The War for the Lot

by Sterling Lanier

  Chapter Twelve

  THE BOY sat down where he was, on the wet, cold slope overlooking the pond. Unconsciously, his hand went out to the head of the big cat, still engaged in cleaning his wounds, and patted it gently. Worthless looked up, his yellow eyes glowing.

  "What do we do now?" came his voice. "This seems to be settled once and for all."

  "I don't know," said Alec. "I feel so tired I don't think I can stand up. It seems hard to believe it's all over."

  "Look at the pond shallows if you don't believe it," came another voice. Scratch appeared and sat up a few feet away looking at Alec calmly. The raccoon was covered with bleeding cuts and pieces of fur seemed to have been pulled out of his bedraggled ringtail in clumps. Nevertheless, he seemed pleased with himself.

  The boy peered at the water's edge and saw brown shapes, motionless as floating leaves. But they were not leaves.

  A branch overhead shook suddenly as a weight, or rather two weights, descended on it. Water fell on Alec's head and neck as he looked up.

  "Here we are, wet but content," said Soft Wing cheerfully. "Look who I brought with me! We had to go hide in a thick spruce when the rain started, but we had fun before that, didn't we, cousin?"

  Next to him sat Death Grip, and looking for the first time at the great horned owl, Alec could see why the forest animals were terrified of him. Even with sodden feathers, he was twice Soft Wing's size, with huge, pointed feather ears and great, unblinking, golden eyes. These were now fixed on the boy.

  "So this is the one who thought up the whole idea? Hardly more than an owlet, too! Well done, Watcher. A good plan and good sport, the best I have ever had, and I was hatched many seasons ago."

  His mind voice was velvety like Soft Wing's but even deeper and with a note of menace running through it.

  Alec roused himself and tried to thank the two big birds. They really had done invaluable work, and he now told them so.

  "No thanks needed," said the horned owl. "There was a command, wasn't there? All did what they could, not so? Now it is over, and we can go back to our own lives again. Come, cousin, I want to fly and dry my feathers. Farewell, Watcher."

  Soundlessly, the two lifted from the branch and flew off across the pond. As they entered the darkness of the far woods, Alec heard one long "who-who-o-o-o!"

  Looking down again, the boy saw that Scratch had been joined by the black-and-white shape of Stamper. With a slither and a flop, the shining wet form of Slider, the big otter, came up the bank and plumped down beside the two. All three stared up at Alec, as if waiting for more orders.

  "You all did very well," he said slowly. It seemed such an effort to get his thoughts organized!

  "Slider," he said to the big dog otter, "You were marvelous. It looks like not a single rat got away. But the pond is a mess."

  "Leave that to us," said Slider. "Us and the muskrats. We'll stuff 'em all into the marsh over at the far end. There's a patch of quick-mud there you could shove a young mountain into. Look out on the pond. They've started already."

  Alec could see dim activity in the weed-grown shallows. Rat bodies, sometimes two at a time, were being towed away up the pond in a steady stream. The cleaning-up process was regular and orderly, otters and muskrats pulling and hauling the floating brown rats out of the reeds and moving them off to the north end of the water.

  "Then I guess that's the end of it," the boy said. "I suppose I'd better get back before I'm missed. I've got to get these cuts fixed up, too." He slowly stood up, feeling stiff and sore all over.

  The animals looked at each other, each one reluctant to speak. Old Stuffer now came waddling up.

  "All done and not a one left," he said. "Now we can all go back to the Council Glade and settle this business once and for all." The old woodchuck's normally slow speech was almost lively for once, and although he had as many wounds as any other animal, he actually looked chipper.

  "What do you mean?" said the boy. "I thought everything was already settled. What else is left?

  "The glade, the clearing in the woods where you talked to whoever you talked to," Stamper explained. "We all have to go there now. Don't you want to? We do."

  "I don't know what you mean," said Alec. His senses were so dull by now that he scarcely knew what was happening. "I just want to go home and to bed. Why do we have to go somewhere?"

  "Well, we do have to," said Scratch. The raccoon paused and then went on. "We just know we have to, that's all. I think you should come, too."

  "I don't want to go," said Worthless, sitting up, his fur erect and bristling.

