky manage that?

  “Oh, the run’s not a problem,” said Nimlet. “The problem’s the Watch and Patrol out to hunt us.”

  “What?!”

  “There’re six Watch Squirrels stationed along the run, and random Patrols. You have to either sneak past them or outrun them.”

  Tooth and claw! thought Mazie. Outrun them? Lucky can’t outrun anything!

  “If they catch you,” continued Nimlet, “you can wrestle—you just have to get past them all and reach the Albion by sunset.”

  “I see,” said Mazie, frantically calculating the run-time. It was close to true No-Growth, the nights long and the days short. How could they possibly do this together? “I have an idea,” she said. “Nimlet, you can out-wrestle any squirrel. If you’re spotted, you could take care of the Watch and Patrol, while Lucky sneaks past.”

  “That’s a good plan!” said Nimlet.

  “No, it’s not,” said Lucky hotly. “I’m not having you do my fighting for me! What sort of a scrub d’you take me for?”

  “Lucky, don’t be angry—we’re only trying to help,” said Mazie.

  Lucky opened his mouth to say more, but seeing the look on his friends’ faces, he stopped. “Oh, feed-me-to-foxes, I’m sorry. I know you’re trying to help. Don’t worry; we’ll think of something, I know we will.”

  I can’t think of another plan, thought Mazie, but I can help them practice.

  The next morning they set to work. Mazie came up with a training program, and she began by taking the role of the Watch while the two males tried to sneak past her. At first she spotted them easily and insisted they try again and again; she was very strict.

  “She’s worse than Ratter!” complained Nimlet.

  But slowly they got better. Nimlet still missed his aim sometimes, and crashed clumsily through the trees, so Lucky suggested he learned to dive off the branches on purpose—it got you down a tree in record speed and was a great way to escape the Patrol. The pair of squirrels spent many hours spiraling up to the Canopy, then dive-bombing through the branches and swinging to safety at the very last minute.

  Any other cadets seeing this would think they’d gone crazy. A missed paw-hold could mean a fatal fall, and constantly being up that high was just asking to get taken by a bird. Most of the cadets avoided the Canopy if they could and left the Ground-level to the foraging females—they stuck to the safe Mid-levels. This gave Lucky an idea, and he began to formulate a plan.

  When he told Mazie, she was impressed by the daring and logic. It was a very well-thought-out plan for a male. But she didn’t like it much, and Nimlet was dead against the idea.

  “It’s insane, Lucky. We can’t run down the whole of the Avenue on top of the Canopy! Going that high, even for the short time we do, is dangerous enough!”

  “But there’ll be no Watch and Patrol up there,” argued Lucky. “No one’s going to spot us so high up, Nim. We’ll have a clear run.”

  “No one? No one but the odd hungry crow or ravenous raven! Why d’you think the Canopy’s a squirrel-free zone?”

  “Yes, it’s a squirrel-free zone, that’s why it’s so perfect. Look, here’s an idea. What if we start off in the Canopy and go as far as we can? Then if we spot anything that might be dangerous—”

  “Well, that’s everything up there,” muttered Nimlet.

  “Anything that might be dangerous,” continued Lucky, ignoring him, “then we’ll drop down to the Mid-levels. We could even drop farther!”

  “Oh, that’s a great idea,” said Nimlet sarcastically. “Let’s do the rest of the Run at Ground-level. So if the birds don’t get us, the foxes will!”

  “No one’s going to get us.” Lucky patted his friend cheerfully on the back. “I’ll look out for you—and you can flatten anything that gets in our way. It’s a perfect plan!”

  It’s a crazy plan, thought Nimlet, but it might work. No squirrel in the Watch and Patrol would think of taking the route, so it would be a clear run.

  A clear and dangerous run.

  Tarragon was very worried that her uncle wasn’t going to forgive her. He’d ordered her to stay in the drey and she’d been cooped up for days and days. It was so … dreary!

  She was bored silly and missed her old companion. Juniper, the new one, was no fun at all; she didn’t even know any jokes or games! They even had to do lessons. Stupid stuff like history, which was all about old battles. Useless!

  But she didn’t dare complain to her uncle, because he’d been terribly angry when he’d found her with the fox. She often remembered the fox. The little vixen cub had been so pretty—she had the best tail Tarragon had ever seen. I wish I had a tail like that, she thought. And I’m sure we could have been friends—she wasn’t really hunting me. I think Mr. Finlay’s there to protect me too—like my uncle.

  Tarragon’s uncle had been very busy. The Cloudfoot raid with his Coppice allies had gone well. His troops had tasted blood. Fleet and Coppice squirrels had feasted on Cloudfoot food. News of the success had spread through the Northend. Several other Families had shown interest in joining his alliance.

