The Prince Who Fell from the Sky

by John Claude Bemis

  Stormdrain sighed. “The mischief will not come. You know as well as I that as long as these voras are nearby, they will not come out, not even to greet you. It’s impossible.”

  “Scratchin’ mites, I had given up hope of ever finding you again,” Dumpster said. “I can’t leave you now!”

  “You must,” the old rat said firmly. “See if you can find this den of safety. When you do, let us know and I will try to convince the others to join you.”

  Dumpster flapped his tail against the ground. “Very well,” he said. “Stay hidden. Keep the mischief safe. I’ll return as soon as I can.”

  “Thank you, brave buck,” Stormdrain said. The old rat rose on his hind legs to bump noses with Dumpster and then scurried into the underbrush.

  As the four of them started walking again, Casseomae glanced back and saw eyes glinting in the dark. She was amazed that the rats had come so far, but then she could hardly believe she had traveled so far from her own meadow.

  The wound in her shoulder was oozing again. She could feel it thickening in her fur. Just a little farther, she thought. Just a little farther and the cub would be safe.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  They had walked past scores of the metal branches when Dumpster finally said, “I might have been wrong. My memory is not as scratchin’ perfect as Stormdrain believes. It could be that this fence has no gate.”

  “What about the trees?” Pang said, looking at the ones nearest the fence. “Some of their branches hang over the fence. I can’t climb, but the rest of you could try.”

  Casseomae looked up at the maples and dogwoods curling over the top of the fence. She feared her shoulder had lost too much strength to allow her to make the climb. Besides, the branches looked too thin to support any of them but Dumpster.

  Before she could say so, Dumpster squeaked, “Don’t go near it!”

  Casseomae turned to see the child reaching out to touch one of the metal sticks. He chirped softly as a red square lit up on its surface.

  Casseomae sniffed. Something was on the stick, something that looked like the glowing device the cub had lost in the river. The child tapped the red square, and the screen turned from red to blue. Casseomae heard a beeping sound, and the dull buzz that had been in her ears faded. The cub grinned at her before waving his hand past the metal stick.

  “What’s he done?” Pang asked.

  “Maybe the electricity doesn’t harm Old Devils,” Dumpster said.

  Casseomae leaned her nose forward, past the metal stick. The shock was gone. She took a step and then another until she was through the fence.

  “He’s opened a gate!” Dumpster squeaked.

  The cub followed Casseomae into the vast meadow. Dumpster came through next, but Pang lay whimpering on the other side.

  “Come on, you mangy coward!” the rat called.

  With a shivering tail, Pang scooted forward and then ran full speed until he was past the others.

  “We’re through,” Casseomae said. “Do you want to gather your mischief?”

  “Let’s see if it’s safe first,” Dumpster said.

  Casseomae led them deeper into the meadow, toward the spinning towers. Up close, they were huge, far taller than any of the skyscrapers in the city.

  More of the fat beefs lowed and trudged about the meadow, along with other creatures—smaller white viands with fluffy, cloudlike coats. The beasts ignored them or moved away slowly when they approached. They did not panic and run like deer would have. Their numbers were enormous, and Casseomae could only guess it was because they were not hunted.

  The air smelled different here, sharp, like nothing Casseomae had ever encountered in the Forest. They walked past the towers and over hills until the meadow grass ended at a bluff. Beyond, a silvery expanse stretched to the horizon.

  “The Wide Waters,” Pang said. He and the cub ran down the slope with excited barks. For Casseomae, the climb down was brutal. Waves of pain passed through her with each step.

  “Cass?” Dumpster asked with an unusual note of concern.

  “I’ll be fine.”

  They stood together in the soft sand. Gentle waves washed up to their paws, and Casseomae nearly lapped at the water before remembering Pang’s warning.

  Pang and the cub ran back to them. “The vultures said we would have to walk over the water,” Pang panted. “How are we going to do that?”

  “A bridge.” Casseomae searched the night waters. “I thought there would be a bridge.”

  “No bridge can cross that,” Dumpster said.

  The cub ran playfully along the edge of the surf, kicking at the white foam.

