The Battle of the Werepenguins

by Allan Woodrow

  I shivered, thankful the winds only howled and did not bark like penguins. That would have been far more jarring. “So, what happened next?” I asked, squeezing the man’s arm. “Tell me!”

  “Do not worry. I will tell you everything, but I can’t feel my arm. You’re cutting off the circulation.”

  “Sorry.” I stopped squeezing and stepped backward.

  “Thank you,” the man said, shaking his elbow. “As I was saying, the world was doomed.”

  42.

  The Annika Code

  Grom marched toward Bolt and the Stranger. His eyes stared forward, his face emotionless. The Stranger inspected his new werepenguin pet with a look of total glee. Grom muttered something about ruling and maiming and rebuilding the large fish fryer.

  Grom cackled, and so did the Stranger, and then Bolt. The Stranger snapped his fingers, and thousands of penguins began cackling behind him.

  Annika had never heard a penguin cackle; she wasn’t even aware they could. But the sound was so nauseating that she almost lost her lunch.

  The Stranger could control them all so easily!

  Annika felt the urge to run out with her knife and attack! Save her friends! She put her hand around its hilt.

  But then she released her grip. The Stranger was about anger and hate. Fighting was also about anger and hate. And maybe Bolt had been right to try it a different way. Maybe it wouldn’t take a warrior to defeat the Stranger, but love.

  That had been the plan she had made with Grom.

  She would have to trust it would still work.

  She stood, revealing herself, and removed her bandit code book from her pocket. The Stranger didn’t move to attack her but gazed at her cautiously. Annika opened to a page in her book and began to read, taking a step closer with every sentence.

  “The Code of the Bandit, chapter 123, subsection 3. ‘On Family,’ amended by Annika Lambda.” She cleared her throat. Her voice wobbled, but as she spoke, it gained strength. The words seemed to warm her. “A bandit clan is a family. Not because they are related by blood, but because they care about one another. And love one another, unconditionally. What is a family anyway? I think a family is anyone who makes you feel better when you’re sad, and shares in your happiness. A family stands by your side, no matter what. Which means a mom and dad are a family, or just one of the two, or a grandma or an aunt or an uncle. A teacher can be family. And so can a best friend. And you know what? A giant bullfrog could even be part of your family, although that seems unlikely.”

  Bolt stared at Annika, his fingers twitching.

  Annika kept reading, louder now as she walked along the edge of the ravine. “Nothing is more important than family, I truly believe that. Sure, I can’t say every penguin in the world is part of my family, like some others can, but that’s OK. I have a big family anyway, one filled with bandits, and I will always stand by them. But a werepenguin is also part of my family now. And so is a pirate, even if I never see him again. And, maybe, even another werepenguin I just met a week ago. Who would have thought that?”

  Bolt wobbled. He took a step toward Annika, but then tried to take a step back and nearly fell. His eyes began to blink rapidly.

  “This is ridiculous!” the Stranger scoffed, rolling his eyes. Bolt continued blinking his.

  “I will stand by my friends and family,” said Annika, no longer reading from her book but making a note to add a little more to the section on family later. “And I know, deep down in their hearts, my family will always stand by me. Because I love them, every one, and I’m pretty sure my family loves me, too.”

  Bolt smiled at Annika, and not an evil smile. He reached out his hand to her. She reached out to touch his.

  “Are you OK now?” asked Annika, smiling.

  Bolt smiled back. “Yes, thank you. I just needed to hear your voice, I guess. To feel love instead of hate. Hate just makes everything worse.”

  Annika felt a blow on the back of her shoulders, and her legs gave way. It felt like she had been hit by a battering ram, although since Annika had never been hit by a battering ram, she could only guess that’s what it felt like. She had been focusing so hard on Bolt she had completely forgotten about that penguin bodyguard. The bird stood over her, shining silver reflecting off the ice. The penguin raised up her metal wing to strike Annika again.

  And then didn’t.

