The manager glanced back in my direction. “Your dog scared to be away from you?”
Paco nodded. “Yeah, he’s a real coward sometimes.”
Another perfect moment for a growl, I thought. It was the only upside to being a canine.
“Well,” said the manager, pointing his thumb back from where we’d come, “I’ll show the rest of your family to the room, and you can come around when you’re ready. That work for you?”
“Fine by me,” said Paco.
With that, the manager headed off.
I rotated my ears in all directions to make sure no one else was nearby, then pushed up on my hind legs to rest my front paws on the chain link.
“What are we going to do now?” I asked in a whisper.
Peering up at the sky, with hands in his pockets, Paco said, “I sure hope your hyena friends are rich.”
“We’re still going to find them?”
He nodded. “We’ll find a car tomorrow morning, even if we have to steal it.” His expression turned deadly serious. “But you’d better make sure your hyena friends pay me—this is my chance to get out of a whole lot of trouble.”
“I’ll do what I can.” It was all I could say. These other hyenas—if they really did exist—remained a mystery. And if we did find them, why would they even listen to me?
“The señora jaguar thinks you’re special,” said Paco, peering hard at me. “She thinks you have an important mission.” He snickered. “But she also says you’re descended from great hunters, so maybe she’s half crazy.”
It was an insult, yet I really couldn’t argue. Who’d ever heard of a hyena hunter before?
AT DAYBREAK, A VOICE JOLTED ME FROM SLEEP.
“Rise and shine, you mangy mutts.” It was the hotel manager, holding a bag of dry dog food under his arm.
The other dogs in the cage must’ve curled close to me at some point during the evening, because I felt their bodies, one on either side. An instant later, they were on their feet, whimpering and yipping with excitement.
Come on dogs, I thought to myself, where’s your self-respect? Then I remembered that dogs didn’t have any—they’d do anything for a treat from their masters. So I might as well play along. I scrambled to my feet and trotted toward the gate, trying my best to mimic their pathetic pleas for food and attention. I even wagged my short tail.
“You’re a strange-looking one, aren’t ya?” the manager asked once he’d gotten a good look at me.
I tried another doggy whimper in reply.
As for the food, it was drier than a withered, dead toad on the highway. After the first mouthful, which crunched and cracked between my teeth, I needed to get a drink. Except the only water was in a bowl that hadn’t been washed in years. The water was cloudy with a brownish tint. To tell the truth, I would’ve rather drank more Coca-Cola.
By the time Paco and Manny came to get me, I’d forced down several mouthfuls, even though every swallow brought me to the verge of choking. I wasn’t going to drink that water, though. While I ate, the two dogs held back; both of them were smart enough to keep their distance, because I was really hungry right then.
When the manager opened the gate, Paco entered with a leash and collar in his hands.
“The policeman says you’ll need to wear this,” he told me.
The leash was completely humiliating, yet I knew it was the only way we could get back on the road without further incident.
Once Paco led me around front, I couldn’t resist giggling when I saw our new car. It was a tiny, blue hatchback with racing stripes on the sides and a tail fin on the rear. I doubted it could go more than fifty miles per hour. It wasn’t roomy, either—all four of us would barely squeeze in.
Officer Corely was there to see us off. He’d brought the car, which his department had confiscated from a criminal. The good news was that it was free.
“You sure that’s a dog?” he asked. My giggles must’ve raised a red flag.
“What do you think he is?” asked Paco.
Officer Corely shrugged. “If I didn’t know better, I’d guess he’s a hyena. I watched my daughter’s movie last night, and that’s almost exactly how those hyenas sounded in The Lion King.”
“Really?” Paco and Manny blurted in fake surprise.
With a short laugh, Officer Corely said, “I wouldn’t worry about it, though. Hyenas are gray with black spots, not that brownish-yellow color.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. Whoever made The Lion King had screwed up our appearance, and for the moment that was perfectly fine.
Officer Corely stretched his hand to Paco for a shake. “I’m real sorry for what happened last night, but we’ll keep searching for your van.”
