“Uh . . . thanks?” Kit turned back to the class. “Anyone else?”
“I’m with you too, Kit!” said Fergus, hopping by Kit’s side. “We’ll give that coyote something to howl about!”
“We’re in too!” the moles declared.
“To danger!” Matteo the mouse shouted boldly, and scurried forward.
“To victory!” Dax darted over to Kit.
“Are you really going to let a bunch of kids fight the coyote?” one of the Liney sisters asked their teacher.
The fox took a deep breath and then recited a poem:
“Birds are safe in the nest,
but birds are born with wings.
Better to risk flying
than miss out on everything.”
“Uh . . . what?” said another sister. Rats were not known for their love of poetry. A snake could count the number of great rat poets on its fingers.
“He means you can play it safe, or you can live a little!” Fergus shouted at them.
“Eeni’s not going to be the only heroic rat tonight,” the third Liney sister said, and stepped forward to join them. “We’re with you!”
“We are?” said the other two.
“We are,” said the first.
Pretty soon, the whole class stood by Kit’s side.
As the bats flew in, Mr. Timinson looked at them proudly. “It seems you’ve got yourselves a brigade of your own,” he told them, beaming. He pointed up. “And look, the moon’s still out. I guess that makes you all the new Moonlight Brigade.”
“Yeah,” Kit said, smiling. He liked that. The new Moonlight Brigade. But then he looked up at the bats flying in. “The thing is, though, what we need is an air force.”
• • •
After Kit had explained his plan, the class flew away with the bats, headed for home. Mr. Timinson watched them disappear into the night sky with a happy gleam in his eye, but a worried wrinkle on his brow. A loud sound of chewing broke the late-night quiet.
“It worked just as we’d hoped,” the Rat King said.
“He figured it out,” Mr. Timinson agreed. “Asking for help can be the bravest thing of all.”
“They’re all brave,” the Rat King said, looming up behind the fox.
“I hope they’re all smart enough to balance their bravery with brains.”
“Bravery and brains are hard to keep in balance,” said the Rat King. “History is littered with the bones of folks who had too much of one, not enough of the other. But we believe they will be safe.”
Then, one voice spoke, alone in the horde. This was not the voice of the eternal Rat King, but one female voice, sweet and sad. “He’s with our daughter, after all,” the one rat said. “And she never lets her friends down.”
“So you do remember that she’s your daughter?” the fox replied.
The Rat King answered with a hundred voices once more, “We remember everything. It is our blessing and our curse.”
The fox looked to the cloud of bats wheeling and twirling through the dark sky on their way back to Ankle Snap Alley. The first blush of sunrise was spreading across the far horizon. The fox knew that Coyote and the Thunder River Rompers would not be far behind.
“Well,” the fox said with a sigh. “I have a feeling tonight will be a night none of us will forget.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
TRUST AMONG THIEVES
KIT waited alone in the dead center of Ankle Snap Alley, just as the sun was about to rise. He rubbed his eyes and plucked one of his whiskers from his snout to keep his sleepy brain focused. The quick pain woke him right up. Tired as he was, he’d need to his mind as sharp as his claws for the ordeal to come. Sharper, in fact.
All the other citizens of the alley hid behind their doors and deep in their holes. He thought he saw an eyeball peek through a crack in some shutters here, a nervous claw withdrawing behind an upturned box over there.
The tattered poster for the Dingbats’ comedy show still hung on the wall outside Enrique Gallo’s Fur Styling Shop and Barbería. Shredded ads for Cranston’s Claw Cream were littered across the ground, and the stage from the First Frost Festival had lost one of its support posts. It sagged sideways outside the boarded-up entrance to the great stone of the Reptile Bank and Trust.
Kit strolled to the stage and climbed up. No squirrel would again wield the Great Bear’s hammer in the saga of Ratatosk, nor would the strapping Peacock Players delight the ladybirds with their strutting. No one would not laugh at Declan’s jokes. The stage was ruined and so was the First Frost Festival.
But all was not lost.
