Lupus Rex

by John Carter Cash

  Puk was at the rear of the group to fend off any danger from behind. Ysil hated the thought of their flanks being exposed to the fox. He felt the fox’s eyes on him and kept glancing back, imagining hunger within them.

  “You need not get too far from the others now,” Ysil heard Puk say to Gomor, who had fallen behind. “Someone may eat you.”

  Ysil shivered. Gomor laughed uneasily. “Thanks for your consideration,” he said.

  Monroth had taken to walking beside Drac, and though the fox had cautioned him against it, he had continued to do so. “I want to be close should we need to protect Harlequin,” he said, looking back to see if she heard.

  Ysil glanced at Harlequin. Her feathers ruffled slightly and a light came to her eyes. Ysil grimaced.

  They had been moving all day and decided to stop in a small clearing, hoping to find some food. The foxes took to tearing apart an old dead tree stump, looking for grubs and ants. The rest pecked and foraged around the field for what greenery and seed they could find.

  Harlequin moved close to Ysil. He trembled.

  “What do you think, Ysil?” she asked. “Do you think we can trust them? Any at all?”

  “I think we can trust them to look out for their own needs,” said Ysil. “They must think there is something important in it for them to be with us. I don’t think it’s to put us in their bellies. Not right away, at least. If they just wanted to eat us, they would have tried by now.”

  “You’re right, and there are certainly dangers always about,” she said. “Have you ever been this far in the direction the sun rises before?”

  Ysil shook his head. “No, and neither have Cormo nor Gomor. I don’t know about Monroth—he has made a few journeys. For all I know, he may have been down this very trail with the foxes themselves.”

  “Do you really think so?” she asked with sudden interest. “Has he really taken such journeys?”

  “Oh, I don’t know, probably not this far,” said Ysil.

  Then the laughter started. It was all around the clearing.

  The laughter was familiar, and even before the furry masks appeared out of the bush Ysil knew who it was that was raising the ruckus: raccoons, pesky and noisome raccoons. Ysil, Cormo, and Harlequin moved together. Monroth immediately gathered in with them. He pushed into the middle. Ysil saw him shudder, and he pressed himself up beside Harlequin.

  “Ho! What is this?” called the one first into the clearing. Drac moved to face it straight on. “Are you foxes feeding your dinner to fatten it up before you feast? These are such tasty morsels, certainly!” Raccoon were hunters, for sure, but they ate mostly eggs, crawfish, and the occasional shrew. Ysil had never heard of a raccoon killing a live quail or a rabbit. Still, he didn’t like the sound of this coon’s voice.

  “Step back, coon,” said Puk, moving to Drac’s side. “These are under our care. They are on a great journey, and we will protect them to the river.”

  “Protect them?” another of the raccoons said, laughing. “From whom? I would make the wager that you foxes need more care yourselves.”

  “Hmm,” mumbled Drac under his breath. “It is best that you be on your way.”

  “What say, brothers?” said one raccoon. “What be best for us? Could be, fox, that we want those grubs you are into.”

  “Pass on, you masked trickster,” said Drac. “We know you are never in for a fight. Not unless you’re cornered. Be on your way.”

  Then the raccoons all laughed at once as if on cue and began running about the field. Ysil’s concern for the coon’s intentions dwindled when he heard the words of their song:

  What say dance?

  Shall we dance to the night?

  Shall I chomp on your tail with teeth sharp and white?

  What say laugh?

  Shall we laugh at the rain?

  Shall I bite on your ear while you yelp in pain?

  What say jump! (And with this the raccoons made a mighty leap into the air.)

  Shall we jump at the sun?

  Shall we gulp its fire up just for fun?

  What say sleep?

  You are so far from home.

  Take a good rest while we munch up your bones!

  While we munch up your bones!

  While we munch up your bones!

  While we munch up your bones!

  While we munch up . . .

  And singing their merry song, the raccoons skipped and bounded off into the woods, their song and laughter ringing through the golden leaves of the trees.

