“A monster?”
“Yeah. They’re all running around talking about a monster. Apparently, it’s not safe to be outside the village walls after nightfall.”
“I wonder what kind of creature this so-called monster is? Pleistocene Era megafauna were huge. It could be lots of things. What predator would hunt at night and have a taste for sloth?” mused Ivy. She lay down in the snow again and began absently licking one of the hut’s supports. While Angus watched, the dire wolf began gnawing on it.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Hmmm? I haven’t eaten all day.”
“You’re chewing on my house,” said Angus.
“I am?” Ivy stopped mid-lick. “It’s delicious.”
“My house is delicious. That’s new,” said Angus.
“Well, it tastes like bones.”
Angus looked at the hut. He reached out and touched one of the curved posts. It was smooth and hard and tapered to a point at the rooftop. “The architecture is interesting,” he began.
Ivy snorted through her long wolf snout. “Architecture. Yeah, right. I call it dinner.”
“What do you mean?” asked Angus.
“Your house is built of mammoth bones. Ribs, probably.”
“It is?” Angus was astonished and looked more closely at the structure. “It is! That is too cool!”
“And they’ve wrapped the bones with mammoth fur. It looks like a yurt. You know, those tents the nomads used in Mongolia?” Ivy explained. “It smells fantastic and tastes even better.”
“Yeah, well, you can’t go around eating people’s houses. It’s pretty rude.”
“The fence around the village is made of bones, too,” remarked Ivy.
“I don’t recommend you have that for dinner either. Maybe there’s something inside you can eat,” said Angus.
At that moment the curtain of the hut swung open and Bonnie peered out. The firelight illuminated the snow, Angus, and the enormous dire wolf standing just beyond the doorway. Ivy raised her hackles and snarled. Angus spun around, saw the dinner plate eyes of the little girl, and braced himself for a piercing shriek.
Chapter Eight: The Fever and the Feline
Gus heard the voices before he saw the faces.
“Feel his forehead. He’s burning up.” Mother’s voice.
“Of course he’s hot. He’s wearing a fur coat.” Father’s voice.
“Can I have his hat? It’s a dead rodent. Too awesome.” Billy’s voice.
“Look, he’s coming around.” Mother’s voice.
Gus scanned the faces peering down at him. Mother, forehead wrinkled with concern. Billy, grin twisting his mouth. Father. Father!
“Father!” said Gus. “You’re back!” He threw his arms around a very surprised Mr. Clark.
“Whoa, easy there. You’re cutting off all circulation to my brain.” Mr. Clark hugged him back.
“How was the hunt? Can I go with you next time? I’ll almost be old enough, and I’ve been practicing my throwing skills. Where’s my spear? I’ll show you.”
Gus scanned the room he was in. It was unlike any hut he’d ever seen. Light streamed in through clear walls. He could actually see trees and flowers outside through the walls. He was resting on a plush, cushiony pallet raised off the floor. The floor was covered in something resembling fur. Gus wondered what this place was. Was he still dying?
“Yes, young man. I wanted to ask you about that spear. Did you build that in your lab? You know how I feel about weapons,” said Mrs. Clark.
Gus looked at Mr. and Mrs. Clark and asked, “Am I dying?”
“Dying?” spluttered Mr. Clark.
“I told you he’s ill. He has a fever. I’m putting him to bed,” said Mrs. Clark.
Gus wobbled to his feet. “Where’s Bonnie?”
“Who’s Bonnie?” Mr. Clark asked Billy.
The boy shrugged. “Beats me. I don’t know any Bonnies.”
“None of the girls at school?”
Billy shook his head in the negative.
“Mother, where is she? Is she still up there? Alone?” Gus grabbed Mrs. Clark’s arm.
“Honey, we don’t know who you’re talking about. Is this ‘Bonnie’ a new friend?”
Gus stared at her. “Bonnie! My sister! Your daughter! She was with me on the plateau. She’s still there!”
Mrs. Clark and Mr. Clark exchanged glances. Mrs. Clark touched Gus’s forehead gently, smoothing back his shaggy hair. “Sweetie, I think you’re coming down with something. Why don’t you head upstairs to your room and rest a while? I’ll bring you a nice hot cup of tea.”
