“What about that Companion den up there?” Pang said. “It’s not so ruined.”
Casseomae eyed the wooden building. It was covered in creeper and a fallen oak lay on a portion of the roof, but for the most part it was intact. “It’ll do.”
She picked the cub up at the shoulder, as she’d done the day she’d first rescued him. With a gentle grip of her teeth, she carried him toward the building. Pang ran ahead, sniffing for signs of danger as they went inside.
“Not there in the glass,” Dumpster squeaked. “Over here.” He directed her toward a back corner.
After she put the child down, Casseomae surveyed the den. Unlike her den back in the meadow, the floor was the smooth flat sort of wood that the Skinless fashioned. On the far end of the den where the oak had landed, the building was in ruins with weeds and saplings rising through the rotten floor. But on this side, it was dry and mostly well-preserved.
“It’s even got furniture,” Dumpster said, sniffing around with interest.
“What’s fern-of-chirp?” Pang asked.
“Furniture, you idiot. That stuff over there. It’s nesting the Old Devils used to keep their pups off the ground. They believed the earth was cursed and to touch it would defile you. That’s why they built their skyscraper dens so high.”
“How’s the pup?” Pang said, circling back to Casseomae.
She was trying to lick the sick from his clothing hide, but it had soaked into the material. “He seems to be sleeping,” she replied. She got the worst of it off, but he still smelled strongly.
As evening fell, they heard scurrying in the rafters above. An opossum poked its head curiously through a hole in the ceiling and Dumpster said, “What are you looking at?” He disappeared, but Casseomae knew the den must house any number of viand families like squirrels and birds and even some smaller voras like raccoons.
“You might not want to wander much, rat,” she cautioned.
“Eh,” Dumpster said dismissively, but he settled onto the arm of a couch close by.
Pang nervously watched the woods from the doorway. Casseomae was glad to have him standing guard. She continued to soothe the cub, slicking back the tuft of hair on his head with her long tongue.
A painful memory dredged itself up. Not many moons before, she had been licking a pair of tiny cubs she had given birth to over the winter. They had arrived breathless, like all the other cubs she’d borne. Sick with anger and desperation, she had licked the cubs all through the frosty night, hoping that somehow she could bring them to life.
“Don’t leave me, cub,” she whispered to the child as she drew her tongue over his thick ears. His skin was salty and hot. “You’re strong. You’re not like other cubs. And you’re stronger than the others of your kind. You survived when they haven’t. Please, just get better.”
His eyes didn’t open. But the child murmured and brushed a hand to her snout, weakly trying to push her away. “Good,” she said, feeling a stirring in her chest. “Sleep. Just sleep.”
Later an eruption of distant barks broke the quiet of the night. Pang leaped up from the doorway. “Do you hear that?” he barked. “Those are wolves.”
“How far away?” Dumpster asked.
“Not far enough,” Pang said.
Casseomae rose and stepped out into the night air. The barks grew rapid and ferocious. “What are they doing?” she called back to Pang.
“Those aren’t howls to mark territory.” He listened as the faint cries continued. “I think those are wolves fighting other wolves.”
“That’s a lot of wolves,” Dumpster said.
Casseomae went out to stand on her hind legs. She couldn’t smell them, which was good. They were still a fair distance away. But if those wolves came near, they would certainly be caught. She hurried back inside to find Pang tugging at the child. “What are you doing?”
Pang had torn a portion of the cub’s blue clothing away from his chest and was chewing at the portions around his waist. The child whimpered and curled up but didn’t open his eyes.
“He’s getting that reeking coat off of him!” Dumpster said.
“Stop,” Casseomae growled, butting the dog in the ribs.
Pang looked up with urgent eyes. “The smell. We’ll never get it cleaned off that strange hide. It’s not like fur and if we don’t get it out of here, they’ll smell the pup.”
“The cur’s right,” Dumpster said. “We’ve got to get rid of that.”