Shrugging his shoulders, Paco said, “I probably needed a new car anyway. Thank you for finding this.”
I clambered in through the hatchback, which opened like a giant mouth. The trunk was so small that I could hardly breathe and certainly couldn’t turn around.
Manny asked his mother a few questions. Finally, she nodded—tossing a glance and a smile in my direction—and Manny leaned back in his seat.
“We’ll get some clothes in the next town we pass through,” he told me.
“Thank goodness,” I said.
After a slight pause, Manny added, “There is one problem, though.”
“What’s that?”
“Clothes are going to use up our food budget, so once we get hungry, we’ll have to hunt.”
“We?” I asked. “Hunt? What do you mean?”
“We’ll have to bring something down.”
Gulp.
Despite my hesitation, deep down, I felt the slightest thrill.
WE BOUGHT SOME CLOTHES BEFORE CROSSING INTO WEST Virginia, and this time around, they actually fit.
“Um … how far is it to Louisiana?” I asked while we twisted along a highway between green, tree-covered hills. Actually, they were more like mountains—part of the Appalachian chain, I later learned.
Manny passed the question up to Paco, who answered with a shrug. “Maybe fifteen hours? It depends on traffic.”
West Virginia passed by, and then came the other Virginia. Manny grew restless the farther we rode.
“Tengo hambre,” he finally whined to his mom. His stomach growled, and I knew he must be starving. His tone also matched mine when I wanted something to eat.
“Yo, también,” said his mother, nodding in agreement.
Oh no, I thought. They’ve got to be hungry, and we just entered Tennessee. According to what I remembered from geography, we weren’t very close to Louisiana. Whether we went into Arkansas and turned south or crossed Alabama and Mississippi, we had a ways to go yet.
The thought of hunting may have been a tiny bit appealing, but did I really want to grab an animal by the throat, hold it down, and squeeze its life out through my teeth—something I’d never actually done before?
No, I’d rather pass.
“You guys can hold out, can’t you?” I asked Manny. “It isn’t really that much farther. …” Okay, I knew I was lying, but I was eager to find a way—any way—of convincing them that their hunger could wait.
After exchanging a few words with Paco, Manny said, “It’s gonna be ten hours before we get to New Orleans. Maybe more.”
“That’s nothing,” I tried to insist.
Manny shot me a look.
Ugh. I knew what that meant. As soon as they had a chance, they were going to stop and kill some defenseless animal. For me, eating meat was fine, as long as the animals were already dead. Killing was the part I didn’t like. Most no-tails would probably agree with me—lots of them love hamburgers, but how many would be willing to slaughter and grind up a cow?
Moments later, Paco found a side road with a sign that read GREAT SMOKY MOUNTAINS NATIONAL PARK and pulled in.
“This is on my regular route,” he told us, “and they have lots of wild pigs in these woods.”
“Wild pigs?” I’d never heard
of such a thing.
“They’re also called wild boars,” said Manny. “They’re good eating, too.”
We pulled into a dense thicket of trees several miles later. Pines and oaks formed a high-reaching canopy over our heads, and the roadside was lined with so much underbrush that we easily found safe spots to undress. I laid my shirt and pants on a pair of low-lying bushes, not realizing they had thorns until it was too late. Darn.
“Vámonos,” called Manny’s mother.
“Let’s go,” Manny and Paco called to me.
There wasn’t time to work my clothes free from those tiny hooks on the branches; I could only ensure that my socks and underwear wouldn’t suffer the same fate. I stashed them under a log, where they’d probably fill with insects, but at least I could shake them out when I got back to human form. Shifting into a hyena, I bolted off after the others.
Paco led us deep into the forest, since his coyote nose was the strongest. We followed a game trail that was well traveled by animals and clearly somewhere no-tails rarely went. First, we scampered up a ways, trotting over pine needles and damp leaves, then curved along the side of a stony hill and headed downhill. When we crossed a stream with a muddy bottom, I saw footprints lining both sides in silt.