“Rest? How can I rest knowing Bonnie’s all alone, and you don’t care? I have to find her!” Gus turned around looking for a way to get out of the very large and confusing hut.
Billy strode to a tall wooden object built into the wall and gripped a shiny ball protruding from it. “Where did you last see Bonnie?” he asked.
“We were in the forest by the plateau. We watched the monster leave its lair. I thought I could hide while it was away, mount a surprise attack when it returned. I was on the plateau when—I don’t remember what happened after that. I had a strange dream. Now I’m here in this hut. When did you build this, Father?” Gus sat down suddenly and cradled his head in his hands. His temples were throbbing and he thought he might faint again.
Mrs. Clark sat down beside him and stroked his head. “We need to get you to bed, darling.”
“But Bonnie …”
“I’ll find her,” said Billy. He walked through the door.
“He fell asleep ranting about this ‘Bonnie’,” said Mrs. Clark cradling a cup of tea. “His temperature was 103 degrees. Do you know, he wouldn’t let me put the thermometer in his ear. Claimed he didn’t know what it was. Asked was I going to stick it all the way into his brain.”
Mr. Clark chuckled.
“It’s not funny! I threatened him I’d stick the baby thermometer in his behind if he didn’t cooperate!”
“I’ll bet he begged for the ear thermometer!”
“Good thing, too. I don’t have a baby thermometer. The medicine should help bring his fever down. You know, I’m worried about him. He’s been strange lately.”
“I’m telling you, he doesn’t have a fever. He was wearing a fur coat and boots in 60 degree weather. Did you see those pants? They were genius!”
“Where ever did he find that costume? I haven’t taken him shopping. And that spear? That could have done some serious damage.”
“He’s a resourceful kid.”
“Yes, but this is extreme, even for him.” Mrs. Clark sipped her tea. “I’m glad Billy was there and had a cell phone. Imagine!”
“So do you think we’ve seen the last of his other character? That pirate, what was his name?” asked Mr. Clark.
“Oh, I don’t remember. Something vulgar.” She put her empty cup in the sink. “He exhausts me.”
“Yes. Me, too,” agreed Mr. Clark. “But it sure is a great ride, isn’t it?”
Sir Schnortle didn’t like visitors, especially not that loud, bouncy one who followed his boy around. He had heard the voices and vanished as quickly as his chubby body had allowed into his secret place in the entertainment cabinet. There was a small eye hole in the pine door where a knot had fallen out. His peeping hole was ideally located at a height that allowed him to recline comfortably. He needed only to open one lazy eye to see the entire living room.
The feline had taken a little nap until things calmed down. He awoke to the talking sounds of the man and the woman in the kitchen. He peeked his head out of his hiding space. The room was empty. Making sure not to be seen, he padded softly up the stairs. He listened to the gentle snoring of his boy in the darkened bedroom. He poked his head into the small opening and nudged with his shoulder to open it far enough for his stomach and the rest of his body to squeeze through.
Sir Schnortle inhaled languorously. Ahhhh! The aroma of dead meat. He leapt ungracefully to the fo
ot of the boy’s bed and lumbered slowly across his chest. He touched his nose to the boy’s. The boy raised a sleeping hand and wiped at a phantom tickle. Sir Schnortle backed away and jumped to the floor. Still not his boy, but at least this one smelled better than that last one.
The source of the enticing scent lay crumpled in the corner of the room. The cat licked his chops, and then grabbed a mouthful of the sloth skin and tugged. He flexed his shoulder muscles and pulled. He stopped, got a better grip, and dragged the skin across the room. He dropped the skin, sat down, and casually gave himself a bath. Then he stood again and pulled it toward the open doorway. Just as he reached his destination, the skin snagged on the doorstop. Sir Schnortle batted at it with his paw. The doorstop twanged and gripped the skin more tightly. The frustrated feline emitted a low hiss, but the doorstop did not respond.
Sir Schnortle sighed. All this exercise had left him in desperate need of a nap. He climbed on to the bunched up fur coat, kneaded it into a comfortable nest, and promptly fell asleep purring.
Chapter Nine: Petting Zoo
“Whoa,” breathed the tiny girl.
