The owl’s timing was perfect; its talons collided with Victor’s back just as the swing took him past the hole. Then swerving expertly, the owl once more returned to Velvet’s side, swivelled its head, so its ears could pick up the slightest of sounds below.
On landing, Victor knew he’d had a miraculous escape. Poking his head out of the hole, he watched the owl move towards Velvet and recognised with relief their appointed messenger. He felt a wave of gratitude at its timely arrival and a wave of irritation towards Velvet at his lack of expertise in the art of communication.
Victor shook himself out, stretched out his aching muscles, and not for the first time wished he had sent Velvet over the edge. At least, if Velvet had fallen, he was accustomed to the occasional soaking. However, he knew that Velvet would have taken an age to search the hole and spent even more time in getting there and back. Velvet’s slow pace and laid-back attitude irritated him at times.
On entering the hole, Victor’s stomach convulsed violently, the smell of decaying fish and damp was overpowering. Determined not to give up on this quest, Victor continued his search - the hole needed to be examined thoroughly.
As Victor meticulously searched inside the dark, dank lair, the owl enquired if there were any special messages that needed to be delivered. Velvet shrugged his shoulders, ‘Best to wait for Victor, he’s the one to ask, but so far we’ve found out nothing new and we’ve asked all sorts of animals. All their stories just mention the five Ds: death, debris, dirt and dark dust. It’s all getting a bit tiring actually.’
From below a vibration was felt travelling through the ground; Victor’s powerful legs drummed out a signal letting Velvet know his search had been completed. Velvet once more peered over the edge and could just make out the blurry form of Victor. He seemed to be very agitated, which Velvet thought was strange as nothing seemed to have flustered him before.
‘What’s up, Victor?’
‘Get me up!’ Victor shouted, ‘Primrose was here!’
‘How, I can’t lift you?’ Velvet replied, flabbergasted. Victor surely didn’t think he was capable of lifting him.
‘Well, I can’t very well stay here. She might come back.’
‘You could always fly,’ the owl suggested helpfully.
‘You trying to be funny,’ Victor snapped, being uncharacteristically rude.
Although Victor believed Primrose had only used this place once, he was still feeling extremely vulnerable. He looked at the mud slide and thought back to the day when he had considered it would be fun to slide down it. Now, as he looked down, he felt differently. The otters’ slipway was steeper than he had first thought and the river looked cold, deep and uninviting. He looked around, maybe there was another way up to Velvet, but he couldn’t see one.
Too many rocks, bushes and branches blocked Victor’s view. He was fast coming to the conclusion that he had no alternative, but to jump and take a swim for the first time in his life. He found this idea more than a little bit daunting. Hares were not born to swim!
The owl, on hearing no further instructions or pleas for help, took off to observe. After all, that had been its job once. It noticed Victor looking around frantically and giving quick nervous glances towards the river. Gliding smoothly alongside the river bank, the owl spied a possible route that Victor might be able to use.
‘Follow my flight path with your eyes,’ the owl called out to him, ‘there’s a ledge to your left. Can you see it?’
‘Not sure, can you hover just above it?’ Victor asked.
Victor watched the owl carefully and noticed the ledge was a boulder and a good jump away.
‘Bit of a jump,’ Victor answered, ‘might be able to do it.’
‘If you can’t, I can always give you another push!’ the owl responded with a small hoot of laughter.
‘At least you’ve given me a warning this time,’ Victor laughed back, his nerves calming down a bit, knowing he had an escape route that didn’t involve getting wet, ‘show me again where I have to land.’
Victor leaned backwards and prepared to launch himself forwards by using his hind legs as powerful springs. He watched the owl as it hovered above his soon-to-be landing spot, tensed and sprang suddenly with all his might.
As Victor flew towards his target, the owl soared quickly to get out of his way. Victor landed perfectly on his front legs, his hind legs following rapidly behind him; the impetus sent him head over heels into a gorse bush. He emerged slowly, a little embarrassed, shook out his ears, brushed himself down and glared in the direction of Velvet, who was laughing hysterically above him.
