“That sounds painful,” I guessed. I really didn’t like imagining a nice girl like Elizabeth going through that, especially since I could imagine it so clearly.
“She lost consciousness very quickly,” Rat told me. It wasn’t a reassurance. It was one tiny mitigating detail in the awfulness we had to deal with.
“But that is the story of the city of iron and yellow smoke!” Rat declared loudly. He’d been looking right up at me, but now he spun around on his wooden crate to address the townsfolk. “Maybe some of you have heard it before? Perhaps you’ve heard hints of it, rumors of a cursed metal castle? My mistress needs directions if she is to save the princess and the town.”
This wasn’t going to work. Nobody wanted to look at us. Scratch that, some people did want to look at us, and not in a friendly way. A thin, mean looking old man in a gray pinstriped suit strolled stiffly up to us and snapped at Rat-In-Boots, “Tell your mistress to take her familiar and get out. A witch and her demon rat will get no help here for anything.”
I lunged to my feet, sending bottles and cans clattering noisily in all directions as I stomped through Rat’s model town. Bending down, I snatched him up in one hand, stuffing him into the hood hanging behind my neck as I stepped up on his soap box. It didn’t quite bring me up to the man’s eye level, but close enough that I could look him right in the eyes.
“You think I’m a witch. You think I’m a witch because I have a talking rat. That’s it, right? Because he’s a rat. If I had a talking dove, or a dog, or I bet even a cat you’d be okay with that, right?” I asked.
“You consort with vermin—” he started to snipe back, but I lost it before he finished.
“You stupid, bigoted, arrogant, old mummy!” I yelled, “What is wrong with you? How do you even dare? Do you know this rat? Do you know how hard he’s worked to keep me alive as I’ve done stupid thing after stupid thing, when he’s got nothing tying him to me but that he found me about to get my fool self killed? But if he was a cat, that would be okay, right? Hey, you like cats. Except I bet you don’t, because you’re a miserable prune with hate instead of blood, just looking for any excuse to bully a stranger. So, let me give you an excuse!”
And then, I kicked him in the balls.
His reflexes weren’t good enough. He started to crouch, but I connected well enough to drop him onto his knees, wheezing. Then, I looked around, because as trouble went, I’d just let my temper buy us a truck full. It was time to run, and I needed to know which way to bolt.
The laughter wasn’t totally unexpected, but the applause caught me by surprise. A solidly built man with a lot of gray stubble and a metal Sheriff star on his shirt swaggered over and bent down to pull the old jerk I’d kicked back to his feet. “Come on, your honorableness. Let’s get you back to the mayor’s mansion, and you can draw up an arrest warrant so I can put it in the filing cabinet with the others. I reckon I’ll be warm this winter.”
That got a lot of laughter too, and people crowded around me. That was uncomfortable, and even more uncomfortable when a man grabbed my hands and shook them while a woman grabbed my shoulders and kissed my cheek.
“Does anybody know how to get to this metal town they’re going to?” a man in the crowd called out.
I heard a lot of mumbled variations on ‘no’.I was distracted by the first pie dropped in my arms. A loaf of bread followed. People were giving me food?
“That was beautiful,” a woman who might as well have had ‘housewife’ printed on her apron gushed. “I wish I’d had the sense to do that two years ago.”
Someone dropped a red and white checkered cloth on me. Oh, for pity’s sake. But Rat hopped over my shoulder and wrapped it around the pile of food, tying the corners into a fat knot that I had to admit looked easy to hold.
“Is there a guide, then? An explorer? Perhaps a retired adventurer who might know a backwoods path or a secret gully to get us closer to our goal?” Rat chirped from the top of the pile.
“The woods are full of paths,” an old lady answered, “Mordecai makes his living hunting in those woods, and he knows where they lead. But you don’t want to take your girl there, not dressed like Red Riding Hood.”
I stared at her flatly. “Just tell me where he lives, okay?”
smell blood,” Rat warned before we even got there.