Kit worried for his uncle Rik, held prisoner by the Thunder River Rompers, and he worried for the Old Boss Turtle, who was a cruel gangster, but still didn’t deserve to be kicked around and kidnapped. The turtle had done his best to protect the alley, as long as the alley had paid him to do it. Now that he’d failed, and failed badly, Kit figured the alley would need a new protector, or else they’d fall prey to every passing predator, from coyotes and otters to hawks and house pets.
Maybe I can take the job? Kit thought. No, he corrected himself. Maybe we can do it. All of us, together. Maybe we can protect one another, my friends and I. We are the Moonlight Brigade.
Suddenly, the hair on the back of Kit’s neck prickled. His ears twitched. He sniffed and caught the scent of feathers and blood—owl smells—and then the watery smell of the gang of otters, an overpowering aroma of salt water and fish guts.
Moments after the smells hit his nose, the Thunder River Rompers burst into the alley, streaming in from both directions, a flood of angry fur, the first glimmers of sunlight shining off their glasses.
The big one, Chuffing Chaz, had angry red welts all over his face and paws.
Wasp stings.
He glared at Kit with eyes burning bright as a blazing sun. He must have opened the snout surprises. He snapped his jaw at Kit, an otter gesture that was as rude as it was terrifying. The click of his fangs made Kit shudder, and he stepped back from the front of the stage where the otters had assembled.
Behind him, the three owl sisters swooped down, heads swiveling for signs of danger. Kit was surrounded on all sides now, otters in front and owls behind.
The owls screeched so sharply it made Kit’s eyeballs jump, but at their signal, Coyote stepped forward, and behind him, the Blacktail brothers, straining with all their strength, pushed the cart that held all of Ankle Snap Alley’s seeds and nuts in front of them.
Old Boss Turtle and Kit’s uncle Rik were tied together on an old skateboard that was strung to the back of the cart with rough wire netting of the sort People used to keep squirrels out of their gardens. While the wire could never hope to prevent the squirrels from digging up what they wanted, it had effectively bound the turtle and the raccoon beyond any hope of escape.
“Mrmrmrmrm,” Uncle Rik said when he saw Kit. He had a big stick shoved in his mouth, tied in place with a rusty bike chain. He couldn’t talk through it. The turtle was in the same position, although the stick and the chain were smaller.
“Well, Kit,” Coyote said, “my owls tell me you have had a busy night with your old friend Titus. I admire your pluck! Few Wild Ones have ever been inside a Flealess house, and fewer still have made it out again alive. The Blacktail brothers bet me you’d be taken by the Bagman. They lost that bet.”
Shane and Flynn grunted.
“I’ve still got the leash I used,” Kit said, holding up the leash and collar. “If you’d like to put it on like a good doggy?”
“Ha-ha!” Coyote laughed. “You are Slick of Tongue, indeed, son of Azban. Brave of Heart and Quick of Paw as well. You’ve got many qualities of the First Raccoon.”
“And I’m Afraid of None,” said Kit, trying to look defiant.
“The sun is peeking up into the sky, chasing your lovely mo
on away,” Coyote said. “It is time to honor our deal. I know you won a Dog’s Duel and I know you got your cans of food, and yet I don’t see them here. You wouldn’t be trying to trick old Coyote, would you? That’d be a sad song to sing, and I’d hate to have to change your tune for you.”
“I’ve got your cans of food,” said Kit. “But I’m not so crazy to have them sitting out where you could rob me again. I hid them. And I’ll tell you where they’re hidden, once I’ve got my uncle and Boss Turtle back. Then we’ll trade for the seeds and nuts. But I don’t make any trades when my family’s held prisoner.”
Coyote grinned. “Clever indeed.” He nodded his head toward Shane and Flynn Blacktail. “Set loose the hostages,” he grunted.
“It could be a trick!” Flynn Blacktail warned.
“You can’t trust a raccoon,” Shane Blacktail added.
“You two misunderstand our relationship,” Coyote growled at them. “I tell you what to do, not the other way around. Power, like water, flows downhill. And you are, as you will always be, below me. Now set the hostages free!”