‘Told you, you could fly,’ the owl hooted wisely, as Victor followed a now visible trail up to the top of the river bank.
Once they were altogether, Velvet asked Victor what he had found in the otters’ hole and why he was so positive that Primrose had indeed hidden there.
‘Along with lots of smelly, rotten, decaying fish, I found this…’ Victor spat out a dirty, grey piece of material; which showed a glimpse of bright yellow.
‘This was hers!’ he announced importantly. ‘Everything at the back of that small hole was flattened, by that stone foot of hers. That’s where I found that piece of material. I also discovered a groove scratched into the floor, leading from the back of the cave to the opening. I reckon that was made by that foot of hers as well, always leaving an easy trail to follow. She definitely hid there, but where she is now, I’ve no idea.’
Victor turned towards the owl, their messenger, ‘Owl, can you find Jack and tell him our news? Trouble is, I don’t know where he is either. He’s looking for Primrose’s scarf, thinks he’s dropped it in the forest somewhere.’
The owl couldn’t believe its ears, that wonderful, amazing scarf, gone! How it would have loved to have possessed something as beautiful as that? The owl nearly took off immediately to search for it and keep it, if only it could be found. The owl would never have been so careless.
Velvet interrupted the bird’s thoughts. He had to ask the owl twice, as it had been so completely preoccupied with the thought of Primrose’s lost scarf.
‘What’s your name?’ Velvet repeated.
‘I’m an owl,’ the bird answered simply.
‘You must have a name. Are you a boy or a girl?’
The owl shrugged its shoulders and simply repeated, ‘I’m an owl.’
‘Who do you fly and play with?’ Velvet continued; he was full of curiosity about their new companion.
‘No one, I have no friends,’ the owl said miserably, then looked at both of them and asked eagerly and excitedly, ‘Will you be my friends?’
‘You’re working with us, so of course we’re your friends. And friends have to have names,’ Velvet exclaimed happily, ‘what name would you like?’
‘I like the name Eve,’ the owl replied shyly, ‘it will remind me of when I saw you first, in the eve…ning.’
Velvet giggled at the owl’s joke.
‘You must be a girl then, as Eve’s a girl’s name. So Eve it is!’ Velvet stated happily.
‘Don’t be ridiculous, Velvet,’ Victor remarked impatiently, with sarcasm, stamping his foot in annoyance. ‘Owl can’t be Eve. We’re looking for an Eve. I can just see us asking the next animal we meet, “Have you seen someone called Eve, we have lost her,” and they will say, “She’s standing there, next to you.” We will be the laughing stock of the forest and cause so much confusion. So she can’t be Eve or Lyn or…’ Victor stared sternly at both of them, ‘…or Evelyn either, understood?’
The owl looked disappointed, Velvet looked a trifle embarrassed; he thought he had been a little bit silly, and now he had also disappointed their new friend as well.
‘But we’ve got to call her something,’ he mumbled, ‘how about Dawn? That name can remind you when we took our first flight together and the start of our friendship,’ suggested
Velvet, now feeling much better.
Smiling happily and strutting proudly, Owl finally had a name and friends. Friends she had once spied on and been forced to tell the Summoner everything about. Perhaps that was something she should keep to herself. She did not want to lose her new friends as soon as she had found them.
The owl, or Dawn as she was now called, felt happiness for the first time in her life. She was not going to be lonely ever again, but this happiness she felt was spoiled by another feeling - guilt. She knew friends should be honest with each other, but she dared not. Sometimes, perhaps, it was best to keep somethings secret. So Dawn decided it would be best to keep her past to herself!
