The Snowy

by Dave Schneider

  Don’t move, guys. Please don’t move! Sparky bit his lower lip.

  Abruptly, one of the beasts glared his way.

  Sparky ducked back. Did it see me? He shut his eyes. Then heard panting. It got louder.

  There was a grunt!

  Sparky gritted his teeth and pushed against the leaves with all his strength.

  Neff and Notch, crumpled in semi-darkness, pressed as hard as they could, the noise outside horrendous.

  Neff shuddered. I can’t stand this! She swallowed a scream. Just when she thought she would leap out of her skin, the yelping faded to whines, then to moans, then to whimpers.

  Notch grimaced. Are they getting ready to break in? His heart pounded.

  “Did they go?” squeaked Neff.

  “No, they’re breathing,” whispered Notch. “It’s like they’re playing possum.”

  “They want us to think they left?” she breathed.

  “Maybe. I don’t know. But, I’m not moving. What’s that smell?” He looked down. His hip was on the edge of a dark, squat, purple flower, as flat as a deflated soccer ball. Fine hairs spiraled inward from the flower’s edge, converging at the middle in a black knurl as big as a golf ball.

  “Smells like lavender,” said Neff, touching it.

  Then she and Notch heard a new sound.

  “Growling?” she asked.

  “Snoring?” breathed Notch. “Maybe they’re faking.”

  Sparky heard too. “Snoring,” he whispered. “No way. Got to check this out.” Hold it! Wait for Snowy. Oh come on, they’re asleep. He took his hand off the leaf. The leaf began to open. He touched it with his finger. It began to close. Fingertip control. He grabbed the left edge of the leaf, then leaned across to the right edge to peek out.

  Something licked the fingers of his left hand.

  “Ugh!” He pulled both hands away. The leaf began to open.

  A red eye appeared where his left hand had been, then quickly vanished. Suddenly, a claw grabbed the right edge of the leaf and pulled. A big, gruesome face peered in.

  Sparky shot a fist at the face. The beast drew back, only for a second. It shoved its arm through and clawed at Sparky. Sparky ducked. The beast wriggled in further.

  Sparky slapped the partially open leaf as hard as he could. The beast tried to pull back. The leaf snapped shut, squeezing the animal’s head and forearm. It clawed at the leaf, shaking its head, flinging saliva over Sparky. The leaf squeezed even tighter. The beast rolled its eyes once, then closed them, let out a snort and began to snore.

  Sparky stared into its face. The smell of saliva and rotten meat from its mouth mingled with the strong floral scent wafting from the purple circle at his knees made Sparky gag. Just don’t barf. He looked down. Fluid was oozing out of the purple circle.

  Is that stuff making this thing sleep? Sparky dipped his hand into the guck and lifted a blob to the beast’s nose. The animal flinched, snorted, then snored even louder.

  Snowy, two plants away, wedged his hands between two leaves and peeked out. The pack lay sleeping. He let go of the leaves. They fell open. He climbed out. He looked at the plant cradling Neff and Notch. Still closed. He looked at the plant that held Sparky. A beast was leaning on it, the head and arm inside.

  Snowy ran. “Sparky! Sparky?”

  “Yeah,” coughed Sparky, “I’m okay. Just slobbered on. It’s awful in here. Got to get out.”

  Snowy grabbed the beast by its hackles and neck and dropped it on its back. Its eyes opened slightly then shut again. It gurgled.

  “Come,” said Snowy.

  Sparky let go of the leaves. They flew open. The plant can’t wait either. He climbed out and took a deep breath. The creatures lay all about, eyes closed, snoring.

  “Neff, Notch?”

  “Safe,” said Snowy. “Tell them to come out. I make fangvaulters sleep more. Then we go.”

  “Fangvaulters? Awesome,” muttered Sparky. He stepped over the animal at his feet, turned around, lifted a vaulter with his foot, let it drop and headed for Neff and Notch.

  Snowy stuck a stick into some lavender goo and headed for the two black-ringed leaders slumped near each other against two trees, drooping eyes partially open.

  Sparky, Neff and Notch joined Snowy.