“It’s okay, Bonnie. She’s my friend. Look,” Angus reached behind to pat Ivy’s head but his hand connected with air. He turned, but Ivy had vanished.
Bonnie was gaping. “Why didn’t it eat you, Gussy? Mommy says the monsters eat children.”
“She won’t eat me, Bonnie. She’s not a monster. She’s my friend. I know it’s hard to understand, but no one can know she’s here. They would try to kill her. Do you understand? She won’t hurt any of us.”
Bonnie stared at him with wide eyes. “How can that monster be your friend?”
“She’s not a monster. She’s a dire wolf. Her name is Ivy.” Bonnie was listening intently. “Wolves are predators; they hunt and kill other animals to survive. Just like us. We’re predators, too. And Mother is right, you should be careful around wild animals. They can be dangerous. But this one is different.” He paused for a moment and then asked quietly, “Would you like to meet her?”
Bonnie nodded silently.
“I’ll see if she’ll come back, okay? Ivy, are you still here? Bonnie would like to meet you.”
The dire wolf crept out of the shadows. She sniffed the air and sat in the snow a few yards from Angus and Bonnie. Angus said, “Bonnie, this is my friend Ivy. Ivy, this is Bonnie.”
“Nice to meet you,” said Ivy.
Bonnie gasped. “It can talk! You can talk!”
Ivy lifted a back leg and casually scratched a flea behind her ear. “Of course I can talk. I can also do algebra, conjugate verbs in Latin, and identify medicinal and edible wild plants in the Pacific Northwest. If I had opposable thumbs, I could even knit you a pair of socks.” It was too dark for Ivy to see Angus roll his eyes.
“Wow, Gussy! Where did you find it?”
“Her,” growled Ivy. “Where did you find her. And I found him, not the other way around. I sniffed him out.” She wriggled her nose in the air. “And now I smell a reason to leave.”
The dire wolf clambered to her feet but before she could dash into the shadows, Bonnie had thrown her little arms around the wolf’s neck and straddled her like a horse.
“What are you doing!” barked Ivy. “I need to run, and fast! Angus! Get her off me!”
Angus rushed to Ivy’s side, but before he could remove Bonnie from the agitated wolf’s back, he heard a sound that made his blood freeze.
“Step back slowly, Gus. Bonnie, stay where you are. Don’t move a muscle. I don’t want to miss.”
Angus spun around to see Gus’s mother aiming a sharp arrow at Ivy. Ivy cowered and snarled. He shouted, “No!” and threw himself in front of the dire wolf. The arrow released from the bow string, winged harmlessly past Angus, Ivy, and Bonnie, and pierced the side of the hut.
“Gus!” yelled his mother. “What are you doing?”
Angus lay his hand on the dire wolf’s head. “This is Ivy, Mother. She won’t hurt Bonnie, or me, or you. She won’t hurt anyone in this village if you leave her alone.”
“I might hurt you if you don’t get your hand off my head,” Ivy growled softly so the armed adult wouldn’t hear.
“Sorry,” said Angus. “I was trying to make a point.”
Bonnie chimed in, “She’s our friend, Mommy. See, look how nice she is.” Her mother shouted “No!” but Bonnie bent forward and cuddled Ivy’s head. Ivy wagged her tail and whined happily.
“She’s a sweet little kid,” the dire wolf mumbled to Angus.
“She’s a nuisance, if you ask me,” Angus muttered back.
Alerted by the loud voices, other armed humans had arrived. Mothers shoved their curious children behind them and stood beside Bonnie’s mother, spears and bows at the ready, waiting to unleash their protective fury on the large dire wolf as soon as Bonnie and Angus moved out of the way.
“Everyone stop!” commanded Angus spreading his arms wide. “This is Ivy. She is my friend. She will not harm anyone!”
Ivy trembled beside him, too afraid to attempt escape. Bonnie climbed off her back and stood defensively by Angus. She balled up her tiny fists and took a pugnacious stance, her face scrunched aggressively.
“Dire wolves are blood-thirsty killers!” yelled a rotund woman with a spear tucked under one arm and a squirming boy under the other.
“They’re wily pack hunters. Where there’s one, there are bound to be more,” added a skinny, anxious woman.
Angus muttered to Ivy under his breath, “Did you see any others?”
