by H. Y. Hanna
SEVEN
HONEY COULD HEAR THE sound of heavy panting in the darkness. She strained her ears as she continued to take small, hesitant steps forwards. Was it just her own panting? Or was there also the sound of something else breathing in the depths of the cave?
At first she could see nothing at all, but gradually, as her eyes became accustomed to the blackness around her, she began making out faint shapes and outlines. Honey relaxed slightly as she saw that she seemed to be alone. The cave was not very deep, she realised—the space inside quickly narrowed to a sunken crevice in the rocks of the back wall—but it was tall. Above her head, the empty space soared upwards. She stopped and tilted her head, looking up. Did she hear a sound? A fluttering from the ceiling of the cave?
“Honey! Are you OK?” came a loud whisper from just outside the cave.
Honey turned around. “Yes! Come in—I don’t think there’s anything in here.”
The others trooped in. Suka had the little bat now, carrying it carefully in her mouth. They had barely gone a few steps, however, when there was a volley of ear-piercing squeaks and a black cloud swooped down from nowhere and enveloped them.
“AAAAAAGGGHHH!”
“Chokin’ chicken bones!”
“HELP!”
“Grrrrrr!”
Honey felt like she was in a maelstrom of angry black wings and furious squeaking. She scrunched up her eyes and shook her head, running blindly in circles as she tried to get away from the assault.
Omph! She crashed into another dog. It was Ruffster, ducking his head as he tried to fend off the attackers. All around the cave, she could see her other friends staggering around, whirling, and cringing, as a swarm of black bodies dive-bombed them.
Finally, the dogs all retreated to the back wall and huddled there, breathing hard. As suddenly as it had come, the black cloud disappeared, although Honey heard the squeaking continue high up in the cave ceiling.
“Oh, no—I dropped it!” cried Suka suddenly. “The little bat!”
They turned and saw the little bat sitting on the floor in the middle of the cave. It looked slightly dazed, but otherwise unharmed. It was fluttering its wings weakly. Suka ran over to pick it up, but as soon as she approached the little bat, a barrage of squeaks sounded in the ceiling and the black swarm descended on them again.
“Suka! Get back!” cried Honey. “I think I know what’s happening. They saw you carrying the little bat in your mouth and they think we’re dangerous. Maybe they think you hunted it down. They’re trying to protect it!”
Even as she spoke, Honey saw a slightly larger brown bat suddenly flutter down and land next to the little bat, who uttered a squeak and crawled over to huddle against the larger bat’s body.
“That must be its mummy!” said Biscuit excitedly.
The mother bat wrapped her wings protectively around her baby, then turned and hissed at Suka, raising her lips and showing her tiny teeth. The Husky hesitated, then backed away.
“I think we should leave,” growled Tyson, as the swarm of bats continued to fly around them.
With one last look at the little bat and with their tails between their legs, the dogs slunk out of the cave. Outside, they each shook themselves and Honey took grateful gulps of the fresh night air.
“Oh, I think my nose is never going to able to smell anything again,” moaned Biscuit, pawing his muzzle.
“It was the bat guano,” said Suka. “Bat poo. It was all over the floor of the cave.”
Yuck, thought Honey, looking down at her paws and wondering if she had stepped on any.
“We were only tryin’ to help,” grumbled Ruffster. “Don’t they realise we brought the baby back to them?”
“Yeah, we went to all the trouble of rescuing it and carrying it through the forest—and we didn’t even get a thank you!” said Suka, flicking her tail in disgust.
“Never mind,” said Honey with a sigh. “At least the baby bat is safe now and that’s all that matters.”
“Long walk back,” growled Tyson. “Better get started.”
Biscuit put his nose to the ground, then trotted purposefully off. “This way. I’ve picked up our scent and we can follow our own trail back.”
They started trudging after him, heads down, tails low. They were all feeling a bit sad and upset. It’s horrible when you spend a lot of time and effort doing something, and then nobody appreciates it or even realises what you’d done! Honey tried to tell herself, though, that sometimes it’s important to do nice things for others—even if you might not get a thank you. She imagined the baby bat snuggling up to its mummy, its little feet clinging to her soft fur, safe in the cave now... instead of ending up a stiff, glassy-eyed statue in Lord Higginbottom’s collection—and she felt a bit better.