“That’s what we’re looking for,” Manny growled. In the deep forest, a jaguar like him couldn’t be more at home.
I peered at the tracks, noting that they looked like deer prints, except they were three times bigger and had extra toes on the sides. The scent of pork was in the air, so they must’ve come from a wild boar.
“How big do wild pigs get?” I whispered.
Manny’s jaguar lips pulled into a wicked grin. “Ever hear of Hogzilla? It weighed more than eight hundred pounds.”
“That big?” I tried not to sound frightened, although that might’ve been more than all of us put together. And pigs weren’t known for being nice—I’d read that somewhere.
Paco lowered his nostrils to the ground. He sniffed and then tore along the trail.
Here we go. There was no escaping what was about to happen.
I was going to hunt. For the first time in my life.
Keeping behind the jaguars, I followed Paco’s barks, and it wasn’t long before I heard a grunt and a squeal. Something went crashing through the underbrush, and I watched small trees snap and sway wherever the beast tore past.
The jaguars split off, one to the left, one to the right, and leaped through dense vegetation. Since nobody told me where to go, I tried to follow Manny, except he was an expert at running through bushes and vines. I wasn’t. The canopy overhead had opened, and sunlight reached down, which meant that ground-level plants grew thicker and thicker. Less than a minute passed before I lost Manny, and then I ran face-first into a dead tree. It came out of nowhere, right after I’d charged around a cluster of bushes. The impact knocked me senseless.
That’s when I saw it. The pig came barreling toward my position. I didn’t hear Paco’s barks, I didn’t hear the jaguars’ roars—all I heard was an earsplitting shriek. The pig crossed a mossy clearing, where beams of sunlight stood like pillars to the sky.
It must’ve weighed five hundred pounds, and had curled tusks and beady eyes that I could’ve sworn glowed red. Its skin was brown, its fur was spiky, and it did not hesitate when it spotted me. This pig was out for blood.
My blood.
What could I do?
Nothing. I was trapped. Behind me was that tangle of bushes and vines I’d never be able to penetrate.
The pig continued its charge.
I was doomed.
Then, all of a sudden, a fire surged within me. The tiny thrill I’d felt suddenly exploded and erased my fear. I wasn’t going to be intimidated by some stupid pig, was I?
No, I was going to attack.
Less than fifty feet away, the pig let out another scream, except I refused to back down. Not this time. In response to its challenge, I lowered my head and scampered forward with my proudest hyena whoop.
The pig stopped in its tracks, skidding to a halt. It tried to change direction so quickly, in fact, that it couldn’t stop the momentum and wound up tumbling over itself.
With thoughts of ham and bacon and pork chops racing through my mind, I sprinted forward and let out another whoop. I’d never realized how fast pigs could move; this one was on its feet before I could get much closer. Still, I ran quicker. The boar’s hindquarters were exposed while it galloped away from me, and once I got close enough, I sunk my teeth into the back of its left thigh.
With another shriek, the pig stumbled and swung its head in my direction, slashing those monstrous tusks. I tried to dodge but couldn’t while maintaining my grip. So I let go, releasing the thigh and tumbling into the moss.
A spotted blur zipped past me, roared, and leaped on the pig’s back. While I spat bristles from my mouth, I watched Manny pull the pig down with his muscular limbs. His mother leaped next to him, clamped her jaws behind the pig’s head, and bit down hard.
Seconds later, it was all over. Manny’s mom ended the pig’s life with a sickening crunch of bone. The pig’s legs, which were sprawled out in four different directions, twitched a few times, then everything was calm. That’s about the point I snapped back to my senses and realized what I’d done. Truth was, I’d never killed anything. Even when a fly got in our house, I always made sure to coax it out the door. And while I hadn’t done the actual killing this time around, I certainly took part.
Was it the wrong thing to do? Probably. But then again, didn’t jaguars and coyotes have to eat? Even scavengers like me needed meat and usually got it from predators’ kills.