  Gomor turned to Ysil. “This is certainly turning out to be an interesting companionship with the foxes,” he whispered. “And quite a journey. Those raccoons wouldn’t have stopped us at all if the foxes had not been here.”

  “Pay no attention to the coons,” said Puk. “They are but clowns.” He had heard Gomor, though he was across the clearing.

  “What we may attract will be of no harm to you,” said Drac. “What we will fend off is of dire concern.”

  “You are right,” said Monroth. “Gomor, those raccoons are of no worry and I always knew it. Why, just last week I spent the afternoon with one at the spring. I helped him turn over rocks to find crawfish.”

  Cormo rolled his eyes and Ysil smiled back. Then he caught Monroth watching and saw the boastful bird had noted the exchange. Monroth scowled at Ysil but said nothing, though Ysil saw in Monroth’s eye at that moment something he had never seen before. He was used to the bird’s boasting and pride, but here was something dangerous and hateful.

  Monroth moved over next to Drac. “Let’s go,” he said to the fox.

  “As you wish, Master Quail,” said the fox with a toothy, ravenous grin.

  Chapter Ten

  The Bonds of Outcasts

  “THERE IS A thunder coming!” called Meeki the rebel scout. Sintus looked up from the mouse carcass he was eating and stared. “There is a thunder, and it is not from the clouds above but from the earth below!” The crow was frightfully agitated.

  “And this thunder,” said Sintus. “Is this thunder the sound of the earth shaking?”

  “No, my King,” said the crow. “It is the sound of many paws and the patter of tiny feet. My King, it is an army, and at its head is a great wolf.”

  Sintus immediately flew to a branch above and forgot the half-eaten mouse. The wolf! he thought. If there were a wolf coming this way with an army, it could mean only one thing:the wolf must be returning to claim what he considered to be his own—the field. Sintus felt the rush of coming destiny. If his band could join with the wolf, what power they would have! Sintus would claim his rightful place as King of the murder, with the wolf guardian of the wood and field. He called out, “You must away! We must welcome the wolf!”

  Darus immediately flew to his side.

  “But sire!” said Meeki. “This is no army to be greeting with open wings! They are an army that would eat a crow as soon as look upon them! There are coyotes in the number. And there are innumerable other snakes and lizards. And there is something else. Something dark and nearly as large as the wolf, a thing I do not know. The whole of them are coming with a mighty crashing as never heard before in this land! We must keep distance!”

  Sintus glared at the scout. “You must be the one to let the wolf know of the prince’s coming. You must greet the King and make him an offering.”

  “King!” called Meeki, finding a new fear. “And if I were to greet them, what gift could I give they could not take if they so chose?”

  “As my gracious servant you will make an offering of the goldenrod flower.”

  Meeki gulped. “But, my king! If I were to do so, they would surely kill me!”

  “Not at all,” said Sintus. “It would prove our intention to the wolf of our honor and our desire to join him. Meeki, your task is of the utmost importance! To bring a King an offering of the fall flower is tradition’s rule. There are many along the stream we passed just lately. Seek one out and take it to the wolf. He surely will not drink you
r blood with such an offering. The goldenrod means peace.” Sintus gave a sly look.

  “My King! Should we not go to them in force and circle above, calling our intention? Certainly we will be more effective as a group.”

  Sintus glowered at Meeki. “It is not for you to question my command. Go now before I take your query as treachery!”

  Meeki shuffled. “Yes, my King,” he stammered. And with that he was on wing and off upon his command.

  When he had flown away Darus turned to Sintus. He was well learned in the flower offerings and their meanings. “My King, the goldenrod is certainly an offering of peace, but it is also an offering of blood. The blood of the carrier.”

  “Yes, my devoted general,” said Sintus. “That is precisely my intention.”

  TORTRIX’S TAIL WAS wrapped lightly around Asmod’s neck. Most of the snake’s thick, scaly body was draped across the wolf’s back. Normally, he kept his triangle of a head facing backward to the score of animals that followed Asmod’s lead, training a careful eye on them all. He did not trust any of them. He had seen one of the other copperheads speaking to the king snakes and coyotes in hushed tones. He watched them with spiteful suspicion.

