The Rightful Heir

by Jefferson Knapp

  Clementine straightened in relief. “Oh…good! I don’t want another encounter with those insane beasts.”

  “What do you mean?” Felix asked.

  “King Benjamin, Paco—he saved our kingdom—and Roscoe, you remember Roscoe, right?” Clementine didn’t hide his irritation.

  “Uhhhh…” Felix didn’t know how to react to the pig’s question.

  “You know, Roscoe, who abandoned us to go look for those crazy goats instead of helping us—”

  “Oh yeah, him!” Felix barked.

  “Well, these wild goats were going to make us their slaves and were about to kill Roscoe in a jousting battle—”

  “A what?” Mac asked.

  Clementine sighed. The thought of explaining everything was too much for his patience. “Never mind. Just keep your eyes open, alright?”

  BENJAMIN ENTERED THE LIVING ROOM, where his mom and dad were watching TV. He wasn’t sure if his dad knew about his skipping school and he sure wasn’t going to bring it up. “Dad, can you help me with my homework assignment?”

  “Sure, what do you need?” Tom sat up in his recliner. Carol looked up from the magazine she was half-reading.

  “Well, I’m making a Trojan horse…a small one. Only it will be a, um…Trojan pig.” He looked down at the floor embarrassed.

  Tom laughed out loud with a few snorts mixed in. “That’s great! I love it!” Carol smiled.

  “So I was wondering if you had anything that isn’t huge or too small that I can use for it?”

  His father leaned back in his recliner and stared at the ceiling. “Ya know, I think I may have something perfect for you. Are you going to have your own little people inside of it?”

  Benjamin gulped. “Um, yeah, or whatever else I can put in it.” Like a ton of fireworks!

  “Let’s go out to the shop and see if I still have some barrels. There may even be one you can open up.” Tom got out of his chair and put on his slippers. His son followed him to the tool shop behind the house. Benjamin had forgotten how creepy it was in the dark. Tom had kept all his dad’s old tools and knick-knacks through the years. They scavenged the entire shop but saw no sign of a barrel.

  “Let’s look out back.” Tom grabbed a flashlight.

  Walking through the weeds, Benjamin stubbed his toe on a large rock. “Ouch!”

  “What happened?”

  “Oh, I just hit my foot on…Pugsly’s grave,” Benjamin finished softly.

  His dad sighed deeply. “Good ol’ Pugsly.”

  Benjamin stared quietly at the rock his dad had placed. The last light of dusk shone there. He stayed, staring at the plot, while Tom searched the yard. The silence was broken. “Aha!” Benjamin looked over to see his dad in silhouette, holding a medium-sized barrel over his head. “I’ve found it!”

  “WHICH WAY, FELIX?” Clementine asked under the dark trees of Persly’s Woods.

  “South.” The self-assured fox trotted on.

  The pig addressed the rest. “We go south, gentlemen.” He charged in the direction opposite the one he and Malcolm had taken the last time they’d journeyed together.

  They ran through the eerie forest, overwhelmed by the noise of cicadas and locusts. Even Felix had forgotten how loud they were. They went deeper in. Malcolm and Jonah were a bit spooked as they moved past the trees. The memory of the giant snake skin they’d seen earlier was now more vivid than ever.

  “Hey, Malcolm,” Jonah whispered. “What if that monster comes to this part of—”

  “Shhh!” The raccoon held a claw to his mouth. “Let’s not scare the group any more than they already are!” Or me either.

  Zeus walked in front of Mac in the brigade. The Doberman felt like the king’s bodyguard. “Pretty night, Zeus,” Mac said. Zeus looked up through an opening in the trees. Evening stars twinkled back.

  “Yes it is, Your Majesty.”

  Jonah snorted. “Your Majesty, ha!”

  Mac stopped and turned to him. “What is so funny about that …peasant?”

  “Peasant? Why am I a peasant?”

  “Uh, well, because you don’t have a home…in fact, you never really did from what I understand, and you look horrible, and um…oh yeah, you’re underneath me!” Mac insulted Jonah with a fake smile.

  Jonah stared angrily into his brother’s eyes. “Aaaghhh!” The pug charged his brother and pounced on top of him. Jonah grabbed Mac’s foot in his teeth and bit down.

  “Owww!” Mac squirmed and bit his brother’s hind leg in retaliation.