6. Dilly has a problem
Dilly was extremely unhappy, because she did not fit in; the other wolves did not like her. Her father, Orion, had finally been reunited with his parents, Antares and Elektra and his lost pack. As Orion and Ebony struck up new friendships and spent time getting to know his aging parents, Dilly felt pushed out. Dilly found herself without proper friends, amongst strangers that did not trust her and in a different forest, located just outside the Ancient Forest in which she had been born. It looked different, it smelled different and she was different; marked by a dreadful scar, caused by Primrose’s stone foot. She felt alienated and lonely.
Even Junior had moved on and spent time establishing himself within the hierarchy of the pack, which often involved a lot of rough, boisterous play. Junior was determined to be no pushover; he felt he had to prove to himself, his parents and the pack that he was strong, brave, fearless and dependable. He used his time improving his hunting, fighting and stalking skills, often pitting his strength against the other older, male wolves. Junior was determined Primrose would never get the better of him again.
Although Dilly had tried to mix with the pack, she found it impossible. Whenever she approached them without her family being present, they turned on her; not with their teeth or claws but with their body language and remarks, as well as their silences and looks. Dilly was made to feel very uncomfortable; the pack did not trust her. They considered her to be tainted, because of that huge, ugly scar that disfigured her side.
Messages had been received from rabbits; they had travelled through the ground warning animals of a she-wolf with a horrifying wound that had healed over-night; it had been caused by a witch called Primrose. Anyone associating with Dilly would be in danger. Any normal wolf would have died outright with such an injury; therefore Dilly could not be normal. Dilly was bad luck. Dilly was shunned. The wolf pack took the rabbits’ warnings seriously; they were scared of her; certain she had magic. They did their best to try and scare her away.
When Dilly approached her mother and told her of her fears, Ebony felt that her daughter was exaggerating the pack’s behaviour and that she would settle in time. Even so, Ebony had secretly watched the wolves on several occasions and had witnessed no bullying or intimidation. Ebony did not want Dilly to think her worries were being ignored. So, she gave her daughter the following advice: be brave, to stand on her own four paws, never show any signs of weakness and remain calm when confronted by bullies.
Dilly had tried. Dilly had tried very hard. She could hold her own against one or two of them, but it was getting harder. She was losing confidence in herself; the pack was wearing her down.
Now, she often took herself off on long walks, preferring her own company and her own thoughts. She considered the idea of running away. Perhaps, she could find Elina and Shadow, her youngest brother. Elina had always treated her nicely. Elina did not care about the scar. Dilly missed Elina and Briony so much. Dilly could not understand this spitefulness against her or the lack of support from her parents and Junior. She felt so alone, as if adrift.
On one of her long walks that took her back into the Ancient Forest, Dilly had found a fantastic resting place, a hidden spot, amongst thick brambles, but in their midst a small, grassy opening where she could enjoy the warmth of the sun. She enjoyed the peace, felt relaxed and sometimes slept soundly; away from prying eyes and cruel jibes.
One day, as she lay dozing, feeling the power of the sun warm her disfigured side (it was strange, but sometimes it felt so cold), she thought of Primrose and was suddenly struck by a strange thought. Primrose had stayed hidden in a ‘spot’ for years, surrounded by thorny brambles - ugly, forgotten and unloved and here Dilly lay, in a different spot, ugly and alone, all thanks to her!
Dilly felt a surge of pure anger flood through her; this was all Primrose’s fault. If Shadow (or Trouble as he was called back then) had not been caught in the brambles, Primrose would never have been found. If Primrose had not hurt Elina, she would not have retaliated and bitten Primrose’s foot and then Primrose wouldn’t have kicked her and injured her. Furthermore, she would have had friends, lots of them! Dilly hoped the bite she had given Primrose was causing her just as much pain and grief.
Disturbed from her thoughts, Dilly heard faint growls and rustlings on the other side of the bramble thicket. Her ears twitched. She turned towards the sound, fully alert and her nose identified the intruders quickly - the pack! They had sought her out. Dilly felt her hackles rise and her temper flare.