  “Fangvaulters not move without black-ring leaders. Must make sure asleep,” said Snowy, rubbing glop over their faces.

  The male went limp and slipped to the ground with a thud. The female sank slowly to one side. Both wheezed.

  “Something bring them over to here,” said Snowy, looking around.

  “Maybe that?” asked Neff, pointing to the tree above. “It’s...not sleeping.”

  Hidden in the branches crouched the smaller six-legged animal. It didn’t look like those on the ground. It was light tan with a narrow head. Its looked intensely at Neff. It was breathing rapidly.

  “It’s scared,” said Neff.

  “They had it on a rope,” said Sparky.

  “Sweet face,” said Neff.

  The animal reminded her of her llama. Full furry eyebrows, and thick, long eyelashes halfway covered his large, black eyes. Its ears were pointed back and down. Its nose was tan and black. Its teeth were almost like those of humans, with a smile.

  “Gift,” said Snowy.

  “Gift?” asked Neff.

  “This altivaulter. Not fangvaulter, like them,” he said, sweeping his hand at the sleeping animals. “Altivaulters live in mountains. Smart. Speak language. Use tools. Must take it with us.” Snowy’s skin turned tan to match the altivaulter. He extended his hand. The altivaulter gazed at it, then at Sparky, at Neff and at Notch.

  Great. Notch, glanced quickly around. We have to wait until it feels safe?

  “Maybe he doesn’t want to come,” said Sparky.

  “Shhh,” said Neff.

  The altivaulter began to climb down.

  Notch was antsy. What is he, a sloth? Come on.

  The altivaulter reached out. Snowy turned up his palm. The altitvaulter took his hand.

  “Young one,” said Snowy softly, helping the animal down and releasing its hand.

  The altivaulter turned toward the forest and paused, staring at Snowy.

  “He wants to bolt,” said Sparky.

  “Mm,” said Snowy, glancing at the dozing fangvaulters. He plucked two big globs of lavender ooze from the nearest plant, smeared them on the black-rings’ faces for good measure and entered the forest.

  “So long, fangers,” uttered Sparky, following.

  “Will they come after us?” asked Notch.

  “Female black-ring will stay to look for lost altivaulter. Male will wait for her,” said Snowy. “Will give us time.”

  At the next clearing, Snowy pointed to the three spires in the distance. “His home, there,” he said, looking at the young altivaulter, “Snoflian trading point other side.”

  They found a trail heading toward the peaks. They paused on the banks of some rapids.

  Snowy studied the banks, upstream and down. “Two Scavenids there, by river,” said Snowy.

  Sparky piped up. “Scavenids?”

  “Mm. I talk. Find out about Trappids. You take path. Meet there at rock. He pointed downstream at a massive red stone.

  “Can I come with you?” asked Sparky.

  “If okay with Neff, Notch.”

  “Sure. Why not,” said Notch.

  Snowy placed the altivaulter’s hand in Neff’s. “Talk him,” he said and set off along the riverbank, Sparky on his heels.

  “Hello,” said Neff.

  “Lo,” mumbled the altivaulter, its big, curious eyes staring at her under its long lashes.

  “Did he just say what I think he said?” she asked.

  Notch looked at her briefly and shrugged. He hadn’t heard. He had been estimati
ng the distance to the rock, where they were to meet up with Snowy and Sparky.

  The altivaulter tugged at Neff.

  “He seems eager to go,” she said.

  “Maybe we should,” said Notch, peering into the foliage. “He might know something we don’t.”

  CHAPTER 21

  Jung Gets His Name

  SPARKY TRAILED SNOWY down the riverbank. Two thin, gray-skinned Scavenids saw them approach. The shorter one hid behind the taller. Snowy spoke in a soft, squeaky language. Sparky stood next to him, listening wide-eyed. The shorter one peeked out from behind the taller. Sparky nodded. The shorter one cringed, pulled back and stared at the ground.

  Meanwhile, Neff, Notch and the altivaulter headed for the trail, the animal glancing back and forth between the two as they spoke.

  “He doesn’t miss a word,” said Neff, still holding the altivaulter’s hand.

  “Maybe we should give him a name,” said Notch.