  Everyone watched in shock as the two little pugs angrily wrestled and fought there in the dark forest. Finally Zeus had enough. “Okay, okay, that’s enough! Get off him!” The pugs stopped fighting. Jonah looked up at the large dog’s head, inches away. Zeus growled. “…Now!”

  Jonah took his time, trying to preserve his dignity. Zeus barked loudly at him. Malcolm watched the Doberman chastise his little friend until he, too, had enough. “Okay, dog. We all know that you’re big and mean, but stop bullying my friend here.”

  “Oh, that’s rich!” Mac got to his feet. “Especially coming from a ‘coon!”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” Malcolm said defensively. Clementine and Felix remained calm as they watched the feud.

  “Oh, gee. Let me think.” Mac tilted his head and looked up at the trees. “It means that you ‘coons have always thought you could do whatever you wanted to and get away with it. You’re quite the hypocrite, telling my bodyguard to back off.”

  “Huh?”

  “Oh yeah, I can’t even count the times you guys would tip over my masters’ trash cans during the night and leave garbage all over the yard. And sometimes they’d blame me for it!”

  “How could you have gotten up on those trash barrels?” Jonah asked.

  “Oh, shut up!” Mac snapped.

  “Hey, don’t you tell my friend to shut up!” Malcolm cried.

  “Step away, ‘coon!” Zeus growled.

  “Alright, everybody! That’s enough!” Clementine stood on a fallen tree branch in the moonlight. He hopped off and made his way over to them. “Now we have a job to do, and I don’t want to hear any more arguing over who is the rightful king. You got it?” He tossed his head at the two pugs staring at the ground.

  Mac mumbled under his breath, “Well, when I’m king I’m gonna kick out all raccoons and brothers—”

  “Mac!” the pig shouted. Zeus almost defended Mac but decided against it.

  Felix sighed and walked on. The thought of introducing all his friends to their new family was looking grim. If this is how they’re going to act, maybe the others would rather stay here in the forest with that giant snake…Hey! Why is the forest quiet?

  Crack! Crack! They jumped at the movement in the bushes, then raced to hide behind a large stump…and waited for whatever it was to come out. It was dead silent. Crunch! Crunch! Something that smelled horrible walked across the dead leaves. Then an armadillo came out of the bushes in the moonlight, unaware of their concern. They moaned in relief, and Mac started to laugh at the silliness.

  HISSSSSSSSSSSSS! The shadow of a gargantuan, black snake appeared from the bushes next to the armadillo…and, just like that, the armadillo was gone. The monster slithered into another group of bushes. Its tail took forever to disappear, like a never-ending train.

  Every eye behind the log bulged in terror. Clementine gulped the air and was just about to emit a horrified yell—“Shhhhhhh!” They looked up. In a tree branch directly above were four black-masked faces. Malcolm instantly recognized his friends, who put their fingers to their mouths and shook their heads, not making a sound. The group remained helpless on the ground, at the mercy of the monstrous snake. One of the raccoons mouthed, “Don’t move!”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  The Great Roscoe

  BENJAMIN TOSSED AND TURNED for hours. He’d worked all night on the Trojan Pig. He’d spent most of it cleaning the barrel—wiping off a coat of grease and the grass and dirt packed i
nside—before he decided that the belly of a giant snake wouldn’t care about dirt. Now it lay on his desk with paints, pencils, and other crafts scattered around it.

  He dozed in and out of sleep. Which pug was born first? Jonah or Mac? I hope it’s Mac. He seems nicer…and he looks better. But Malcolm really likes Jonah. And his owner did die. I wonder if he feels sad? Then he remembered Jessica Howell. She’s Mac’s owner! What if he is the king? Will he go back home? He started to doze. We’ve gotta find out who was born first… I wonder where their mother is? His eyelids were too heavy to keep open. He slept the rest of the night.

  ROSCOE WALKED THROUGH THE TALL GRASS under a nearly full moon. But unlike before, he wasn’t trying to get home. Or maybe he was. The stars lit the cloudless night sky. He had no idea in which direction to head.

  “Ouch!” The goat walked into a thorn thicket, pricking his nose. He smelled the air and instantly recognized the scent lingering in the sticky bushes. “Blackberries,” he said under his breath. He remembered the silly situation Clementine had gotten himself into.… Blackberry bushes! That’s where we found them! They came to us by the bushes!

