The Prince Who Fell From the Sky (11 page)

The dog scrambled up onto the wing, his claws scrapping on the rust as he fled through the opening after the child. Once Casseomae was inside, the cub pulled the panel shut.

The light coming through the grimy windows was dim. “Is this what the pup came down in?” Pang asked, panting heavily on the mossy floor beside the child.

“No,” Dumpster said. “This is an old one. Probably from before the Turning.”

Barks grew louder and then Casseomae could hear the wolves surrounding the passering. “In there,” one
cried. “Look for a way in.” A clattering of nails sounded on the wing outside followed by sniffs at the closed door.

The child clung to Casseomae’s fur. A wolf scratched ferociously, trying to dig open the metal door. They couldn’t open it, she was certain. Wolves couldn’t use their forepaws like she and the cub could. But then a black nose wedged through the broken window where Dumpster had entered. Casseomae leaped up and raked her claws against it, sending the wolf whining back down the wing.

“Do you think they saw the pup?” Dumpster said as Casseomae settled back down.

“We’re trapped in here either way,” she replied. “This was a mistake, rat.”

“You’d rather be out there?”

Casseomae growled.

“If the scout didn’t see him,” the dog said, “then they’ll hopefully move on once they realize they can’t reach us in here.”

“And if they saw him?” Dumpster said.

“Just be quiet,” Casseomae said, turning to comfort the trembling cub with licks.

The wolves growled and barked at one another, setting up a guard around the passering. Casseomae peered around the interior. The part she could see wasn’t very wide, just enough for her to turn around. Up toward the nose, a dome of white leaned out from around a corner.
A skull. Most likely the carcass of the Skinless who had perished in the crash long ago. The cub clung tight to Casseomae’s side and chirped softly to her.

Just when Casseomae thought the wolves might have left, she heard one up on the wing again, sniffing at the door. Once he had climbed back down, Dumpster ventured up to the broken window and peered out.

“Do you see them?” Casseomae asked.

“Yeah,” the rat replied. “About ten. The way those underlickers are lounging around, they don’t seem in any hurry to leave.”

Casseomae dug her claws into the mildewed material lining the floor. She’d fight them, drive them off, but doing so would mean the cub would have to open the door. She couldn’t risk his being seen. Besides, ten was a lot of wolves. She’d known male bears bigger than her taken down by that many. They waited and the setting sun sent golden shafts through the windows, and still the wolves kept the worrisome siege.

Dumpster sniffed. “Hey, there might be Old Devil food in here.” He scampered up through the nooks lining the walls, and Pang rustled around to help, with the cub following him.

Casseomae lay listening for the wolves, but they were silent. “Any luck?”

“Nothing,” Dumpster said, appearing from the shadows. “It’s all been had by raccoons and mice.”

The child returned, having found a metal stick, and settled back next to her, holding the stick tightly to his chest. When darkness finally began to fall and the cub lay sleeping against her side, Casseomae said, “We can’t stay here forever.”

Dumpster circled around her, his whiskers twitching. “I think I have an idea.” Before she could ask what, the rat climbed up to the broken window and disappeared outside.

Casseomae exchanged a curious glance with Pang. She went to the window and peered out at the dark. All she could hear was the restless shifting of the wolves encamped around the passering. Where had that rat gone?

But then she heard wolves below, beneath the wing, talking to one another. “… his scout said it was protected by a bear.”

“Is she the one?”

“The Ogeema will know when he arrives.”

Casseomae jolted, feeling angry saliva fill her mouth. Was the Ogeema coming? She rounded to Pang, but before she could say anything, a wolf barked and then the whole growling pack was on their feet, their paws crunching on leaves. An odor crept through the broken window, a noxious and eye-stinging vapor. The cub woke and whimpered to Casseomae.

“I don’t know, little cub,” she said, licking him. “But stay quiet.”

Her nose ran violently, and Pang seemed to be suffering the same result, because he shook his head trying to drive the terrible smell away. “What’s that rat done?” he whined.

Dumpster came back through the window. “I think it’s working,” he said gleefully.

“What is?” Casseomae growled.

“Listen,” the rat replied, sitting on his haunches.

The wolves barked at one another, but Casseomae could hear their steps moving back from the passering.