Casseomae lumbered to the child’s face and licked him soothingly while Pang continued to gnaw and tear away the rest of the clothing hide. Underneath the cub wore another smaller white covering around his midsection. Pang left it along with the thick coverings on the child’s feet since neither had gotten any vomit on them. Once the remains of the child’s clothing hide lay on the floor, Pang gathered it up in his teeth and carried it out the doorway.
“Leaving it out there won’t do any scratchin’ good,” Dumpster called.
Pang dropped it and barked, “I’m taking it to the river,” before trotting off with the reeking hide in his mouth.
Casseomae turned back to the child, curled up like a pink newborn, looking more vulnerable than ever. He shivered even though the night was warm. She lay against him, settling his whimpers with licks. Soon the cub relaxed into quiet sleep.
When Pang returned, he said, “It’s stopped.”
Casseomae lifted her head to listen. The noise of the fighting wolves had gone quiet.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Casseomae slept little that night. Her ears were attuned to every noise. Whenever Pang sat up in the doorway, she growled, “Are they here?”
“No,” he’d say before sniffing cautiously and then setting his chin back on his paws.
Eventually she did doze, and when the child began stirring in the morning, she woke to find him curled up against her stomach. She gave him a lick and the cub opened his eyes. He sat up with a start and then touched a hand to her fur.
If he was surprised that his clothing hide was gone, he didn’t show it. He stood and took a few wobbly steps over to Pang. The dog lapped at his hands with a grin. “He looks better.”
Casseomae agreed. “He does.”
Dumpster crawled out and twitched his whiskers at the child. “I can’t scratchin’ believe it. Thought for sure he was one for the crows.”
Casseomae’s fur tingled with happiness. She brushed up against the cub. He staggered but gave a weak grin before going to the door.
“Let’s hope he can travel soon,” Pang said as he followed him outside.
Dumpster and Pang searched the tall weeds around the house for insects, while Casseomae foraged for leaves and chokeberries. The cub didn’t eat, and she worried what he’d do without his drinking device until she found him sipping river water from his hands.
The strange coverings on the cub’s feet made the legs protruding from their tops look all the skinnier. Casseomae gave a snort as she watched him wading out into the river to splash water on his face and chest. “He looks like a frog,” she said.
“Palest frog I’ve ever seen.” Pang grinned.
Dumpster gave a squeak. “Look at this! What are these in his spew?”
Casseomae lumbered to where the rat was sniffing at the dried pile of sick in the grass.
“See those seeds?” Dumpster said.
Pang pulled his nose back. “Smells like centipedes.”
“Centipedes?” the rat squeaked. “The pup wasn’t eating spittin’ centipedes.”
But Casseomae caught the scent. The dog was right. There were certain large black and yellow centipedes she’d tried to eat that released a poison from their backs. The smell was unmistakably the same.
“Those seeds are from the cherries,” she grunted. “I ate them and they didn’t bother me.”
“You’re not an Old Devil,” Dumpster said.
Casseomae gave him a snort. “You think they’re what poisoned the cub? He wasn’t coming down with the si
ckness that wiped his kind out?”
“Hopefully,” the rat said.
Casseomae grunted and looked for the child. He’d found a portion of his clothing hide in the river and was dragging it up on shore.
“No,” Pang barked, running over to pull it away from him.
The child chirped irritably at the dog and held on to the blue hide. Something fell to the ground and the child quickly let go of the clothing to grab it.
“It’s the screen,” Casseomae said.
The child ran to huddle behind Casseomae to keep the dog from taking the screen.
“Let him have it,” she huffed.
The child huddled over the device, punching his fingers at it. The blue light they’d seen before didn’t illuminate and the child grumbled angrily at Pang.
“What’s he saying?” Pang asked.
“He’s your Companion,” Dumpster said. “If you plan on taking up with his kind again, you’d better learn his tongue.”
Pang wagged his tail and panted, trying to cheer the cub up. But the child simply shook water from the seam of the device, ignoring the dog. He put his arms around Casseomae’s neck and slumped onto her back. Casseomae gave Pang a warning look before lumbering off.