  He stood quietly on his spot and looked around, squinting to see any movement. The sparse, shadowy evergreen trees stopped him from seeing very far. How did they know we were here? Oh, that’s right! The pig screamed bloody murder. Roscoe wavered. He didn’t want to attract the attention of something or someone else. He gulped. “Uh…hello?” he said softly to the shadowy calm pasture. No response. The little goat mustered up a little more courage, “Hello? Um, it’s me. Roscoe.” Nothing. “HELLO?!” he yelled into the night air.

  “Helloooo!…hellooooo!…helloooooo!”

  PLOP! The fainting goat fell over onto the cold ground. “Wait a minute! That was an echo, stupid!” A stick snapped close by. He jumped to his feet. “Oh, dear,” he said nervously. “At least I hope it was just a deer…”

  Not wanting to yell out any more to the hiding creatures, which hopefully were not really there, he did something he hadn’t intended to do. “Whoop.” It was a weak attempt, but instinctive nonetheless. “Whoop, whoop!” He cleared his throat as he grew more confident. “Ahem…Whoop! Whoop! Whoop!” the goat declared to the darkness around him. He started to walk while bellowing his ancestral call. “Whoop! Whoop! Whoop! Ouch!” He stepped into a thorn bush and quickly backed out. “Whoop!! Whoop!! Whoop!!”

  The coyote’s ears shot up. “Belshak! Did you hear that?”

  Belshak turned to the brown-haired youngling behind him. “Hear what?”

  The rest of the pack hadn’t heard it either. The young coyote flinched. He noticed how much hungrier and madder their leader looked the longer they waited for their large feast. “I thought…I may’ve heard a wild goat downwind. It was far away, though.”

  Belshak breathed heavily. “You want him? Go get him! We’re going to wait for the best of meats!” His yellow eyes squinted. “But when you return, we’ll kill and eat you, too.” Some of the coyotes looked shocked. He addressed them. “We will wait this out until our food arrives!”

  The young coyote looked away in shame. He turned his head downwind again, knowing a wild goat was out there somewhere. He stayed with the pack as they continued on in the moonlight.

  “WHOOP! Aw, this is ridiculous.” Roscoe snorted in frustration. He was tired of walking in the tall grass and found a place to lie down for the night.

  “… whoop.”

  He scrambled to his feet. “Who’s there?”

  The ground shook lightly, tickling the bottom of the little goat’s hooves. Roscoe took a deep breath and called out again. “Whoop! Whoop!” Out of the shadowy evergreens trotted a herd of wild goats, hooves pounding the ground gently. His eyes were as big as saucers as they approached him. Not knowing what to do, he again called “Whoo—”

  “You don’t have to keep doing that… Whoop!” one of them said, coming up to him.

  Roscoe knew it would be useless to count them, although they looked fewer than last time. “Huh-hello. I don’t know if you remember me, but my name is—”

  “Roscoe, son of Stinky. Whoop!”

  He recognized the goat as Zane, Zebulon’s right hand. “Yes! You do remember!” He recalled them jumping into the thorn bushes after their leader. “Well, about last time, I want to apologize for not jousting Zebulon. You see, I…” He looked around. “Uh…where is Zebulon?”

  One by one the wild goats knelt to him in the moonlit field. Even the older goats, long beards flowing in the breeze, grunted, knelt painfully, and bowed. Roscoe gulped.

  “Hail, Roscoe, son of Stinky! Whoop!” One of the goats declared, and in unison they repeated, “Hail, Roscoe, son of Stinky! Whoop! Whoop! Whoop!”

  Roscoe was speechless. He’d never felt so awkward.

  “Whoop!”

  “Ummm…so where’s Zebulon?”

  Zane kept his head lowered to the ground. “He was killed.”

  Roscoe gasped. “Killed? Whoop!” His impulse to whoop surprised him. “How?”

  “By coyotes, my great leader. Whoop!” a different goat replied.

  “Whoa! Hey…wait a minute, guys. I don’t know why you’re calling me your leader, but—”

  “Because you defeated the great Zebulon! WHOOP!”

  “Defeated? Whoop! I-I never defeated him, I just…sort of dodged him.”