  Bolt flung his body into the penguin, knocking her away. “Don’t hurt my friend!” he yelled. Annika was impressed. Maybe he’s braver than I give him credit for, she thought.

  Bolt backed away from the penguin and now stood side by side with Annika, the ravine directly behind them. She could sense the army of penguins watching from below.

  The silver-armored penguin stood in front of them, hissing.

  “Get them, my pet!” the Stranger ordered Grom. Grom nodded. Was that another cackle from his lips? He marched forward, his arms outstretched, his eyes glazed. Annika crouched—her foot was dangerously close to the edge of the ravine and the penguins below—ready for a fight.

  And then Grom stopped and winked at Annika. He turned to face the Stranger. “You’re all, ‘Get them,’ and I’m all, ‘Why would I do that?’ ”

  The Stranger scratched the top of his head, confused.

  Annika shook the surprise off her face and grinned. “He’s not born from hate,” she said, “not like you. You can’t control him.” To Grom, she whispered, “Nice acting. You even fooled me for a moment.”

  “Interesting,” mused the Stranger. He glared at Bolt, and Bolt glared right back. Something was going on between them, some sort of invisible war. Bolt’s mouth was formed into a grimace, sweat bubbling up on his forehead. Finally, the Stranger stepped back and his shoulders slumped. Whatever mind control he had tried had failed. “You are strong, Bolt. I guess the Fortune Teller did say except. What a drag.”

  Annika, Bolt, and Grom had been so focused on the Stranger and their impending victory that they didn’t see the armored bird until it was too late. The penguin rammed into Annika first, sending her hurtling backward and down the steep, icy ravine. A moment later, Grom and Bolt were tumbling down behind her.

  43.

  Whiteout

  To Bolt, it seemed like he rolled forever, faster and faster, hitting hidden shards of ice and branches and other unpleasant things as he plummeted downward before finally coming to a stop at the bottom of the embankment. There were a few inches of snow, and it helped cushion his fall.

  Bolt blinked a few times to clear his head. Annika and Grom were splayed on the ground next to him.

  “Are you g-guys OK?” Bolt asked, his voice wobbly.

  “I think so,” said Annika. “A little dizzy from all that rolling.”

  “Me too,” said Grom, standing up and then spinning back to the ground.

  Behind them, the ravine continued endlessly, a deep gorge that zigzagged through ice mountains. But in front of them thousands of penguins glowered, eyes exuding hate.

  “What should we do now?” Grom asked, getting to his feet.

  “Umm, get out of here?” suggested Annika. Bolt thought that was an excellent idea.

  They sped down the ravine, the horde of penguins stampeding behind them. Penguins are fast in the water but slower on land. That was fortunate, as Bolt was already slow and Grom didn’t appear to be any faster. The snow was thick, which further slowed them down.

  They only had one way to go—down the ravine. Its walls reached far up into the sky alongside them, creating a steep, icy wall they could never hope to climb.

  Behind them, penguins charged. Fortunately, these penguins did not wear silver head mirrors or armor. Although the air was dense with thick hostility, Bolt could feel one or two birds getting nearer. He thought, Trip! and he could hear a penguin fall face-first into the snow, and a couple of penguins grunt as they fell in a heap atop it.<
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  Bolt continued shooting out orders like Veer right! and Turn left! which made penguins stumble off course and collide into one another. He even instructed a few penguins to tickle a neighbor, which he hated to do, but it was better than being captured.

  But there were so many penguins! Thousands upon thousands, so many that they seemed to cover the entire landscape in their wake. Bolt projected more thoughts at the penguins, but the layer of hate was too thick to order more than a few at a time. Not only that, his orders struggled to penetrate some penguin heads, clanging against their buried nuggets of hate.

  Up ahead, the ravine narrowed, two mountains pinching together, although it opened up immediately after that. They would reach that narrow gap soon, but then what? Just more running? The penguins would never tire and never stop chasing them.

  Annika, quick as lightning, had sped ahead of them but kept having to slow her pace, shouting, “Can’t you two run any faster?”