She came out of her thoughts to realise that Biscuit had slowed down and was looking around, sniffing the air intently.
“You lost, mate? Did the bat poo break your nose?” asked Ruffster, pausing next to him.
Biscuit bristled indignantly. “My nose isn’t broken. It just needed a bit of time to recover.”
“Well, why did you stop then?”
Biscuit took another deep sniff, his large black nose quivering. “Over there!” he said suddenly, with great excitement, and dived into the undergrowth on his right.
They all watched in bemusement as he backed out of the bushes, dragging something with him. Honey looked closer—it was some kind of package, with foil and clear crinkly plastic on top. Biscuit was shaking it eagerly and half a mouldy sandwich slid out. The bread had already started growing furry green spots, and the cheese and tomato inside were gooey and brown.
“Biscuit!” said Suka in disgust. “You’re not going to eat that!”
“Why not?” asked the Beagle, eyeing the sandwich with relish.
“Eeeeuw,” said Ruffster, wrinkling his muzzle. “I eat a lot o’ stuff, mate, but I wouldn’t touch that with an extendible leash.”
“Well, I think it’s fine,” said Biscuit and, before anyone could stop him, he picked up the mouldy sandwich and swallowed it in two bites. Honey winced. She had seen Biscuit eat a lot of disgusting things, but that had to be one of the worst. She didn’t know how he could do it.
Biscuit licked his lips. “Tastes great. I like my cheese a bit aged...” He looked towards the bushes again, wagging his tail. “Maybe there’s more!”
But just as he was about to dive into the undergrowth again, a low, hissing growl made them all freeze. There was a rustle in the bushes and then the leaves parted as an enormous black shape stepped out from behind them. Honey stared at the sleek, black body and fierce feline face, then dropped her eyes to the wicked talons curving from large, powerful paws.
It was the Lucifee.
EIGHT
THE HUGE BLACK CAT stalked forwards. It was even bigger than Honey, with a long, lashing black tail and thick, muscular neck. Its whiskers twitched as it looked at Ruffster, who was standing the nearest to it. Its yellow eyes gleamed hungrily.
“N-n-n-nice kitty,” said Ruffster with a gulp, as he slowly backed away.
The Lucifee hissed suddenly and lifted its lips, showing long, yellow fangs.
“Ticks!” yelped Ruffster, scrambling backwards.
Tyson jumped in front of him and faced the big cat, snarling and raising his own lips to show his teeth. Honey stared in disbelief. She knew the Jack Russell was fearless—he had greater courage than dogs five times his size—but standing up to the Lucifee? Was he crazy?
The big black cat narrowed its eyes, then raised a mighty paw and swiped at Tyson. The Jack Russell jumped nimbly aside, but even as he rolled over and got to his feet, the big cat was swiping at him again. This time those sharp talons nearly ripped into Tyson’s skin.
“Watch out!” cried Honey, rushing forwards.
She began to circle the Lucifee, barking frantically. The others joined in. The huge cat snarled and whirled around, facing them and lashing out with its deadly paws. Biscu
it whimpered suddenly as the tip of one paw caught one of his back legs and he went flying. The Beagle landed on the ground with a thump. He stood up again slowly, shaking his head to clear it. Honey breathed a sigh of relief—she couldn’t see any blood. The Lucifee’s claws must have just missed Biscuit.
But the big cat wasn’t finished. It spun around and pounced on the Beagle.
“NO!” cried Honey.
Biscuit looked up, his eyes huge with terror. But before the big cat could touch Biscuit, something small and furious launched itself snarling onto the Lucifee’s neck. The big cat screamed and started shaking itself, spitting and hissing, trying to dislodge the thing hanging onto its neck.