  Zane stood. “Whoop! But you did what no other creature has ever done before.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You survived!” Zane said with awe. The herd joined his “Whoop! Whoop!”

  “When…when was Zebulon killed?”

  “Last night. Another of us died, too.” Zane said softly.

  A goat stepped forward. “We managed to escape, but they took two of us.”

  “Oh, gosh I’m…I’m really sorry,” Roscoe said sympathetically. “My father died earlier today.”

  “Stinky…” Zane said. “Our cousin Stinky. Whoop!” They all bowed their heads in his honor. It was a somber scene in the moonlit pasture.

  Roscoe was touched, then remembered his purpose. “His last wish was for me to find you again. I think he believes I’m a wild goat! Whoop!”

  Zane smiled kindly. “It’s not a coincidence that you found us the day after our leader was killed. Whoop! By your horns we will follow you, Roscoe, son of Stinky.” All the wild goats knelt to him once more.

  A shiver of excitement ran up Roscoe’s back. Oh, man. If Clementine and the others could see me now!

  “Whoop! Whoop!” they called in unison.

  Zane raised his curly horns. “Now, Roscoe, son of Stinky, what is your first order for us tonight? Whoop!”

  The Matador didn’t need even a second to decide. He couldn’t hold back his grin.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  A Long, Anticipated Meeting

  “HOW LONG ARE WE SUPPOSED TO STAY LIKE THIS?” Clementine whispered to Felix, but the fox was still as stone. “Malcolm? Hey, Malcolm?” The raccoon looked at him sternly, then nodded. Suddenly they heard something approach quickly from behind.

  “Shhhhh!!” the raccoon cried.

  “Is it gone, Zeke?” Malcolm whispered to him.

  “I think so. But to be safe we’d better keep quiet.”

  “Felix, which way are your friends?” Clementine nudged his ear. “Hey!”

  Felix jumped. “Oh. Sorry, I-I wasn’t expecting that m-monster t-to be so huge.”

  “You should’ve seen the skin it shed,” Jonah said in awe.

  “Which way do we go?” Clementine again asked the fox.

  “Oh, we…we head south. I’m not sure how far, but we need to keep moving south.”

  “What’s going on, Malcolm?” another raccoon asked.

  “I’m accompanying these animals into the forest to help bring back a large group that want to join their kingdom.”

  “A thousand others, give or take,” Clementine added.

  “Whoa! That’s a pretty big operation!”
>
  “Yeah, and their king is with us, too.” Malcolm looked at Jonah.

  “The boy’s here? Where is he?” Zeke looked around.

  Mac sighed. He didn’t want to talk to the raccoons, but he took a step forward.

  “This is the king.” Malcolm pushed Jonah into view.

  The raccoons stared at the little pug. Then Zeke snickered. “Nice to meet you, Your Majesty.”

  “No, no, no! I believe you all are mistaken.” Mac rudely cut in front of his brother.

  “Stop it! No more!” Clementine snorted angrily. “We need to find the others and get out of this place! There will be no more family fights, especially with that snake out here. Now let’s get moving!” He looked at the four other raccoons. “If you fellas want to join in, I’m sure we can use the help.”

  Zeke turned to the others and shrugged. “Well, I guess we’ll be safer with these guys than by ourselves.”

  “You will be,” Malcolm said. “Where’s the boss at?”

  “Probably sleeping on his branch,” Zeke replied.

  “I hope that monster doesn’t come near our place,” another raccoon said.

  “I don’t think it could get its mouth around fat Marlon. He’d sleep through it all, anyway.” The others quietly laughed.

  Three dogs, five raccoons, one pig, and a fox set out through Persly’s Woods as the moon made its way across the starry sky.

  JESSICA HOWELL LIFTED THE BLINDS in her darkened bedroom and peeked through the window to see if Mac had come home. The outdoor lamp and moonlight illuminated most of the yard, and there was still no sign of her missing pug.

  “Mac, where are you?” she asked softly. She tried to think what Mac might have been doing over the past couple of days. Nothing unusual came to mind…except for the night that boy from the school bus was at her fence. I’ll bet he’s got something to do with this. He didn’t even ride the bus this morning!

  Time passed and the tired travelers still saw no sign of Felix’s pack. The moon was setting over the treetops. Morning was a few hours away.