Shane and Flynn, grumbling, untied Uncle Rik and Old Boss Turtle.
“Sorry about all this, Boss,” Shane said to the turtle.
“Don’t think we ain’t grateful for all you done for us,” Flynn added.
“We had to do what we had to do is all,” said Shane.
“I hope you can forgive us when this is over,” said Flynn.
“I will forgive you,” the old turtle told them. “Just as soon as I’m wearing your pelts for hats.”
The brothers looked at their old boss and then at each other as if they’d each swallowed a wasp.
The turtle trudged slowly toward Kit, while Uncle Rik, once freed, ran on all fours and embraced Kit in a lung-crushing hug.
“Oh, my boy!” he cried out. “I never thought I’d see you again! I’m so glad you’re okay! When they told me you’d accepted a Dog’s Duel, my heart nearly turned to tar. In all our history, only one raccoon has ever defeated a dog at their own duel.”
“I know,” said Kit. “I read all about it in your books.”
“You read my books?” Uncle Rik smiled. He seemed about as happy that his nephew had read a book as he did to be free from Coyote. His uncle was a strange and unpredictable creature, Kit decided. He was glad to have him back.
Happy tears streaked down the black fur of Uncle Rik’s cheeks, and he whispered in Kit’s ear, so quietly even the owls wouldn’t be able to hear it. “Let’s give this coyote his cans of food so he’ll get out of here and leave us be.”
“Oh, Uncle Rik,” Kit whispered while they hugged. “If we give him whatever he wants, he’ll just come back for more. He’s gotta learn he can’t steal from Ankle Snap Alley, once and for all.”
“Kit,” Uncle Rik gasped. “What have you done?”
“I’m making my mother proud,” Kit answered.
“Hey, you two!” Coyote yelled. “Enough hugging and chattering like chickens. You’ve got your hostages back, boy. Where are my cans?”
Kit whistled loudly, and his whistle was answered by the screech of bats in the sky.
“Look up,” said Kit.
A cloud of bats swarmed overhead in the red dawn sky, just like they normally would to pick up the school kids, except there were no kids waiting to go to school. All of the bats were carrying shining cans of food, wings flapping wildly with the weight they held.
Behind Kit, the owls ruffled their feathers, anxious to fly up and snatch a bat from the air. To an owl, a bat was merely a rat with wings, and the wings themselves were quite delicious.
“Have them put the food down on the stage, neatly stacked,” said Coyote.
“First show me the seeds,” said Kit.
“First stack the cans,” said the coyote.
“Seeds,” said Kit.
“Cans,” said Coyote.
“Seeds!” said Kit again.
“This is a real tail turner,” Coyote said. “You can’t get your seeds if I can’t get my cans.”
“Same’s true the other way,” said Kit.
“Give over the cans and I’ll give you the seeds. I promise,” said Coyote. “Howl to snap.”
“Don’t say those words,” Kit told him. “They mean something around here. They mean we may be no-good garbage-scrounging liars, but we’re loyal to one another, from the moment we come howling into this world until the final snap of the trap that takes us out. You wouldn’t understand loyalty like that if it bit you on the backside. You’re a loner. Even your gang only follows you because they’re afraid. They’re only as loyal as autumn leaves.”
“Be that as it may,” said Coyote, “I’ve got a gang, and you don’t.”
Coyote let out a sharp bark, and the three owls launched themselves into the bats. Almost immediately, the swarm closed in around them. One owl slashed at Declan with her talons, but he blocked with the metal can he was holding. The talon scraped through the colorful label, but couldn’t break the metal. The owl shrieked in pain, and four bats surrounded her, whacking her in the head with their cans.
The owls retreated, settling back down, bruised and angry, behind Kit.
“It’s no good,” one owl hooted.
“We’re outnumbered,” another said.
“Make your deal, Coyote,” said the third. “We won’t risk our beaks. We’ve not gotten the rats we were promised. The Rat King’s gone, and we’re going home. There is nothing but trouble for us in Ankle Snap Alley.”