“I snuck away from them back on the hill. I don’t think any of them followed me,” answered Ivy softly.
“I hope they don’t come looking,” he mumbled. To the growing crowd he announced, “It’s just her. Just one. She’s my pet.”
“Pet? What’s a pet?” asked Bonnie pronouncing the new word carefully.
“You know, an animal that you live and play with. Like a cat or dog or goldfish. Though a goldfish is pretty boring, if you ask me,” explained Angus.
The confusion on Bonnie’s face was reflected on every other human face listening to him. “Doesn’t anyone here have a pet?” he asked.
“Are the beasts pets?” asked Ralph who had just arrived.
“You, I mean, we, eat the sloths and make clothes from their fur,” said Angus. “They aren’t pets. They’re more like livestock. You don’t eat or wear pets,” clarified Angus. “You mean to tell me that no one here owns a dog or a cat?”
All the human eyes regarded him blankly.
“What is the matter with your son?” the round woman asked Gus’s mother. Gus’s mother glared at the woman, an irritating neighbor who had been particularly aggravating lately, and stood defiantly beside Angus and Bonnie in front of the fierce predator who was quaking with fear.
“If Gus says this wolf is a harmless pet, then this wolf is a harmless pet.”
“Prove it,” challenged the annoying neighbor.
Gus’s mother questioned Angus with her eyes. His eyes met hers confidently and he nodded his head. She gulped. “I will prove it to all of you,” she declared. She turned to the dire wolf, wrapped her arms around its head, and closed her eyes calmly while the whimpering animal licked her meekly on the chin.
The crowd gasped and Ivy thumped her tail. “Let me try!” cried the plump boy clamped under the neighbor’s beefy arm. Another child ran to Ivy before his mother could catch him. He looked uncertainly at the wolf, jabbed her fur quickly, and ran back to the safety of the group. The crowd surged forward, lunging toward the dire wolf.
“Hold on now! One at a time!” ordered Angus. “Get in line!”
If he’d thought the villagers were frightening before when they faced his friend with spears, they were positively terrifying now when they were clamoring to touch her. With Bonnie showing the children how to gently stroke the pet and Gus’s mother keeping them in order, one after another of the villagers took turns petting the terrified wolf.
Eventuall
y, everyone in the village had satisfied his curiosity and was convinced that this dire wolf would not eat them. Mothers herded their children back to their huts. Some sentries dutifully returned to their posts while others sneaked off to bed. Gus’s mother exhaled loudly and slumped her shoulders.
“Bonnie, to bed,” she said wearily. “And you,” she pointed at Angus. “Be careful. I still don’t trust this mangy, flea-bitten beast, pet or no.”
Ivy’s ears drooped and she lowered her tail. She looked pleadingly at Angus. “Let me say goodnight to her, Mother,” said Angus.
“Make it quick. Dawn will be here soon and you need some rest.”
As soon as the heavy curtain of the yurt had closed on Bonnie and Mother, Ivy said, “That was completely humiliating.”
“I’m sorry, Ivy. I didn’t know what else to do. They would have hunted you down and killed you for sure.”
“At least that would have saved me from slow starvation. I still haven’t eaten. Maybe I could go chew on one of those stinky sloths.”
“I don’t think the humans would appreciate my pet stealing their livestock. And I don’t think my mom’s alter will let me feed you.”
“Not likely. After all, I’m just a mangy, flea-bitten beast,” snarled Ivy bitterly.
“Sorry, Ivy. She doesn’t realize you’re really a girl.” Angus looked at her sadly.
Ivy raised her snout to the sky and sniffed. “I can’t smell anything except human.” She loped away.
“Where are you going?” Angus called after her.
“To find some fresh air and breakfast. I’ll see you in the morning.” The dire wolf was gone.
Chapter Ten: Blood in the Snow
Angus tossed and turned on his pallet in the mammoth yurt. He slept in fits and starts. A mishmash of images he’d experienced over the past week ran through his mind. He saw giant sloths sailing a pirate ship, his father wearing a fur coat and trying to get reception for his cell phone in the crystal cave, and most disturbing of all, sharp spears piercing through Ivy’s tiny crow body.
The Crystal Lair (Inventor-in-Training) Page 5