“Gasoline,” Dumpster said. “Fortunately it hadn’t leaked from the crash. I snipped a line and let it spill out. An old mischief trick my da taught me.”

Casseomae stood up to peer through the window. The wolves were retreating. She felt her head swimming and said, “Have you poisoned us to keep the wolves from having the cub?”

“It’s not so strong in here,” Dumpster said.

“It’s strong enough to make my tongue feel like pine bark,” Pang complained.

“Oh, shut it, cur,” he said. “The effects will pass. But I spilled it right on some of those idiot wolves. They’ll have a time getting that stink from their noses, not to mention trying to scratchin’ follow us now.”

Casseomae heard the wolves call to one another, the sounds growing distant. The cub was burying his face in her fur. “We need to leave,” she said. “I heard the wolves say that the Ogeema was coming.”

“What?” Pang snapped. “You must have heard wrong.”

“I didn’t.”

“This is Gnash’s realm,” Pang said. “The Ogeema might hold sway over other pack chiefs, but he’d never enter another pack’s territory.”

Casseomae growled up at Dumpster peering through the window. “Can we go?”

“All right, then.” He slipped through the broken glass.

Casseomae pushed against the door and it creaked open. Pang dashed out first, and as soon as he stopped on the wing, he whined, “Blessed Companions, it’s worse out here!”

“Just watch out you don’t step in it,” Dumpster said from the edge of the wing. “It’s mostly under the passering, so just get all the way down here before you hop off.”

Casseomae’s snout burned as she came out. She couldn’t smell anything besides the awful poisons Dumpster had released. She listened for the wolves, hearing only distant howls.

“Come on, cub,” she called back. “Stay close.”

The child emerged from the doorway looking around warily. He poked his metal stick out at the dark Forest and made a
pop
with his lips.

The four hurried from the passering without getting any of the smell on their paws, and after they had traveled a time, Casseomae felt her head clearing.

“That was pretty clever,” she admitted to Dumpster.

He leaped onto her forepaw and climbed up to settle at the back of her head. “Of course it was,” he said. “I’m a rat, after all.”

C
asseomae worried as they journeyed along a rolling stretch of the Forest the next morning. Could the Ogeema himself really be searching for the cub?

Pang gauged their direction with the rising sun. When he stopped abruptly, Casseomae felt her legs tighten, ready for battle. The cub, paying more attention now to the reactions of the other three, knelt and pointed his metal stick out protectively.

“What is it?” Casseomae said. “I don’t smell wolves.”

“Not wolves,” Pang said, looking around. A long line of ruined buildings stretched in either direction along a narrow trail. Several of the buildings had tall colorful treelike billboards and signs of plastic and metal rising from the ground. “I recognize this place.”

“Scratchin’ good for you,” Dumpster said. “Now can we keep moving?”

Pang trotted over to Casseomae. “We’re getting near the Auspectres.”

Casseomae looked around at the ruins. “The witches live here?”

“No,” Pang said. “But we need something first.”

“What’s that?” she asked.

“We need to bring them a carcass,” Pang said.

“Oh, I see how this works,” Dumpster said, leaping down from Casseomae. “Very clever. They convince voras to bring them their catch rather than having to search the Forest for it. Got to admire their knack for taking advantage of the gullible.”

“It’s not for food,” Pang said. “They divine the future from the carcass.”

“You’re saying they don’t eat it?” Dumpster asked.

“Of course they do, but if we don’t bring them a carcass, they’ll have nothing to use to answer our question.”

“Well, it won’t be a problem,” Casseomae said. “There are kills all over the Forest. I smell some rotting elk nearby at this very moment.”

“It’s not that simple,” Pang said. “We can’t just bring them the first pile of maggoty hide and bones we find. It’s got to be something good. Something fresh. Otherwise, they might require an offering as well.”

Dumpster rose on his hind legs. “What do you mean, ‘an offering’?”

“They require payment. If the carcass is good enough, they might need nothing extra. But if it’s not, you might have to give something else. It really depends on the question and how difficult it is to divine.”

“Was yours difficult?” Casseomae asked.

“Yes.”

“And what did you bring them?”