This Mordecai guy’s house wasn’t too hard to find. You could see it from the edge of town, barely. Like, “little speck on the edge of the forest” barely. I’d almost left behind the sack full of food. It bugged me that I was expected to carry this thing around, but nobody’d demanded it. They were just being generous. I’d given in and taken it because when I stuck a stick through the knot and carried it over my shoulder in the old-timey picture way, Rat scampered up and stood on the tip, peering over my head. That was way too adorable for me to give up.
So, I walked across fields for a while with him playing lookout, until I reached a fence. Beyond that were more fences, and a chunky house with log cabin walls but shaped more like a cottage, a hen house and some other little wooden buildings like it. Which was when Rat decided to give me an update on the whole blood thing.
“If he’s a hunter, shouldn’t this place smell like blood all the time?” I asked him skeptically. I sniffed. I sure couldn’t smell it.
“Maybe. I don’t know,” he hedged.
“But you want me to play it safe.”
He didn’t answer, and I had to laugh. “Playing it safe’s not something I’m good at. Running like … ueesh. You and your stupid ‘please.’ I don’t even know what to say, half the time.” I rolled my eyes as I swung over the fence, landed on my feet again with a thump, and headed for the side of the house. There was no door on this side anyway.
“Keep watch, okay? I’m sick of being snuck up on,” I added in a whisper.
I don’t know why I felt like someone might overhear me. Nothing bigger than Rat himself could be hiding within a hundred yards.
I circled around the house, trying to figure if it would be best to keep my distance. I decided instead to creep right up to the side and edge around. There was only one thing I was worried about, and I couldn’t imagine I could outrun him in this wide, flat field.
“A lot of blood,” Rat whispered into my ear. I glanced at him, and had to bite down on my laughter. Nervous as this situation was, his little face bobbing up and down as he smelled the air went from ‘cute’ to ‘hilarious’ when he kept wrinkling up his nose in disgust.
I really wasn’t good at playing it safe. Why was I trying to pretend? I leaned around the corner and called out, “Hey, Mister. You’re alive, right? Because it looks like my rat owes me five bucks.”
This town seemed to specialize in old people, and Mordecai—“Hey, and you’re Mordecai, right?”—was a perfect example. He wore crude, ragged jeans and a flannel shirt the same dull blue-gray color. He had a rifle, and he and it looked about the same—old and hard. He didn’t have much hair, and what he had was white, but he didn’t have many wrinkles. He didn’t look unhealthy, old-person thin. He looked in shape, and moved easily as he wiped down his rifle with a rag. Not that I knew anything about guns, but it was long and thin and I was guessing it was an antique.
“I’m alive. Your rat smells my dog, Wilbur. I buried what I could.”
I winced. “Ow. Geez, I’m sorry. Losing a dog is rough. Hunting dog, right? Pet and partner?” When he nodded, I repeated, “Geez. Sorry.” I hoped he could tell I meant it. I hated fake sympathy.
“Hunting dog is why he was killed. Wolf got him. Killed him in his own kennel. Doesn’t want me tracking him in the woods,” the old guy recited sourly. He turned beady brown eyes to me and added, “And yeah, I’m Mordecai.”
Rat started to bristle up, and I shot him a warning look. I wasn’t stupid. ‘Wolf’ was not a good word. But it couldn’t be mine, because mine wouldn’t have cared. “Sorry again, then, ‘cause I hate bugging you on what’s already a really bad day. I’m looking for a city of ir
on and yellow smoke. You heard of it, maybe know of a way there?”
Mordecai had no shortage of patience. “Yes, and no. These woods are full of paths. One of them goes to a place I guess is like that. Without my dog, there’s no way to find it. All the paths look the same, except to his sense of smell.”
I winced. Good job, Mary, just keep kicking him right in his grief.
Still, I turned my head asked Rat, “How’s your sense of smell?”
“Better than yours. Nothing like a dog’s.” He sounded frustrated and apologetic.
“I’ll figure out something else, then. Thanks, Mister. Really sorry about your dog. Guess it must have been old if a wolf got it.” I stepped away from his house to let him know I wasn’t going to hang around and bug him.
“Wouldn’t have mattered. A wolf’s stronger than a dog. Stronger, smarter, faster. Better in every way. It’s gonna be a pain in the rear training up a new dog with a wolf trying to get it before I can put a bullet in him,” Mordecai answered, as gloomy as he was patient.