It was Tyson! The Jack Russell had grabbed the Lucifee’s scruff in his teeth and was growling and tugging, while desperately trying to stay on the big cat’s body. Honey watched in awe. Tyson was barely the size of the Lucifee’s head, yet the Jack Russell was hanging on with grim determination. There was no question that he had saved Biscuit’s life. But now his own life was in danger. Honey could see his grip weakening as the Lucifee continued writhing around. Any minute now, the big cat would throw him to the ground and then those fangs would be on Tyson’s throat.
Honey gathered herself, ready to charge the Lucifee, and she saw Suka and Ruffster do the same—then they heard something. A familiar sound.
A volley of ear-piercing squeaks.
Then a swarm of furious black wings burst out of the night sky and surrounded the Lucifee.
“It’s the bats!” cried Honey in delight. “They’ve come to help us!”
Tyson let go and dropped off, rolling to safety, as the tiny black bodies dive-bombed the big cat, squeaking and flapping. The Lucifee shrieked and hissed, jumping up into the air to try and swipe the bats away, but they were too quick. They swooped and swerved, wheeled and weaved, relentlessly bombarding the Lucifee. Finally, with a frustrated yowl, the big cat turned and ran off, its cries fading into the distance.
“Holy liver treat!” barked Ruffster, jumping up and down. “Did you see that?”
“Grrrreat moves.” Tyson nodded approvingly, wagging his stump of a tail.
“That was pawsome!” cried Suka, spinning around in delight.
Biscuit raised his nose and gave a grateful, “A-Woo-woo-woo-woo...”
“Thank you!” called Honey, up into the night sky. “Thank you for coming to our rescue!”
The swarm of black bats circled above their heads, then swooped down once more. Honey braced herself, but they fluttered to a stop in mid-air a few feet from her. Then one of them darted forwards and touched its nose to hers for a fleeting second. Honey saw a pair of bright black eyes in a little brown face. She recognised those eyes. It was the mother bat. And she was saying thank you in her own turn for their return of her baby.
The bats fluttered in front of them for a second more, then they rose up into the sky and were gone.
“Howling Hyenas,” said Suka, giving herself a good shake. “Am I going to have a story to tell at the dog park!”
THE SUN WAS SLIPPING down the horizon when Olivia went around the house drawing the curtains a few days later. Honey raised her head from where she had been sleeping, sprawled out on her beanbag, and stretched languidly.
“Come on, lazybones,” said Olivia with a chuckle. “You’ve been sleeping all day. I think it’s time we went for your walk.”
Honey got up and shook herself, sending sleep slobber flying in all directions. She was about to follow Olivia into the hallway when her human paused in front of the TV box, which was showing a person talking in a serious voice, mixed with little movies of different things. Honey knew that this was a special programme called “the news”. Olivia liked to watch it every evening, but Honey didn’t usually pay much attention. Tonight, however, she stood riveted in front of the screen. The movie was showing a huge black cat being carried out of the forest in a cage. It was the Lucifee. Honey would never forget those yellow eyes. It was snarling and hissing at the humans around the cage as it was loaded into a truck.
Then the movie changed and showed the big black cat now prowling around a large enclosure, filled with trees and bushes, large boulders and fallen logs. A crowd of humans were standing around a high wall looking down at it, smiling and pointing and taking pictures with their camera machines. The Lucifee looked much happier now, though, as it stretched out on a large log and rolled onto its back. Its fur was sleek and glossy, and its eyes looked sleepy instead of mean.
“My goodness, so Lord Higginbottom’s story was true,” said Olivia, shaking her head at the TV screen. “Who would have thought?” She reached over and switched off the TV box, then went to the front door.
Honey stood obediently as her human clipped her leash onto her collar, then they headed out. A few other people were on the streets and Honey saw Ruffster across the road, leaving Peemail against a lamp post, while his Guy stood patiently waiting. She waved her tail at her friend, then turned in the opposite direction and followed Olivia down the pavement.
As they paused at the crossing, something made Honey look up. It was a clear night tonight and the moon shone brightly. Everything looked calm and peaceful. Who would have thought that the same moon could have looked so sinister on Halloween only a few days ago!