  What he needed now was something to stir t
hem all into action, something they could all unite over. Something … or someone.

  After what seemed like endless dull days, to Tarragon’s immense relief, the Major finally came to call.

  “Ooh-ooh, Uncle, I’m so pleased to see you—you haven’t come for ages!”

  “Important Family affairs have kept me very busy,” said the Major, smiling. “So, how are you today, my dear?”

  “Uncle, I’m so bored stuck in this stuffy drey.”

  “Well, my dear, you shouldn’t have disobeyed me because—”

  “You know best!” interrupted Tarragon brightly.

  “Yes, I do. So have you learned your lesson? Will you obey me now?”

  Tarragon nodded. “I promise, Uncle, I promise to obey you at all times.” She gave him her best wide-eyed smile. “So can I go out now?”

  Major Fleet patted her on the head. “You’d like a little outing?”

  “Ooh-ooh, yes, please!”

  “Very well. Ready yourself, and I shall go and have words with Juniper.”

  Tarragon couldn’t wait; it had been so long since she’d seen the trees. But when she poked her nose out of the drey her whiskers stiffened in shock. “Uncle, the trees are bare! Where have all the leaves gone?”

  “This is the time of No-Growth. The leaves will come back at Bud-time.”

  “Are you sure?” asked Tarragon doubtfully. “They don’t look like they’ll ever have leaves again.”

  The Major laughed. “Sometimes I forget how very young you are, niece.” But not, he thought, how foolish. “Come, I want to introduce you to my ally, Major Coppice. Then we will visit the Families Bracken and Glade.”

  “Ooh-ooh, goody!” Tarragon clapped her paws in delight. Visiting! She’d never done that before.

  The common squirrels waved and cheered loudly as the Honorable Mistress passed by. What a relief! They’d not seen her for many days, and it had been worrying.

  “Greet your Family, Tarragon,” said the Major. “You are well-loved in our trees.”

  “Yes, I am, aren’t I!” she said happily. “It’s so nice!”

  The Major gritted his teeth. This was going to be a long day.

  For Tarragon the day could have lasted forever, she was having so much fun. She met lots of new Families and they were all delighted to see her. It was wonderful. They had just finished visiting in the trees near the Albion when she spotted her companion rushing toward them. Tarragon’s heart sank. Oh no! She’s come to take me home. She’s going to spoil everything!

  “Stay here, my dear. I’ll go and see what she wants,” said the Major, and he scurried off to meet the female.

  Tarragon could see his face darken and his tail signal anger as Juniper chattered at him. They raced back toward her. “Tarragon, I want you to go with your companion immediately. Get out of the way quickly. Hide up in the Canopy. We are being attacked.”

  “What?”

  “There’s a Cloudfoot raiding party at the Albion gates, and I have to warn the Families. I should never have brought you down here.”

  Tarragon hesitated; she’d never been up high in the trees before.

  “Go—both of you. As high up as you can!” snapped the Major. “That’s an order!” And, turning tail, he sped off back through the Mid-levels.

  “Come on,” said Juniper, and she started to spiral up the tree.

  The trees near the Albion were the tallest in the Northend. They climbed and climbed, with Juniper showing no signs of stopping. The higher they went, the more frightened Tarragon began to feel. But I’ve promised to follow orders, she thought, and Honorable females aren’t frightened of anything! She ground her teeth in determination and climbed steadily higher.

  It became lighter as the branches began to thin out. She couldn’t see Juniper now, and the glare of the sunlight was blinding in the clear winter sky. Ooh-ooh, I don’t like this, she thought. It’s not nice.

  A vast expanse of blue glowered above and Tarragon had to stop. She sank her claws rigidly into the bark, feeling terribly sick and dizzy. Black spots floated before her eyes. She shook her head and blinked rapidly and her vision cleared—but Juniper was still nowhere to be seen.

  Tarragon forced herself to claw up to the end of the topmost branch and she desperately scanned the bare black branches of the Canopy. It’s no good—I can’t see her. Where has she gone? The treetops swayed dangerously in the air currents and she clung, terrified, to the rocking branch.

  Ooh-ooh, I feel sick, I’m going to be sick. I want to go home! The black spots were dancing before her eyes again. I’m going to faint! I’m going to faint and fall! She shook her head, desperate to see, but the spots still reeled. No! Tarragon’s eyes widened in raw fear.

  Tooth and whisker—not spots! It was one circling black-and-white shape, getting bigger and bigger … and bigger … Too late she let out a squeal of terror—cut horribly short as the shape swooped down. A cloak of rattling feathers engulfed her and the whole sky blacked out.