I felt like I was on fire. “Better in every way, huh? Including sense of smell? And you’re going to have to train a new dog anyway?” I asked, trying to hold a lid on this terrible glee.
The old man wasn’t stupid at all. “They’re hard to train, but it doesn’t matter. There’s no way I can catch this one alive. Too smart. Probably talks.” Still, he watched me as he said it. He knew I had an angle. I was probably vibrating with this evil idea.
“He’ll walk right up to you,” I promised him. I could hear myself drawling, rolling every word across my tongue maliciously.
“Miss Mary, please don’t do this,” Rat whispered to me from my shoulder. He was pulling on his ears again.
I felt like I floated as I walked out across Mordecai’s lawn towards the wood. “I’ll have the fairy tale woodsman standing right next to me. My Wolf might be a match for him, but not any regular wolf.”
I could hear Rat’s fast, squeaky breathing. Little clawed fingers grabbed my ear and Rat called out behind me, “Mister Mordecai! Get a collar, rope, whatever you’ll need. This could happen fast. Real fast. Your wolf is watching us right now. He wants to run away, but he can’t.”
I giggled. I wasn’t usually big on revenge, but after the last few days of hell, this was going to feel a lot like justice.
Tree stumps marked the edge of the wood, and some of them were big. I walked up to one wider than I was tall, and hoisted myself up to sit on the edge facing the woods. I heard loud footsteps and clanking and rustling behind me—and the clicking of a gun.
Mordecai grunted. “The trees are too quiet. He’s here, yeah. But he won’t come out.”
“He will,” Rat assured him. From the heavy breathing, he must have been scared out of his wits. “He has no choice.” Claws tightened on my ear. “Maybe you need to be a little more tempting. Stretch out.”
“I’ve got nothing to tempt with, Rat!” I laughed, then contradicted myself. “But maybe he doesn’t think so.” I leaned back a little, propping my hands on the wooden stump. Lifting one bare leg, I laid it out over the surface of the stump and watched the woods.
“I can see you, wolfy,” I called out. I wanted to sound sweet, but I’m no good at sweet. I sounded like the mean little bitch I am. I wasn’t lying, either. A dark shape lurked under a bush with gleaming eyes. Not nearly big enough to be my Wolf, thank goodness. I wasn’t the one committing suicide here. Speaking of which?— “Don’t you want me? You do, right? You’ve never wanted anything more.”
It took a step forward out of the bush. Mordecai’s rifle swung forward past my shoulder, pointed right at it. The wolf took another step forward, like it was being dragged.
I just couldn’t leave well enough alone. “Ooh, what big eyes you have, grandma. And what big paws,” I cooed. I didn’t even get to the teeth line. The wolf’s will broke, and it lunged forward, galloping right at me. Fear jolted through me. It moved so fast, teeth bared in its desperate need to kill me. It was already close enough to jump, rearing up, but the butt of Mordecai’s gun hit it in the side of the head.
The wolf fell, then tried to leap back to its feet and fell again. It dragged itself up , only to have the old man’s gun give it another smack on the skull. The wolf dropped, twitching, and Mordecai pounced on it, wrapping leather belts around its feet.
Then came a huge leather dog collar, and as he slipped it around behind the wolf’s neck, the thing spoke for the first time.
“No. No!” it wailed, starting to thrash, but it was way too late.
Mordecai cinched the buckle closed, and the wolf yelped like it had been shot and collapsed.
“A collar. Not a collar?” it wheezed.
My heart beat a mile a minute and the ice from watching the wolf charge hadn’t gone away, but I still grinned like a mad girl. “I know he’s not as lovable as Wilbur, old man, but with a lot of training, I think you’ve got yourself a fine new hunting dog.”
“He’ll be trouble for a while, but he can talk, which means he can understand orders. We’ll find you your path before I take him back to the kennel for the night.”
On my shoulder Rat squealed, his claws digging painfully into my ear as he shoved his head into my hair and—was he licking my scalp? Then, I got it. He was laughing!