  “Stay close,” Casseomae said.

  The wind was cool and moist, and Casseomae felt that if she lay down she could drop into sleep immediately. But she stared out. It was all such a wonder—all that water. The world was not just the Forest. There was something else. There was more. But it was a strange, mysterious “more” here at the edge of all she had ever known or imagined.

  “There is nowhere to go,” Casseomae said. “Were the Auspectres wrong?”

  Pang shifted uncomfortably. “It’s … it’s time I told you what I asked the Auspectres.” He glanced down the beach at the cub playing in the surf, then said, “My pack was being hunted. I knew we wouldn’t last much longer. I went to the Auspectres and asked what I could do.

  “They said to set off on my own. That if I did, I would find a Companion, the first in generations, and that he would bring about what I most deeply wanted—the war that would destroy the wolves, the war that would free my kin.

  “So I left them. I abandoned my pack, and I survived. And then I saw the pup—a Companion! Here was the one the Auspectres were talking about! The Auspectres’ prophecy was coming true.”

  Dumpster crept beneath Casseomae, listening but saying nothing.

  “But now there is no bridge, no Island of the Sun, and I’ve realized that I didn’t find the Companion, you did. He’s not my Companion, he’s your cub, and you have made him part of the Forest. He is not the one to bring about the war.”

  Pang scratched at the sandy beach. “It seems the Auspectres were wrong for both of us.”

  The cub ran back up the beach, chirping and waving his hands. When he reached them, he tugged on Casseomae’s forepaw. Casseomae growled with the pain but didn’t have the heart to nip at him.

  “Ahead,” Pang said suddenly. “The cub wants us to see something.”

  They followed the cub along the beach until a concrete structure came into view. It started on the dunes and stretched out like a highway over the water.

  Casseomae and Pang looked at each other.

  “Pluck my whiskers,” Dumpster said. “It’s a bridge!”

  They climbed the dunes and stepped onto the bridge’s smooth surface. The bridge was several strides wide with low walls on either side. Tall poles with spheres of glass at the top stood along the walls.

  Dumpster scrambled up one of the walls. “You know what’s strange about this place?” he asked. “There aren’t any relics here. No rusting vehicles. No crumbling Old Devil dens back in that meadow.”

  “Maybe the Skinless were never here,” Casseomae said.

  “They had to have been,” Dumpster replied. “Who else built that electric fence, those spinning towers, or this scratchin’ bridge?”

  They heard a strange sound, as if all the beefs back in the meadow were lowing at once.

  Casseomae looked worriedly at her friends. “I think we’ve just run out of time. Pang, get the cub to the island. Hurry! Dumpster, you go with them.”

  But Pang, the cub, and Dumpster were staring past her. Casseomae turned to see wolves streaming toward the dunes. Leading the pack was the Ogeema.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  “Let’s go!” Dumpster cried, scurrying up the child’s leg.

  Pang led the way down the bridge at a run, the cub sprinting after him. Casseomae brought up the rear, her forepaws pounding on the bri
dge’s hard surface, each step a searing pain in her shoulder.

  They ran blindly into the darkness, trusting that the bridge led somewhere. Dumpster perched on the cub’s shoulder. Clinging to the cub’s ear, he peered past Casseomae at the pursuing wolves.

  “They’re just on the bridge,” Dumpster said. “There are a lot of them, but not as many as there were before. That cat has left them scratchin’ battled and bruised. Half are limping.”

  Casseomae glanced over her shoulder. Dumpster was right. There were fewer than before, but there were still too many, especially with her shoulder the way it was.

  And the wolves were gaining on them.

  Casseomae swung back around. Her cub was at Pang’s side, keeping a furious pace. He was so tough now, so brave, no longer the small, scared thing she had rescued from the coyotes. She was proud of him and knew that if he could only make it to the island, he would survive.

  Behind her, Casseomae heard the panting and growling of the wolves as they closed the distance between them. The next moment, she felt teeth latch on to her side. She roared and twisted, freeing herself from the wolf’s jaws. The cub looked back at her, and his eyes widened in fear. His feet tangled, and he fell hard, catching himself with his open palms.