“Grrr,” Coyote growled at them.
“Keep your grrr,” an owl mocked him. “You dogs bark and snarl, but owls know whhhen a bark is hollow as a rotten tree stump. Sisters! Away!”
The owls turned, flapped their mighty wings, and flew at full speed through the cloud of bats and away from the rising sun, toward the safety of their home across the river.
“You’ve lost your owls,” said Kit.
“But I’ve still got my teeth.” Coyote snapped at Kit, lowering his face so close to Kit’s that their noses nearly touched. “Give me my food, or I’ll gnaw your bones!”
“If you gnaw my bones,” said Kit, “you won’t ever get the good food that’s up there. Why eat raccoon when the Flealess food is so close? All you have to do is give me the seeds and nuts.”
“Give me the food first!” Coyote shouted.
“You still don’t trust me?” Kit asked, all innocence.
“You and I are both thieves, young Kit,” said Coyote. “There can be no trust among thieves.”
“If we can’t trust each other, we’ll be here all day . . . and pretty soon the People’s pets will start barking at us.”
“Let them bark!” Coyote laughed. “I’ve eaten more house pets than you’ve ever met in your entire life. I’m not afraid.”
“You don’t know much about the Flealess, do you?” Kit asked. “You know what happens when they start barking? Their People will look outside and what will they see? Not a fearsome gang, but a coyote and some otters who shouldn’t be here. And then they’ll call their Bagman. I can escape up a tree, but where will you go? Where will your otters go? They’re a long way from their river.”
The otters whispered and worried among themselves, not looking half so ferocious as before. There wasn’t a creature alive that didn’t fear the Bagman. This was the last bit of Kit’s gamble.
This was the Blowoff.
Coyote had to believe the story Kit was telling.
It helped that the story was true.
The sun rose higher, stretching its rays deep into the purple night and wiping away the stars. Morning was racing at them fast. Kit shivered as a brisk wind blasted against his fur.
“Fine,” Coyote grunted at last. “Blacktails! Unload the cart.” Shane and Flynn pushed the seed cart over toward Kit and began tossing the big sa
cks of stolen seeds and nuts onto the ground in front of him. It would be a mess figuring out who had lost what and how much. There would probably be a lot of fighting over it, but at least it would all be back where it belonged and all the creatures would survive another winter.
“Set them right there,” Kit ordered Shane and Flynn, pointing at the ground next to the Reptile Bank and Trust.
The Blacktail brothers grumbled but did as he’d asked. Coyote watched the sacks get set down, but he didn’t notice when Shane’s and Flynn’s thumb and foreclaws came together for an instant to form the symbol of the raccoons, and he didn’t see Kit return the gesture quickly. He was too busy looking at the cans circling in the sky again.
“Kit,” Coyote ordered. “Have those bats stack my cans on the cart or my boys will tear you and your uncle limb from limb. That’s our deal.”
Kit took a deep breath. “I’m guessing you don’t have many friends,” Kit said.
“What are you talking about?” Coyote snarled.
“If you knew what real friendship was,” Kit continued, “you’d be wondering right about now where my friends were. You saw me with them when you first came to town. You saw my friend Eeni try to protect me from you, but you aren’t even curious where she is?”
“Why should I care where a little white rat is?” Coyote asked. “Just give me what I came for or face my wrath!”
Kit shook his head. “You really should pay better attention. It’s the little details that make a good story, and a trick is just a really good story told to a rube.”
“I’m no rube, and you are—” Coyote began to object, but was cut off by Kit’s loud whistle.
At the command, the bats flipped the food cans they were carrying sideways, revealing their open tops and showing that inside there wasn’t a winter’s supply of tasty Flealess food, but rather mice and rats, a squirrel, some moles, and a frog, all of them little schoolchildren and all of them armed for battle with rubber-band slingshots loaded with matches and sharp pebbles for firing.
“Air assault ready!” Eeni declared with confidence. Kit looked up to his friend and gave her the raccoon salute with his fingers. She was in command just where she belonged.
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