“What’s the matter with them?” Pang said to Dumpster. “I didn’t do anything.”
Dumpster flicked his whiskers. “She thinks the screen’s a piece of the sky. She thinks it was protecting the pup.”
“I didn’t know!” Pang said. “I was just trying to help the pup. Is it true? Was it protecting him?”
Dumpster scampered after Casseomae without answering. Pang tucked his tail between his legs and trotted after them. They followed the river, which Pang said flowed to the city, until midday. The child got down sluggishly, still weak from the sickness. But when Casseomae dug up some bulbs from the water’s edge to eat, he watched her with renewed interest.
“Try them,” she snorted to the cub.
“I’m not so sure,” Dumpster warned her. “You want to poison him again?”
“He’s got to eat,” Casseomae said. “You said yourself it was probably the cherry seeds that sickened him.”
“Yeah, probably is the important part of that proclamation.”
But Casseomae ignored his concern and managed to get the child to eat some of the bulbs after he washed off the mud. Their foraging was interrupted by a howl, followed by others. Casseomae rose on her hind legs, dancing back and forth to catch their scent.
“How far away are they?” Dumpster asked.
“I can’t tell.” She dropped back to all fours and the child scuttled up beside her, blinking nervously up and down the river’s edge.
“We’ve got to get out of Maul’s territory,” Pang said. “I think we should cross the river.”
“And only head into another pack’s territory,” Dumpster said.
“At least now that his coat is gone, he has hardly a scent to attract attention.”
“But he doesn’t have the screen protecting him,” the rat reminded him.
Casseomae faced Pang urgently. “Can we still reach the city if we cross?”
“Yes,” Pang said. He splashed into the river, paddling into the currents.
With the cub on her back and Dumpster atop her head, Casseomae waded out to swim after the dog. The cub inhaled sharply as the cool water surrounded him. Casseomae’s paws occasionally slapped against objects under the water, too smooth and flat to be rocks, and she guessed they were sunken debris from the Skinless Ones.
A howl reverberated off the water, and Casseomae paddled faster after Pang.
“Do you see them?” she asked.
“Not yet,” Dumpster said, clinging to her ears. “But don’t let that slow you down.”
Pang reached the other bank first, and when Casseomae was able to touch, the child let go of her and splashed up on shore with evident relief.
“Quick,” Casseomae said, butting him forward into the thick of the underbrush. Once they were in the shadows of the Forest, Casseomae went as close to the edge of the underbrush as she dared.
After a moment, a pair of wolves trotted down along the far shore, sniffing the ground. Then another wolf appeared and then several more. The breeze blowing off the river kept their scent from reaching her nose, and Casseomae had to hope their scent wasn’t strong enough to reach the other side of the river. The wolves searched up and down the bank.
“They can’t find where we went,” Dumpster said with a happy squeak.
“See that wolf in the back?” Pang said. “That’s Maul. I recognize him. And … what’s Gnash doing here?”
Casseomae spied the pair of massive wolves coming out from the trees. Gnash carried something in his mouth. “What’s that? He’s got the cub’s coat!”
“Scratch it all!” Dumpster said. “Idiot cur! Why did you leave it for them to find?”
“They don’t know what they’ve found,” Casseomae said. “They’ll never know that it belonged to—” Her words fell short as a large wolf came out from the shadows of the Forest. His coat was entirely black.
“Who is that?” Pang asked. “Have you seen that wolf before?”
As the enormous black wolf surveyed the river, more and more wolves came out along the banks. An army of wolves.
“Yes,” Casseomae said. “I’ve seen him before. That’s the Ogeema.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
They tore through the Forest, moving as far as they could from the river. Fear brewed in Casseomae’s belly.
“That explains the fighting we heard last night,” Pang panted beside her. “The Ogeema is even gathering packs that don’t pay tribute to him!”
“I’ve never heard of packs banding together,” Casseomae said incredulously.