  "We can't make you go," came from Slider. The big otter came closer to Alec and looked up at him almost imploringly.

  "Watcher, we just know we have to go to the Council Glade right now. Everybody. Even the muskrats are coming and my people. And everyone thinks you should come, too. It won't take long. Everyone who fought the rats should go. We know this. Won't you come and bring the cat?''

  Alec stood leaning on his trusty spade, his head bowed from utter weariness. The light of the approaching dawn shone in his eyes and a gentle breeze, coming from the forest across the water, chilled through his wet clothes.

  "Watcher, you should come," came Whisperfoot's dainty voice in his mind. "I wouldn't ask if it weren't important."

  "All right," said Alec. "I don't know why, but if you all say so, I'll come. So will Worthless. Come on, old cat. If I'm going, you have to."

  "I don't like this at all," grumbled Worthless. "I can feel something coming from there I don't like, something strange. It makes me nervous to think about it."

  Now that Alec had made up his mind, he wanted no argument. "I said we're going. Now come on, before we're too stiff to even move at all."

  He started off slowly around the edge of the pond and Worthless, still muttering to himself, got up and limped along behind. After him came the others and as they moved, a steady procession of animals joined them.

  Otters emerged from the water, and squat muskrats left their task of towing to follow them. The foxes added themselves to the group, and the woodchucks and skunks trotted along. The clump of hissing, waddling opossums joined in, and Wandertail led his little band of woodrats proudly at one side.

  They soon saw the little clearing before them. Alec walked out into the middle of the glade. He no longer had that strange compulsion to do something, but he did feel the old sense of calm and restfulness. Without even consciously thinking, he walked to the circle of flat stones and sat down in its center on the damp, cropped turf. Worthless followed and despite his earlier fears and his dislike of wet grass, lay down next to Alec.

  Hardly making a sound, all of the woods people came into the clearing and made a circle around the boy, but remaining outside the stones. Scratch, Staffer, Stamper, Slider, and Wandertail arranged themselves in a row before him. He felt the wave of affection from their minds touch his.

  "Good-bye, Watcher," came Whisperfoot's voice from his shoulder. He watched, detached, almost without thought, as the deermouse ran down his arm and pattered over to join the five in front of him.

  "Good-bye, Watcher!" the other animals said. And there came another Voice, too: Good-bye.

  A deep sense of contentment filled Alec's mind, and suddenly his wounds ceased to hurt.

  Epilogue

  ALEC BLINKED down at Worthless. He was sitting in the clearing and the dawn sunlight was shining on the close-clipped grass.

  "I must have dozed a bit," he thought. A muffled purr from next to his knee told him that Worthless also was asleep. He stared down at the big cat, noting that his fur was both bedraggled and torn. "You've been fighting, cat," he said aloud. "I wonder where?"

  It seemed to be getting brighter fast, the morning light pouring down through the trees. Alec scratched his head and then poked Worthless, who woke up and meowed indignantly.

  "We must have really stayed out late, Worthless," said the boy. "Let's get home fast!"

  He stood up and felt t
he memory of pain in his legs as he did so. His mind tried desperately to summon up a recollection. Rats, was it ... or was it raccoons? He almost had it for a second.

  But He whose gate lay still under the glow of dawn was yet the master. A mighty will, gentle but inexorable, beat down the boy's defenses, smoothing his memory, wiping it clean of all save a desire to be gone. The strange thoughts vanished.

  "Come on, cat," he said. "It must be around five-thirty. If we hurry, we can get back before Lou finds I've been out all night. Let's go."

  Stealing in through the library and racing silently up the stair, Alec was in his room with the door shut only minutes before Lou and John passed by on their way to the kitchen. The narrowness of the escape drove the last vestige of his adventures from his mind.

  As he undressed and lay down on his bed, he heard the call of a mourning dove, echoing from the distant recesses of the wood. For just an instant, he felt as if the bird's soft call were saying, "Well done." Then sleep came and his return to his own life was complete. The strife was ended, the war was truly won, and the magic of the forest was gone as if it had never been.

  Again the distant bird called and the trees and their branches, sighing in a soft breeze, spoke gently together under the morning sun.

  The End