  “Yes, let’s,” she said, as the altivaulter tugged her along. “I have an idea,” she said, looking back at Notch. “Let’s call him Jung?”

  “Because Snowy said he is?”

  “I don’t mean y-o-u-n-g. I mean J-u-n-g.”

  “Weird way to spell young,” said Notch.

  “It’s not an adjective. It’s a name,” she said, arm stretched, lurching past a boulder.

  “Whose name?” asked Notch, keeping up.

  “Carl Jung—J-u-n-g—the famous psychologist. Jung just sounds better than Freud—Sigmund Freud—another psychologist.”

  “But why name him after a psychologist?” asked Notch, pushing a branch aside. “Because your grandfather’s one?”

  “No. Because my grandfather says if you want to learn what makes people tick, pretend you’re from another planet and you know nothing at all about how they act, or how they think. All you can do is watch and listen.” She looked at the altivaulter. “Well, we’re from another planet and he’s doing that, with us. So I thought of Jung.”

  Notch pondered Neff’s logic for a moment then said, “Okay. I guess Jung makes more sense than Freud.”

  “That’s what my grandfather says,” said Neff, ducking under a limb, behind the altivaulter.

  “I mean as a name,” said Notch, also ducking.

  “That too.”

  “Ooookay!” replied Notch, scratching his head.

  They reached the trail. The newly named Jung pulled Neff aside and motioned to Notch to take the lead.

  Notch stepped past her. “Looks like he’s in charge.”

  Neff followed Notch. Jung took up the rear.

  Smiles just like my llama. Neff glanced back at Jung then up into the trees. They were alive with squawks, twitters and screeches. “Noisy,” she whispered. Suddenly, the birds went silent.

  Jung tapped her shoulder. She turned. He stared back down the trail.

  “Notch?” she said, softly.

  Notch paused, “What...?”

  Suddenly, Jung pushed Neff and Notch into the ferns and scampered back to the last bend. A moment later, he bolted out of sight.

  Neff and Notch, crouching, heard a loud “Brraaww.”

  “No,” said Neff, starting to get up.

  “Wait,” said Notch, pulling her down.

  Suddenly a rhinoceros-like beast came lumbering into sight, bellowing and bucking its huge, dirty pink head.

  “Jung’s on its back!” shouted Neff.

  Jung was straddling the beast’s neck with his vaulters, trying to grab the animal’s bouncing left ear. He finally got hold and pulled. The beast turned around, facing the way it had come. Jung leapt off.

  The beast stood still, snorting.

  Jung hopped once and smacked the beast in its big rear end with his vaulters. The animal twitched then trotted away.

  Neff gaped. “And we’re supposed to take care of him?”

  Notch nodded, wordless for a moment then said, “No question who’s in charge.”

  Jung rejoined them, gesturing to move on. They did as he asked. Jung followed again, glancing behind.

  Neff noticed. “Notch, he keeps looking back. You think that thing might be coming after us?”

  “Maybe,” replied Notch. “That or something else.”

  CHAPTER 22

  Chased!

  JUNG PUSHED NEFF IN THE BACK.

  “Ooff. What…?” she said, turning.

  Jung threatened to push her again.

  “Notch, I think he wants us to run.”

  Notch glanced back then took off, Neff on his heels.

  As Neff rounded the next bend, she looked back. Two squat hominids, dressed in animal skins, ropes wrapped in figure eights over their shoulders, were running after her.

  “Oh no. Go Notch. Go, go, go,” she shouted, pushing.

  “What?” he yelled, sprinting ahead.

  “Trappids,” she puffed, “I think. With ropes.”

  Halfway to the next bend, Jung slid to a stop, spun, crouched on his vaulters and bared his teeth at the oncoming Trappids. The smaller one, in the lead, stopped cold. The larger smacked into him, knocked him down and sprawled past him.

  As the two scrambled to their feet, Jung took off after Neff and Notch. The Trappids followed, adjusting their ropes as they ran.

  Jung had just cought up with Neff and Notch, when, suddenly, he jumped from the trail and rolled. He looked up to see Notch trip over a rope that had been hidden in the leaves. He saw Neff fall on Notch, then watched a net drop, its heavy, red webbing pushing the two flat on their stomachs.