  Casseomae pivoted on her hind legs and swiped a forepaw through the air, slamming the leading wolf to the ground. She lunged to the other side and closed her jaws around the throat of the next, then hurled it into the pack. She locked her legs and popped open her jaws, roaring death at the wolves now skidding to a halt.

  The pack were fewer but still easily filled the width of the bridge. They growled at her, showing her teeth and flattened ears. Behind her, Casseomae could hear the cub choking back sobs as Pang urged him to his feet. Run, she thought. Run!

  The pack shifted, and suddenly the Ogeema was standing before her.

  “Old bear,” whispered the enormous black wolf. He stared at her with one icy blue eye. The other was closed, that side of his face torn by three fresh gashes from Mother Death. “The Skinless One must die. You know this.”

  “He is no longer one of the Skinless, Ogeema,” Casseomae said. “He is my cub. He understands and respects the Forest. He is no threat to it, or to you.”

  Behind her, Casseomae could hear Pang whining and the cub’s short, angry chirps. What were they doing? Why weren’t they running?

  The Ogeema pulled back his lips in a quiet laugh. “I have crossed great distances and subjugated pack after pack to end this threat. I will not return while it continues to breathe.”

  Casseomae felt quick claws climbing her hind leg and hurrying across her back. “The cub won’t leave you!” Dumpster whispered into her ear. “Pang has tried, but the cub refuses to go!”

  Casseomae’s heart dropped. Despite her wound, she would kill every wolf here, including the Ogeema. But in the chaos of the fight, only one or two wolves would need to get by her for all to be lost.

  She would not let it happen. She raked her claw against the smooth surface of the bridge and roared her fury at the Ogeema and his army.

  The Ogeema lifted his ears in surprise and then slowly began backing into the pack. “Very well, old bear,” he whispered. His wolves closed around him and advanced, all teeth and snarls.

  Suddenly the globes at the top of the posts all along the bridge erupted in brilliant light. Casseomae shut her eyes against the glare and roared, snapping her jaws blindly, but the wolves didn’t seem to be attacking. They were just as confused as she was.

  Still, she had to know what was going on. Casseomae blinked her eyes open and saw the Ogeema standing in the midst of his frenzied pack. He was staring past her, his ears flat against his head.

  “No,” he whispered. “It cannot be!”

  Casseomae turned to look.

  Silhouetted against the light were several creatures that looked like the cub, but taller.

  Skinless Ones.

  For all the cub had changed her, Casseomae felt a sudden terror at the appearance of these creatures from myth, these destroyers of the Forest and its tribes. They wore devices on their faces and carried metal sticks in their hands like the one the cub had found.

  They raised the sticks and pointed them at the wall of wolves.

  Fire flashed. Thunder roared.

  Something stung Casseomae’s hip, and she slumped to the ground. Behind her the wolves screamed as the Skinless fire and noise cut into them. In moments the entire pack lay spread over the bridge in twisted, tormented positions.

  The Ogeema lay in blood, his blue eye open and his tongue hanging out.

  Casseomae heard her cub cry out and felt his little body as he threw himself against her, sinking his face and hands into her fur.

  “It’s all right, cub,” she said. She licked at his ears, nuzzling her wet nose against him, then climbed painfully to her feet.

  The Skinless began shouting, not the chirping noises her cub used but deeper, louder bellows. They pointed their sticks at her and called to the cub.

  Then a different voice rang out. It was not the deep bellow of these killers or the chirp of her cub. This voice was softer and yet full of authority.

  This new Skinless stepped in front of the others. It was a she, though Casseomae wasn’t sure how she knew that. She did not wear the devices of the others, and she did not carry a storm-bringing stick. She wore a simple blue clothing-hide. The tuft of fur atop her head was long and meadow-grass yellow like the cub’s.

  She spread her arms and called gently to the cub. Then she said something to the other Skinless, and one by one they lowered their weapons. She looked to the side of the bridge, where Pang stood trembling in fear. She knelt and held a hand out to him, smiling. Pang tucked his tail and approached to sniff her fingers. He got close enough for her to pat his ears, then slipped away to stand with Casseomae and the cub.