  “Not really,” said Bolt.

  “Doing the best I can,” grunted Grom.

  “Well, try harder!” Her voice echoed, disturbing some snow on the steep mountain slope, and a small snowball rolled down and landed by Bolt’s running feet.

  The snow was untouched and so pristine. A few more crumbs of white fell onto his shoes.

  Bolt surveyed his surroundings. Falling snow. A narrow opening ahead. Thousands of penguins chasing them, filling the ravine in a sea of black and white. Bolt had an idea, and if he was going to try it, it had to be now.

  Bolt sent out a wave of thought to the penguins behind him. These were not orders to veer left or tickle one another. These orders weren’t to stop running, because he knew those thoughts, good thoughts, probably wouldn’t penetrate their hate. So, instead, he encouraged the hate, sending thoughts that made the rottenness stronger, flooding into thousands of penguins with such fury they could do nothing but obey. Bark! Show your anger! Cry out!

  A few penguins barked raspy, guttural cries of anger.

  No! All of you! Bark!

  There must have been half a mile of penguins behind them. But Bolt tapped into their collective hate, filling the entire cavern with his orders.

  Thousands of penguins barked, their voices joining together into a deafening cry that might have awakened the heavens, if heavens slept (and they do not). But, more important, the sudden sound jarred the snow on the mountain cliffs, the serene blanket of white that had sat peacefully for decades, if not centuries.

  Bark! Bolt ordered.

  And again, the penguins joined into an angry rapture of noise.

  The snow began to fall, first a few clumps at the very top of the mountains alongside the gorge, and then more. Snow fell in bunches, thicker and heavier than even Bolt had anticipated. The roar of the snow drowned out any remaining barking.

  “Avalanche!” cried Annika.

  “That was the idea,” Bolt said.

  They had reached the narrow slit in the ravine. Annika raced through it. And then Grom.

  Bolt was behind them both. He turned and saw a world turned white, filled with the screaming rumble of snow chunks and ice boulders filling the ravine, penguins vanishing as snow fell over them in waves.

  There was nothing but winds of white—the entire world had turned into a powdery cloud—and a gush of wind enveloped Bolt and blew him off his feet, just as he reached the narrow passage in the gorge. The gust blew him forward and through the gap.

  Behind him the roaring snow buried the ravine, and with it, thousands of barking penguins.

  44.

  The Almost Toothless

  Annika, Grom and Bolt soon reached a section of the ravine that was easier to scale, then wound around a gorge, through a clump of frozen trees, and finally stopped at a clearing next to a flowing stream of water. They needed to catch their breath, tend to their wounds, and plan their next move. Fortunately, Annika didn’t have a scratch on her, and Bolt had only a few small cuts. Grom had slightly twisted his ankle, but it was a small nuisance. Penguins, and people with penguin blood, heal faster than most.

  Annika sat on a small ice mound, thumbing through her bandit code, the narrow rolling stream below her feet. The frigid water crashed across rocks and around fallen branches, alit by the still-rising moon above. It was a big moon, a magical moon. An always full sort of moon.

  Bolt stood behind Annika, holding the silver tooth in his hands, while Grom sat farther behind them, eyes closed, trying to feel the penguin-verse. He was improving his penguin skills—he said he could detect penguins hundreds of yards away. Bolt was thankful that born from love protected Grom from the Stranger’s evil influence, but the teenager needed more time to perfect his powers if he was going to help Bolt fight.

  As Bolt sat down next to Annika, she jerked up; she had not heard him approach. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you,” said Bolt.

  “Not bad,” she said, slipping her bandit book back inside her jacket. “If you could slink noiselessly like that all the time, you could almost be a bandit.” She scooted over to give him room.

  “It’s hard enough being a werepenguin,” said Bolt. Annika smiled and then pointed to the silver tooth in his hands. Bolt held it up for her to see better. “You know, I thought maybe, if I came face-to-face with the Stranger, I could just impale him with this.” Bolt looked away, feeling lost. “And I thought about it, of course. But in the end, I just couldn’t. It’s not because I’m not brave enough . . .”