Something black crossed in front of the moon. Honey cocked her head. The black shape got bigger and bigger, and Honey realised that it was actually not one shape but several little ones. A colony of bats, flying through the night sky. She smiled to herself. She couldn’t be sure, but somehow she felt that the little bat was up there, flying past with its family.
“You know,” said Olivia, looking up at the sky as well, her eyes following the bats, “I don’t know why Lord Higginbottom’s Cook was getting so hysterical about that little bat on Halloween. There may be some bad superstitions about them, but there are some good superstitions too.” She smiled at Honey. “You know the Chinese believe that bats are an omen of good luck and happiness?”
Honey wagged her tail and they continued their walk in the cool, autumn evening.
THE END
MESSAGE IN A BAUBLE
ONE
“WHERE D’YOU WANT THESE?”
Honey the Great Dane looked up as a shadow loomed over her. An old man with unkempt grey hair stood holding a cardboard box which brimmed with gold and silver tinsel, glittering red baubles, frosted snowflake ornaments, and a huge plastic snowman with a cheesy button smile.
The man’s face was not smiling, though. In fact, he was scowling heavily—deep lines running down from his nose on either side of his mouth and an angry knot between his grey eyebrows. Something about his piercing black eyes made Honey’s hackles rise and she wrinkled her muzzle in a low growl.
“Honey!”
Honey turned to see her human, Olivia, giving her a reproachful look. Olivia rose from kneeling by the Christmas tree and gave the old man an apologetic smile.
“You must have startled her. She’s usually really friendly and never growls at anyone.”
The man didn’t respond, but just stood there, holding the box.
Olivia’s smile faltered a bit, then she pointed to a spot by the Christmas tree. “Could you leave the box there? Thank you very much.”
The man gave a grunt, dropped the box in place, and stomped out of the room, leaving a trail of wet footprints on the floor behind him. Honey watched him go, still vaguely uneasy. Olivia kneeled by the box and began rummaging through it, lifting ornaments out and hanging them carefully on the Christmas tree. She gave Honey another reproachful look as Honey sat down next to her.
“What was that all about, Honey? It was just Jones, the school gardener. Why were you growling at him?”
Honey shifted uncomfortably. She hated getting a Telling-Off from Olivia. Besides, it was true. She hardly ever growled at anyone, unlike her friend, Tyson the Jack Russell Terrier, who was definitely more of a “growl first, sniff bums later” kind of dog. Still, there had bee
n something about that old man...
“Psst. Honey. Don’t worry, I don’t like him either.”
Honey looked up to see Suka the Siberian Husky waving her plumed tail at her from across the room. Suka was the reason they were all here. Or rather, Suka’s human, her Boy’s Mother, who had asked them all to come and help decorate the school hall for the Christmas Fair tomorrow.
“My Boy says all the kids are scared of Jones. He lives in this cottage at the back of the school and cuts all the bushes around it into creepy shapes!” Suka gave a mock shudder. Suka might have been a Husky, but her real calling was “newshound”. Nothing happened in the neighbourhood without Suka knowing about it first. The only problem was figuring out which part of her news was real and which part had been added by her imagination. By now, Honey had learned to take the Husky’s words with a big pinch of liver sprinkles.
Still, Suka was right about Jones being creepy. Honey thought of those piercing black eyes and hoped she didn’t have to see him again.
“Hmm... what’s this?” Olivia frowned at a round object in her hands. She pulled a face and tossed it aside, then continued taking more decorations out of the box. The round object rolled towards Honey and stopped by her paw. She leaned down and sniffed it carefully. At first she thought it was a bauble, like the other ones on the tree, but instead of being bright red, gold, or silver, this one was a dull crimson, the paint chipped and flaking. And instead of a loop for hanging, there was a large hole on one side. It smelled of plastic. And dirt. And paper.
Paper?
Honey peered into the hole. There was a piece of paper wedged inside. Faintly, she could see black marks on it. Writing? Curious now, she nudged the strange bauble with her nose. It rolled in a circle, coming back to stop by her paw. She peered into the hole again. The piece of paper was still there. It had shifted a bit, though, and was now upside down, the black marks showing clearer. Definitely writing.