Dumpster dug his claws into her head. “You still don’t understand, do you, Cass? That cub of yours, that Old Devil, he’s changed everything. By coming back, he’s upset the order of the Forest. He’s bringing about what’s never been imagined before.”
Casseomae felt the cub clinging tightly to her neck. “He’s not doing anything.”
“But he is,” Pang said. “Just by being here. If the Companions are returning—”
“They’re not returning,” Casseomae said. “We saw them! They were all dead.”
“There could be others,” the dog said. “You don’t know that there aren’t. They just might not have come yet.”
“And for the wolves,” Dumpster said, “they’re fighting to hold on to their rule over the Forest. I for one don’t think the Skinless are coming back, but it doesn’t really matter what I believe. The Ogeema has personally accompanied his wolves to hunt this cub down. He’ll gather even more packs. We don’t stand a chance of escaping now!”
Pang said, “They’ll figure out we crossed the river.”
“Then we’ve got to keep running,” Casseomae growled.
“We can’t outrun them,” Dumpster said.
Pang panted anxiously. “If I remember right, there’s a marsh nearby. It’s not the quickest route and who knows what’s out there. But the water will mask our trail.”
Dumpster flicked his tail against Casseomae’s ears. “As my old da used to say, ‘Stay in the puddles and the voras it muddles.’ ”
With heavy gray clouds hanging overhead, they soon reached the edge of the marsh. Splashing down into leaf-filled water and winding among the knobby roots and dense swatches of grass, they hurried as best they could as distant barks echoed through the Forest.
“Have they followed us?” the rat said later as he clung to the side of a cypress. Night was falling, and the howls had grown more faint but had not disappeared as they had hoped.
“Maybe.” Pang gave him a slight grin. “We just have to hope they’ve been ‘muddled.’ ”
Dumpster slipped from the cypress and splashed into the water. “I’m starting to think we were muddled to come this way,” he said, climbing back to dry land.
The cub slept uneasily besi
de Casseomae that night. He was woken constantly by clouds of mosquitoes descending on him, and his skin was covered in red welts by the morning. The child scratched angrily as they followed the muddy high grounds crisscrossing the marsh. When the reeds grew too thick, they slogged through pools of stagnant water, filled with ancient debris and sheets of black plastic that Dumpster called garbage bags.
Later in the morning, the cub’s frustrating battle with the mosquitoes got the better of him. Running down into a pool of dark water, he submerged himself except for his face.
“Poor cub,” Casseomae said from the bank.
“We can’t linger, Cass,” Pang said. “We haven’t heard the wolves, but we need to keep the cub moving.” He surveyed the sun. “This way.”
Casseomae splashed down into the pool to nudge the cub out. He growled and rose, dripping with muck. After a few paces the cub stopped to scoop mud and rub it over his skin. He grinned with relief at Casseomae before trotting after Pang.
Deeper in the marsh, they came upon a mountainous relic tilted in the shallow water. Dumpster said it was a tanker, an ancient boat used by the Old Devils to cross the Wide Waters. But why or how it had come into this marsh, he had no guess.
The child kept his skin coated in mud, washing it off and adding more as it dried out in the sun’s heat. His spirits were higher without the swarms of mosquitoes constantly covering him. He played with garbage he found, throwing broken chunks of glass at nesting ducks to make them take flight or scooping up tadpoles with smaller plastic bags.
The dog often loped ahead to investigate which way they should go. He would set their course in the morning by the rising sun and had a much better sense than Casseomae and Dumpster of which way they should travel through the marsh.
“We’ve not seen a Skinless den out here,” Casseomae said. “Why are there so many of their things floating in these waters?”
“Oh, they were a rich tribe,” Dumpster said. “They had so much, they would store what they couldn’t keep in their dens out in places like these or even bury it in huge mounds beneath the earth. There are many fine tales of how Lord Murk raided these treasure hoards—”
The Prince Who Fell from the Sky Page 11