  Claws closed around her neck. Breathless, she plunged into a well of deep, terrifying darkness.

  Tarragon was lifted, unconscious, from the Canopy. She didn’t see Juniper watching from below, smiling. The massive magpie swooped away, carrying the lifeless form dangling from its claws.

  This has all worked out rather nicely, Juniper thought.

  “Miss Trimble, you achieved the highest grade for Strategy in your year, did you not?” inquired First Daughter.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “So what do you think? Do you really believe that Lucky’s plan will work?”

  Mazie hesitated. “It’s dangerous, ma’am, but I think it’s their only option.”

  First Daughter nodded. “Very well; send in the Trial Instructor and I shall play my part.”

  “Ma’am,” said Ratter, bobbing as he entered the drey. He hoped very much that she wasn’t going to make some unreasonable demand.

  “Old friend, I have a request.”

  Ratter sighed; he knew it would be a favor.

  “I know we don’t have much time. The Final Run commences at dawn and I have come to a decision.”

  Ratter brightened. Had she come to her senses at last? Was she going to withdraw Lucky from the Run?

  “I realize that I was wrong. I should have listened to your wise advice and withdrawn Lucky from the Wrestling Trial. He will, of course, fail the Run, and I am truly sorry that this will spoil your faultless reputation. But I cannot withdraw him now.”

  The Instructor tried to hide his look of disappointment.

  “However,” she continued briskly, “I have a plan you might approve of. I would like you to send Lucky and Nimlet out first. Alone. Give them a head start.”

  “But, ma’am—”

  “Let me finish. I know it is customary to start with the best cadets, but if you station a Patrol in all of the first ash trees, Lucky can be intercepted and eliminated immediately. He need not be seen in the Avenue again.”

  “I see,” said Ratter. He was very impressed—she was more ruthless than he had thought! “But what about Mr. Nimlet?”

  “I have no interest in my sister’s son,” First Daughter said coldly. “Though I suggest you station your best wrestlers along the Avenue, if you wish him to be eliminated too.”

  “Of course!” The old squirrel bobbed happily. “Indeed, ma’am, I shall do exactly as you request.” She will make a great Ma, when the time comes, he thought as he left the drey.

  There was no ceremony or crowd on Cloudfoot Avenue the morning of the Final Run. The Daughters stayed quietly in their dreys, along with the old males, keeping well out of the way. This was Watch and Patrol business.

  The cadets gathered at the Good Shepherd gates as dawn was breaking, and the Trial Instructor split them into running order. There was no comment or surprise shown when Lucky and Nimlet were named as the first to go—the cadets realized that Cloudfoot rules applied to them, but not to Lucky and Nimlet. They didn’t care. Lucky and Nimlet had
no friends that morning.

  The signal was given.

  Lucky turned to Nimlet and grasped his arm. “Good-speed?”

  Nimlet grinned and nodded in agreement. “Good-speed!” And they both bounded off into the Mid-levels, heading north up the Avenue.

  Ratter watched them go with a look of grim satisfaction on his face. The Watch and Patrol had been briefed to show no mercy.

  The two squirrels darted along the Mid-level branches until they were well out of sight of the Good Shepherd gates. Then they both began to claw up a tree trunk, rapidly and silently. The success of their plan depended upon no one seeing them going up into the Canopy.

  Nimlet climbed behind Lucky with grim concentration. If he was clumsy and noisy now it would ruin everything. Lucky reached the highest branches and scouted for incoming. He signaled the all-clear and they began to work their way along the Canopy.

  They soon reached the group of ash trees and Lucky pointed to the branches far below—there, as expected, was the Patrol waiting to catch them.

  Nimlet squinted. “I can’t see them,” he complained.

  “Shush!” whispered Lucky. “I can—but they won’t look up here as long as we’re quiet.”

  They crept along the branches, freezing at every creaking twig and spar. This is taking too long, thought Lucky, but he didn’t dare go any faster.

  They had just gotten to the last ash tree when two crows launched themselves out of the treetops ahead. “Incoming!” Lucky screamed before he could stop himself, and the squirrels leapt down to the branches below.

  “Psst!” An old gray head peeped from a nook in the tree trunk. “In here, lads—quick!”

  Lucky and Nimlet didn’t need to be told twice, and scurried into the old male’s home.

  “Stay here,” the squirrel ordered, and he went out onto his branch. The squirrels now saw him waving to the Patrol below. “Didn’t get me!” he shouted. “Don’t need assistance, you lads just carry on, eh?” He came back to the hidey-hole in the trunk, rubbing his paws together briskly. “That should do it. Don’t think they spotted you, so give them a minute and you can get on, eh?”