  They had come but a short distance from the cliff they had called home, but already more animals had joined them, a family of foxes among them. They moved across the land in a wave of devastation. Each mouse den they came to they broke apart and killed all that hid within. When they came upon the nest of a grouse, they found her chicks hiding, frozen with fear. She must have been close. Perhaps she even watched as the coyotes ate each small bird. The head of each was presented to the wolf, and he gulped them down lustfully.

  Tortrix heard it first: the caw of a single crow. It called out a continuous greeting. “My friend,” said the copperhead to the wolf. “It would ssseem we have a visitor on approach.”

  “Ah,” said Asmod. “I hear a crow, yes. An envoy from the field of home? Come to greet me?” He laughed. “Surely not.”

  They listened.

  “Peace!” called the crow in approach.

  Asmod and the others stopped and watched the approach of the bird.

  “Peace! Peace to you and an offering!” cried Meeki as he landed awkwardly at what he hoped to be a safe distance from the wolf’s jaws. Within his foot was clutched a golden flower. “I bring you greeting from Sintus, rightful heir to the throne of the Murder’s Tree.”

  “Heir?” asked Asmod. “And why is he not yet crowned King?”

  “He is near and will be coming shortly. I am but an envoy, a messenger,” said Meeki. “I am commanded to come and to make this offering. Surely he will tell you himself of the treasonable usurpations at the field, only yesterday.”

  Asmod showed his teeth. “And what might this offering be?”

  “I bring you the goldenrod flower! The sign of peace!” He carefully moved a bit closer to Asmod. Tortrix peeked out from behind the wolf’s ear. Meeki saw the snake and started.

  “And peace it shall be,” said Asmod. “Now, come close with the flower. You must lay it at my feet as is tradition.”

  Meeki quivered as fear gripped his heart. He stood firm. “Yes, great wolf,” he said, but remained standing in the same spot.

  “Now,” said Asmod quietly. “Do it now.”

  Meeki slowly moved before the wolf. And then, with as much courage as he could muster, he looked the great beast straight in the eye.

  “Again I say: lay it at my feet. Lay it at my feet and bow to me.”

  Meeki reached out his foot and set the flower down before the wolf. Then he bowed his head. With one swift motion Asmod opened his massive jaws and clasped them down around the crow’s upper body, and with one bite he removed the bird’s head, neck, and a portion of the torso. The wolf shook his head, and the remainder of the body flopped jerkily, and then lay still. One of the bobcats rushed in and grabbed it. Then Asmod began to chew hungrily, and after he had swallowed the crow he ate the goldenrod flower. The coyotes began to yelp and the foxes to bark. Not far away, Sintus and the rest of his band heard the animals calling.

  “Meeki has made his offering,” said Sintus. “Now let us go to the Wolf King.”

  Sintus and Darus flew in bravely and landed directly at the wolf’s feet, the other crows flying into the trees above. And the prince told the wolf of his being cast out of the field, and he allotted his number to the wolf’s aid, asking that the wolf join his quest likewise. The wolf smiled at the crow and did not eat him, not just yet.

  Asmod told Sintus of his destiny to be the King of the wood and guardian of the field, promising to establish the prince crow as King of the Murder’s Tree and that together they would rule, side by side. Sintus believed him. So the band of crows joined the army of predators and they moved on, together. And with them came the hell of destruction.

  Chapter Eleven

  A Whisper Within a Dream

  COTUR ADA WAS standing in the field with the wind moving his feathers softly. He was not old anymore. He was as full of life and wisdom as he ever was. Beside him stood old King Crow, who likewise was young and strong, his stance proving authority and strength. They were face-to-face, their eyes set on each other.

  “Your son must be King,” said old King Crow to Cotur Ada.

  “If my son is the King, numbers innumerable will die—not only my children but yours also,” said Cotur Ada.

  “This is the order. . .”

  Then Cotur Ada lowered his head and began to cry.

  Old King Crow sat down and closed his eyes.