I wasn’t sure what you did to rats, so I rubbed my thumb hard over the top of his head, then slid off the stump. Oh, and I grinned a lot.
The wolf didn’t want to help, but the rest of us weren’t sympathetic. Mordecai kept a leather belt tight around its front ankles, forcing it to lead us with a pathetic three-legged hobble. The thing seemed more stunned than sullen, and I wasn’t sure if that was the collar or it had a concussion. Mordecai held the leash tightly right behind the wolf’s neck, that was for sure.
We followed a skinny, winding track into the trees. This forest wasn’t that bad. The trees were spread out and had wide canopies, and there was much more greenery around their bases than I’d expected at this time of year. Leafy shrubs, small bushes, tall grass made the trail obvious, and it was just as obvious when we got to the first fork.
“We’re looking for a city of iron and yellow smoke. Smell it out for us, Rover,” Mordecai ordered.
The wolf flinched, but Mordecai pushed its head down to the path, and it started waving its nose around, first on the dirt and then in the air.
“Not good paths. This one is better,” it muttered.
It limped down one of the trails, and we wandered under the trees again for a while.
We passed a trail that branched off to the side; the wolf waved its head once and kept moving. A few minutes later, we hit another fork. Honestly, I couldn’t tell it wasn’t the first one, but Mordecai looked satisfied. In fact, as the wolf led us down one, Mordecai leaned down and rubbed his hand over the top of its head. “Good boy.” From its pained grimace, hitting it would have been kinder. Mordecai rewarded a faint growl by shoving the wolf forward with his hand around the chain, and it resumed limping.
As we followed this identical new path through identical trees, the wolf made it clear that to him this was different. He lifted his nose high as he hobbled along, and grumbled, “Smoke. Bad smoke. Poison smoke. That’s what you want, isn’t it, little girl?”
Rat’s pudgy body shot up. “That’s it!”.
“Then this is the right path,” the wolf muttered.
Something looked different up ahead. The track we were on had widened, but I hadn’t noticed until I saw the crossroads. The four dirt paths leading out from it weren’t quite roads, but they were wider and more straight than the tracks we’d been following up until now. A decaying signpost with four arrows stood in the center, making the intersection look almost official.
“Those could say anything.” I wasn’t really arguing. I still felt buoyed from catching the wolf, less tense. I walked out ahead to examine the signpost. Reading it from a distance was out of the question. The wood was ancient, rotten, and unpainted. Even when I st
ood up close in front of it, the letters scratched into the arrows were too worn to be legible.
Mordecai and the wolf trailed up behind me until I felt hot breath on the back of my knees and a harsh, growling voice whisper, “Hello, little girl.”
I threw myself forward and rolled, but I’d underestimated Mordecai. The wolf bit and bit again, throwing its head around and snapping, but the old hunter had yanked it instantly up into the air by the collar.
The wolf went insane. It growled and twisted its head around, trying to bite Mordecai. He slammed the wolf into the ground, pinning it by its neck. It thrashed, unable to get a good grip on the ground with its front legs tied.
“Bad dog! Bad Rover!” Mordecai yelled, smacking its head against the dirt path. It just screeched and snapped, biting in every direction. Pulling his rifle off his back, Mordecai smacked the wolf—Rover—in the head again, then again when the first blow didn’t work.
The wolf lay there limp. “Sorry, Miss. I’m going to have to keep Rover away from little girls, I can see that.” Mordecai panted, sitting on the body and getting out more leather belts to tie the wolf’s ankles and muzzle.
“Any idea when he’ll wake up?” I asked as I climbed back to my feet. My skirt jerked as rat grabbed to it and clung.
“After two beatings like that? Hours. He ain’t doin’ nothing for a while.” Mordecai sighed, picking up the wolf under one arm.
Wow. That skinny old man was strong. The wolf easily weighed more than I did.
“Any clue which of these is the right path?” I asked sourly. Of all the times to lose my guide.
All Mordecai could do was sound regretful. “Not one. I can lead you back to town, but that’s about it. Never been to this crossing before.”
“Frack,” I swore as best I could. Stupid Rat. Although … I hadn’t lost my guide, had I?
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