“That’s enough food for a whole week,” Paco said, flashing a canine smile.
After Manny hopped down from the pig’s carcass, his mother flicked a paw toward us and said, “Vengan a comer.”
“She wants you to eat,” said Manny.
Hunger pushed me to join in; I couldn’t really resist. And that fresh meat actually tasted good—better than anything I’d ever eaten. Hunting might not be such a bad idea, I actually dared to think. Once I found my family, I’d have to suggest that we try it sometime.
Of course, I should’ve guessed that our activity would attract attention.
“Whatcha got there, fellas?” drawled a voice.
We’d been lounging after our feast, but everyone’s head snapped up instantly. Standing at the edge of the clearing were two black bears, one right behind the other.
“What’s it to you?” Manny asked through a snarl. Clearly, the surprise visit had unnerved him.
“Well,” said the first bear, “we don’t exactly take kindly to folks huntin’ on our land.”
“Your land?” Manny shot back. “Says who?”
“Says us,” said another bear that suddenly burst from the vegetation. A dozen more like him followed.
Uh oh, I thought. This meant trouble.
Manny rose on his four paws and stretched, confident as ever. His mother appeared equally fearless, although Paco didn’t seem quite so sure. His tail lowered, as if he might be ready to tuck it between his legs and bolt. He’d already had problems with bears, I remembered, and I knew from Vermont that bears were better left alone. Not even wolves would dare cross them; bears had a nasty reputation.
A giggle escaped from my mouth.
“Somethin’ funny, boy?” the first bear growled.
“Um … no.” My eyes dove to the bloody dirt at my feet. The worst thing you could do was look a bear in the eyes—they took it as a sign of disrespect.
“Sounds to me like you was laughin’,” another bear said.
“Look,” I said, my gaze fixed downward, “we don’t want trouble, okay? Just let us go in peace.”
“Yeah, leave us alone,” Manny roared.
“Sounds like your friend has an attitude problem,” the first bear said.
“Him?” I glanced briefly up. “No, he’s just …” My mind raced for some way to explain.
“He’s just a solitary type, you know? He doesn’t relate to others real well.” I stared at the bear’s chest while speaking, watching muscles ripple under his fur.
“What are you, anyway?” asked the bear.
“Who?” I blabbered. “Me?”
“Yeah, you,” said a bear who’d come up from the side. In the time we’d been speaking, the bears had surrounded us.
What should I tell them? Make up some fearsome creature and hope they’d back off, or should I be honest?
“I’m a hyena,” I finally said.
The instant “hyena” slipped from my mouth, everything changed. Each bear stepped back.
“D-D-Did you just say ‘hyena’?” one of them stammered.
“Yeah,” I said. “Why?”
“We never seen one of y’all round these parts before. We just heard stories.”
“What do you know about us?” I asked.
The lead bear smirked. “Enough to know we’d better leave you be.”
“What do you mean?” asked Manny.
“It means we got more respect for a hyena than you danged leopards,” said a bear.
“We aren’t leopards,” snapped Manny.
The lead bear peered at me. “Are they with you?”
I nodded.
Raising a paw, he said, “Then, I guess we got no problem.”
“Where y’all headed?” asked another bear.
“Louisiana,” I said.
“New Orleans?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
That seemed to be what the first bear expected. He said, “Then how ’bout we carry this pig out and help y’all on your way?”
“Nah, we’re done with it.” I didn’t even want to think about eating right then. I was already too full. My heart was racing, my stomach roiling from the encounter.
The bear smiled, exposing a grin that lacked several teeth. “But I insist. We all gotta pay respects to Queen Ayaba, especially when one of y’all come round.”
“That’s right,” other bears agreed.
I nodded like I understood, even though I didn’t have a clue what they meant.
What the heck was going on?
AS IT TURNED OUT, THE BEARS HAD PLENTY OF STORIES about hyenas, and none were from The Lion King. No, these were tales of fierce predators—of a close-knit society of powerful warriors who dominated the south and feared nothing.
Earning My Spots Page 5