  “I know,” Annika interjected.

  “. . . but I don’t want to kill him.” He smiled at Annika, a brotherly smile. They were family, after all. “I won’t kill anyone. I’ve vowed not to spill blood. It’s evil, and I won’t be evil. That’s the key. To embrace love.”

  “Then give me the tooth. I haven’t made any vows.”

  Bolt shook his head. “The seer gave it to me. There must be a reason. It just hasn’t come to me yet.”

  “It better come to you soon. We’re going to have to face the Stranger again.”

  Bolt wished he had answers he didn’t have, just like he wished he had strength he never felt. But mostly, he had questions: How can we win? Will we survive? I’m hungry—anyone want to make me some dinner?

  He passed the tooth from one hand to the other, as if feeling the weight not just in his hands but in his entire body.

  “It’s OK,” said Annika, putting an arm around his shoulders. Bolt twitched, surprised, and the tooth slipped from his fingers and bounced off their tips. He swiped at the tooth but ended up knocking it farther away.

  The tooth tumbled down, down, down, bounced off a rock, and then right before it splashed in the water a large gray fish leapt up and swallowed the tooth in one gulp.

  “Did that really just happen?” Annika asked with a yelp.

  Bolt sprung to his feet. Could he jump into the water and catch the fish? No, the stream was moving too fast! The fish would be gone in a heartbeat, too.

  Annika was about to dive in, preparing to plunge into the cold water, where she was far more likely to catch hypothermia than a fish, when Bolt held out his hand. “No. I got this.”

  Bolt closed his eyes and reached his arm out over the water. He furrowed his brow and scrunched his nose. The water below began to bubble and froth. Bolt’s face twisted, his brows furrowing even more. Down below, the rolling water seemed to flow a little faster.

  SPLISH! Instantly, the gray fish jumped out of the water, against the stream’s current, tail flopping. In an impressive arc, the fish flew up a good four feet in the air and—THIMP!—landed straight onto Bolt’s hand.

  “Hi!” the fish squeaked to Bolt.

  “How did you do that?” Annika gasped.

  “The penguin-verse is strong,” he said. Then, to the fish, “Can I have my tooth back?”

  “It’s sort of stuck in there, bud,” answered the fish.


  “Do you mind if I put you in my backpack, then?”

  “Go for it.”

  Bolt still had his trusty unicorn-and-rainbow backpack strapped across his shoulders. He removed the backpack, unzipped it, and thanked the fish before tossing it inside. He’d worry about extracting that tooth later.

  He inhaled, a breath that was longer and deeper than your run-of-the-mill deep breath. They needed to go back to face the Stranger. Or really, Bolt needed to go back. He wished he could stay here, by this calming stream, but that was not his destiny. His destiny was to free the world.

  But what of Annika and Grom?

  Annika’s code meant she fought for her friends. Bolt understood that. She was a hero, and even if she said she would stay behind, she wouldn’t. She’d sneak up behind him like she did in the throne room and the fish fryer. Grom would probably do the same. He was also heroic.

  But was Bolt a hero, like them? He needed a code, just like the bandits had, and the pirates. The Code of Bolt. He would need a better title for it, but he would start living it now. And his code was simple: you don’t have to be a bandit or a pirate or a mole to stand up for what’s right. You merely have to be you, and do your best. Because what else can you do?

  Bolt wasn’t ready for the Stranger before, but he was now. He would not be controlled—not anymore—as long as he held on to love. That’s how Grom had kept the Stranger’s voice out. Because he was born from love.

  And if Grom was born from love, that love came from Bolt. Which meant Bolt had love inside him. Bolt could win; he just had to be himself.

  “I’m going to take a walk and think,” said Bolt.

  Annika gave him an inquisitive look. “But you’ll be back.”

  “Of course. In a few minutes.”