“A pair of rabbits. It was a fresh kill. I thought they would like that. But there are so many of them.…” He shivered. “A pair of rabbits was hardly enough to go around. To answer my question, they told me I had to give them something else.”

“Another catch?” Casseomae asked.

“No.”

“What, then?”

Pang dropped his snout, his lone ear twitching. “My ear. They took my ear as a sacrifice for the knowledge that would eventually save my life.”

Casseomae looked at the gaping ear hole on the side of Pang’s head and the scars around it.

“How big a viand can you carry?” Pang asked. “Could you carry a doe?”

“Yes, something bigger even, I’d suppose.”

“Good,” Pang said. “We’re going to try a tactic my pack used. Come on.”

The trail met up with a line of buildings. The ruined dens went on and on, occasionally spreading out to the sides where other trails intersected the main one. Casseomae hadn’t seen so many buildings before, and she asked Dumpster, “Is this a city?”

“No,” the rat laughed. “Not like the city where I’m from. The dens go up and up. But this was some sort of colony.”

“All the rock the Companions placed for trails keeps the trees from growing thick here,” Pang said. “Good foraging for the viands. Lots of drinking holes too. When the sun sets, the tribes of deer will come in from the Forest. We just need to find … yes, I think I see something.”

The dog sprinted ahead with the child chasing after him. The two reached a jumble of cars that made a wall across the road. They climbed over and disappeared on the other side. When Casseomae and Dumpster clambered over a car’s hood, Pang was investigating a building that had crumbled into a cove of rock and metal.

“Look over there,” Dumpster said. “Those are dumpsters!”

Casseomae eyed the big metal containers as Pang trotted back.

“This will do,” he said. “So you know how when you’re running down a herd of deer, you hope to catch the slowest. A fawn or an old buck or an injured doe.”
Pang looked around. “But sometimes, you can trap them. If they panic and run into this den …”

“Not bad,” Dumpster said.

“You’ll stay here,” Pang said to Casseomae. “Hide on the other side of those relics where they won’t smell you. I’ll go down a ways and find a water hole. I’ll wait there. When the deer arrive, I’ll drive them this way. You’ll steer them into that den. Then we can get a big one.”

“You don’t have a pack to help you,” Casseomae said. “You expect to be able to scare them all?”

“I can manage,” Pang said. “I could take the pup with me. He could help.”

“No,” Casseomae said. “I’m not letting him out of my sight.”

Dumpster let out a squeak of amusement. “Nice try, cur. Want to live out your hunting fantasies with a real Companion?”

Pang gave an affronted lift of his snout. “Just be ready,” he said before trotting away.

The child began to follow him, but Casseomae gave a gruff bark. He looked back at her. She lumbered toward him, nipping gently at his elbow. “Come back here with me.”

The child watched Pang disappear. His shoulders slumped and he chirped something softly under his breath.

As the sun set and they waited, Dumpster slunk around the undersides of the cars, scaring up grasshoppers from the weeds and catching them in his sharp teeth. The child watched with delight. When a grasshopper landed near his leg, the child crouched over it with cupped hands. With a quick grab, he caught it. He let out a laugh and ran over toward Dumpster.

The rat scampered behind Casseomae. “I’ll catch them myself,” he sniffed.

Casseomae lay on her stomach, chewing on soft shoots. The child looked at her, the grasshopper pinched between his fingers. Slowly he approached, holding out the insect.

She knew what he wanted to do and gave a gentle huff. When he extended his hand toward her snout, she reached out with her long lips and took it from his fingers.

The cub stood back up, a wide grin on his face.

“You’re a weird one, Cass,” Dumpster said.

The cub ran off to catch another grasshopper, but when he brought it to her, she turned her head away. It had been funny the first time. A curiosity. To let her cub feed her. But it wasn’t right. He had to catch food for himself.

He pushed the grasshopper to her lips, his eyes wide with eagerness. But she grunted, “No,” and lowered her head to bite another cluster of grass.

The child looked at the grasshopper in his fingers. He watched it for a moment and then stuck it in his mouth, crunching on the body with a wrinkled nose. When he at last swallowed it, he looked around and set off to catch another.

Dumpster flicked his tail. “Weird,” he said. “Just scratchin’ weird.”