  Jung hopped up, scrambled forward and tried to lift the net, then glanced up and jumped away. Another net dropped. Both nets were weighted by rocks in rope baskets. Jung looked back at the approaching Trappids, then at Notch and Neff, and vaulted away along the trail ahead.

  “Neff?” shouted Notch.

  “Notch?” she cried. Her face was turned away from Notch. She tried to lift her head. The webbing was too heavy. She dragged her nose and mouth through the dirt and leaves to see him.“Where’s Jung?” she rasped, spitting out a piece of leaf.

  “He tried to help,” wheezed Notch, “but the net was too heavy. He left.”

  Neff fell silent. He left? She felt betrayed. She stared at Notch. She couldn’t see the Trappids.

  Notch could. “They’re coming,” he muttered, “with knives!”

  “No,” she groaned.

  Notch watched the Trappids. Short legs. Strong, wide bodies. Big hands. Green skin. Blotches. Long ears, tiny noses and little eyes, close together. Sour mouths...like they just drank spoiled milk. Like Snowy said.

  “Be cool, Neff,” he whispered. “They only capture.” I hope. “Act injured. Pretend we can’t walk.”

  “If we can’t walk, maybe they’ll...kill us.”

  “Okay, okay. Then limp.”

  The Trappids approached carefully, their knives drawn. When they saw Neff and Notch pinned down, they sheathed their blades and jabbered excitedly about the weird-looking captives. The smaller Trappid nudged Notch with its foot.

  “Knock it off vinegar face!” hissed Notch.

  I cannot be captured, Neff screamed in silence. Who knows what they’ll do?

  The two Trappids reached through the webbing, tied Notch and Neff’s hands, then dumped the rock weights from the baskets. The larger Trappid lifted the nets. The smaller one dragged Notch out by his arm, snagging Notch’s backpack and wrenching his shoulder.

  “Ow. Hey,” shouted Notch.

  The Trappid yanked Notch to his feet, pushed him off the trail and shoved him to his knees.

  “Cut it out, you jerk! You wrecked my arm.” He grabbed it and winced. “I’ll never use it again!” Nice touch, Notch.

  The Trappid put a knife to his throat.

  “Okay, okay.
So I overdid it. Give me a break.”

  The Trappid nicked Notch’s neck and turned his attention to Neff. The larger Trappid lifted the nets again. The smaller one reached under, and pulled Neff out by the ankle.

  “Ow! Stop. Please!” she begged.

  He pulled harder.

  “Ow, ow, ow,” she cried. She slid free. “Creep!”

  He pulled her to her feet and shoved her towards Notch. She limped. He pushed her to her knees.

  The bigger Trappid suddenly laced into the smaller one.

  “Big is blaming Little for your limp and my bad shoulder,” muttered Notch. “Seems they won’t get as much for us.”

  Abruptly, Little shoved Big. Big swung and missed.

  As they grappled, Snowy came barreling around the bend ahead, roaring.

  Jung was behind him, screeching.

  Sparky followed, shouting, “Beat it. Scram.” What if they don’t?

  The struggling Trappids pushed away from each other, scrambled back down the trail a short way, pulled out their knives and crouched, expecting their pursuers to pause at the net, which they did. The Trappids began to tiptoe towards the four, knives extended. Snowy stretched up to his full height and glared. The Trappids stopped.

  Jung and Sparky untied Neff and Notch.

  Snowy pointed a finger over the Trappids’ heads. They glanced behind, then glared at Snowy.

  The larger Trappid pointed his knife at Snowy, then turned and walked away, followed by the smaller one. When the two reached the bend, they began to run.

  “Quickly. Back to rock,” said Snowy. “More will come now.”

  Snowy led them single file down the trail, Jung in the rear, continually glancing back. When they got to the rock, Snowy stopped and sat on his heels.

  “Shouldn’t we keep going?” asked Sparky.

  Snowy nodded. “But not yet. Trail splits ahead. Must hide. See which way Trappids go. Then we go other.” He looked at the young altivaulter. “He came to get help.”