  There was a ripple across the scene, and when the birds looked up again, they were old and worn. And old King Crow flew, and when he did his feathers burst apart, going in every direction, a winged skeleton departing to the sky.

  Cotur Ada leaned down to the ear of the young sleeping quail. Ysil heard the voice loudly within his ear. “Off with you, child,” the bird said. “Up and off with you. See what you will today. Do not sleep the day away, for not far away the true heart’s treachery of your brother quail is exposed. Up and off with you! Up and off with you! Up and off with you! Up and off wit—”

  YSIL AWOKE WITH a start. It was truly his grandfather’s voice that had awakened him, it had to be. He searched around for the source of it, for Cotur Ada. There was no way it could have been only a dream. But then he remembered the horrors of the afternoon on the previous day, and the memory covered him in a blanket of sadness. He felt hot tears rise to his eyes even as the words of Cotur Ada still echoed in his heart.

  He looked about the thick brush where they slept and saw that the sun was barely halfway across the sky. After the encounter with the raccoons, they had moved on down the trail until they found a huckleberry thicket and decided to take a rest. He had not expected to sleep for long but had done so, as had his fellow journeyers. He saw three other forms sleeping near. Harlequin and Cormo lay still; only their soft intake of breath betrayed their camouflaged forms’ existence. And there was Gomor, lying on his side in the warm sunlight as if merely resting, but Ysil knew him to be sound asleep. But where was Monroth? Where were the foxes? Then the words of his dream came back to him.

  Up and off with you. See what you will today!

  Ysil carefully moved out of the brush, making as little noise as possible, hoping not to awaken the others. He took to wing and flew to the tree above to get a better look around. From a good distance away he heard voices. He stealthily flew from one branch to the next, drawing closer so as to understand the voices.

  “Well, you have stayed true to your word!” It was Puk. “What a nest you have shown us!”

  “Yes,” said Monroth. “But be quick in your feast lest the others wake and find us here. They would not understand my leading you to such as these.”

  Ysil heard a high shrill squeak and knew immediately what Monroth was doing. He had led the foxes to a den of mice. This was a dark thing for a quail to do, unheard of. Quail and other prey were bound together by like needs and commo
n fear of predators. Monroth was breaking order. This was as great a sin as Ysil could think of. He wondered how Monroth had known of the den, then remembered his talk with Harlequin the day before. So Monroth had been this far. He must have traveled here often enough to learn where the mice nested.

  Ysil felt the sting of Monroth’s betrayal like the stab of a bodark thorn. He ducked his head and fell to the forest floor, barely fluttering his wings, fearful his flight could be heard by foxes’ wary ears. He ran a bit back toward where the others slept before he took wing, flying as quietly as possible from tree to tree.

  He settled to the ground and moved into the brush. Gomor was awake now, resting quietly. The others remained asleep.

  “Where have you been?” asked Gomor. “Where are Monroth and the foxes?”

  Ysil considered. He knew that if he were to tell of Monroth’s betrayal they would be forced to go on without him and the foxes. How would Harlequin take it? Could they make away before Monroth and the foxes came back? He had to think quickly. “I need to wake Cormo and Harlequin before I tell what I have seen of the foxes and Monroth,” said Ysil.

  Many visions flashed through his head as he reached his wing to Harlequin’s sleeping form. The voice of Cotur Ada seemed so real, so alive. But he had surely been dreaming. He checked his grandfather’s feather within his breast. It was still there, carefully tucked away.

  “Harlequin, Cormo, you must awake,” said Ysil. “We must immediately away. I have dire news to tell.”

  And so, quickly, Ysil told the others of what he had seen, and Harlequin cried but said little. He had feared she would not believe. But she had not questioned him, only wept as the three quail took wing. And with the burden of the knowledge of their friend’s betrayal heavy in their hearts, they flew in the direction of the rising sun, toward the river. They went fast down the trail, now staying within the branches above, forever looking back over their shoulders to check for pursuit. On the ground, Gomor the rabbit ran and did his best to keep up with the quail.