She was ready to take her mother’s advice and stand on her own four paws, but this was not the place to fight, trapped inside a thorny prison. Fuming that the pack had taken away her place of refuge, her only place of safety, she prepared herself to make a final stand against them. She would take the fight to them. After all, if she had been brave enough to bite Primrose and save Elina from further harm, she should be able to take on a few wolves. She could do this.
‘She’s in here somewhere,’ snuffled one wolf excitedly.
‘Hiding,’ jeered another.
‘Frightened and alone, by the smell of it,’ laughed a third.
‘There’s enough of us to give her a real fright this time,’ a fourth added smugly, trying his best to be quiet, but at the same time too excited and confident in their numbers to care.
‘Remember, no marks, can’t afford to get on Orion’s bad side. If that upstart thinks he can waltz straight into the alpha role, he’s got another fight on his hands,’ another wolf stated forcefully.
Dilly recognised that voice and was slightly shocked. The voice belonged to Ursa, her father’s older brother, son of Antares - a huge, powerful wolf. She was momentarily stunned that he was the leader of the group that pursued her and it unnerved her. However, she remembered her mother’s advice; Dilly would not show them any signs of weakness. She decided to go ahead with her plan.
‘We can run her out of the forest. She’s bad luck; you’ve only got to see how Antares and Elektra have aged since she’s arrived. They’re not going to last much longer and it’s all down to her,’ Corvus stated forcibly. Corvus was a mature wolf and one to be wary of, he was also Ursa’s best friend.
It was Corvus that Dilly had suspected of turning the pack against her. She felt that his remark was totally unfair. What chance did she have against that type of mentality? She could sense the excitement mounting within the pack surrounding her and estimated their numbers to be around six or seven, she was massively outnumbered.
She waited and bided her time until she located their weakest spot - Sasha, a young female wolf, just a bit bigger than her but not as confident. She would become Dilly’s escape route. Listening intently, she waited for their signal to attack; that would be her moment to jump out of her hiding place, aiming for Sasha.
The pack had spaced themselves evenly around her and had become quiet. Dilly recognised the signs; any second now the wolves were going to make their move. She felt them tense and a frisson of energy surged through her. Dilly jumped. The pack jumped. Dilly was momentarily saddened as she aimed for Sasha; Sasha had been nice to her at first, but like them all she had turned under the pressure of the others.
Dilly knocked her completely sideways and noticed Sasha fall awkwardly i
nto the spiky brambles. She knew from Shadow’s experience how sore those barbs could be, as they stuck and tore into and through fur. It was Sasha or her: Dilly had had no choice. She did not have time to waste on any compassion for Sasha.
Dilly landed lightly and discovered she had more pressing problems, not all of the wolves had jumped and she had greatly underestimated their numbers. Six jumped, four had not - she now faced four older, experienced male wolves. What chance did she have against them? Time seemed to stand still. She heard the whimpering of the fallen wolf and the disappointed, angry grumblings of the wolves that had jumped and found her missing.
She sensed they were preparing to jump again. Ursa, Corvus and two other wolves turned as one and faced her; their yellow, determined eyes of hostility glared angrily at her. Greatly disadvantaged to make a stand, Dilly turned quickly and ran. She ran as fast as she could. She ran for her life with four angry wolves snapping at her heels, certain in the knowledge that another five wolves would be following close behind and soon.
The forest was unknown to Dilly and the path she had taken was badly overgrown. Bushes tore at her coat viciously, undergrowth snatched at her feet and legs trying to trip her up, but Dilly sped forward, ducking under low, hanging branches, jumping blindly over others, veering sharply around obstacles, but the wolves still followed. She could not shake them from her trail.
Dilly drew in great lungsful of air, she felt her scar pull and her muscles ache, she knew she was running out of time. Up ahead, she saw a wide opening, a gash in the ground - the river!
Unlikely Allies Page 4