  “I think she wants to help the pup,” Pang said softly.

  Casseomae felt Dumpster’s claws as he shifted his perch to peer around her. “Why doesn’t he go to her, then?” he said.

  The child clung to Casseomae’s neck. Casseomae licked him again, drawing her tongue across his face, tasting the salt on his skin and the dust of the Forest. “Because he’s my cub,” she said.

  “They’ll never let you take him,” Dumpster squeaked, digging his claws into her. “They’ll kill you. They’ll kill us all.”

  The woman called out. She was still kneeling, and her eyes were wet.

  The cub relaxed his hold on Casseomae but did not turn.

  “You’re not like them,” Casseomae breathed into the cub’s ear. “You’re one of us. One of the Forest.”

  But with a sting in her breast, she realized this wasn’t true. While the cub knew something of the Forest, he would never truly have a place there—the other vora would never trust him, and the wolves would always hunt him.

  Casseomae had set out to find a safe place for him, and that place was here.

  The woman spoke gently, and the child trembled. His blue eyes stared straight into Casseomae’s. Casseomae grunted, rubbing her snout against the cub. She nipped gently at his arm. “Go to her.”

  The cub took a step back, then pressed his nose against Casseomae’s. “It’s safe,” he snorted softly.

  Casseomae sat back on her haunches, transfixed. He had spoken. There was no mistaking it. He had spoken to her in Vorago!

  The cub backed away, then turned and ran to the woman. She gathered him in her arms and swung him around, pressing her mouth to him over and over.

  When she let him go, the cub was grinning. He looked to Pang, and the dog dashed over to him in a flash.

  “How did I know that stupid cur was going to stay with them?” Dumpster said.

  “He’s found his Companions,” Casseomae said simply.

  The woman looked at Casseomae. She spoke briefly to the other Skinless before turning and carrying the child away in her arms. Pang glanced happily back at them before following her.

&nb
sp; The cub watched Casseomae over the woman’s shoulder, his blue eyes as big and wide as the sky. Then he disappeared into the blinding glare of the bridge lights. The remaining Skinless lowered their weapons and followed.

  Casseomae and Dumpster sat in silence and watched them go. After a time, the lights clicked off, and Casseomae and Dumpster were left in darkness. But as her eyes adjusted, Casseomae saw that dawn was beginning to break in the direction that the child had gone. The sky at the end of the bridge was getting lighter.

  Casseomae turned and began making her way through the bodies of the wolves strewn across the ground. She crossed from the bridge to the dunes and, both her shoulder and hip stinging, climbed to the top.

  “Look!” Dumpster squeaked.

  Five coyotes were standing in the meadow. Rend and her rout. Overhead in the gray morning sky, vultures circled on long black wings. The Auspectres had arrived to collect their due.

  “They all smell death,” Casseomae said. “Let’s find your mischief, Dumpster. Let’s leave this place.”

  Casseomae cast one last look back. The bridge seemed to stretch out to where the red sun was rising from the Wide Waters. And in the glow, Casseomae could just make out an island with buildings and passerings.

  “Do you think the cub’s tribe has returned to this island from the sky?” Casseomae asked. “Or do you reckon they were here all along?”

  “Scratch if I know.” Dumpster clicked his teeth. “There’s no Memory to answer that.”

  Dumpster jumped down and ran ahead, eager to reach his mischief. Casseomae limped slowly, nursing her injuries. As she came down from the dunes, Rend and her rout loped away, disappearing into the tree line.

  Casseomae made her way across the meadow and through the metal sticks of the fence. Dumpster and a scattering of rats were just ahead, in the low brush next to a rotten log. As Casseomae started toward them, she heard a pulse of sound. The Skinless fence had come back to life, and once again, the Havenlands were closed.

  “However they’ve come,” she said, thinking not of her cub but of the other Skinless and their weapons, “let’s just hope they stay. Let’s just hope they don’t want the Forest again.”