Anton and Cecil, Book 2 (10 page)

“I'm feeling sleepy myself,” Anton admitted. “But I'm glad I took a look around. This is a strange world you live in.”

“Don't seem funny to me, but then I never been anywheres else.”

“I guess I'll just sleep in the grass here by this field,” Anton said. “That way I'll hear the train.”

“I wouldn't do that if I was you,” Gotcha said. “Sometimes all manner of animals are about, and yer so small you could get stepped on or mistaken for a meal. Sometimes bison come running through here, fast as the train, and you don't get no warning. I almost got kilt once, 'cause I stopped to watch 'em and one split off and near run me down.”

“What are bison?”

“Bison? Hard to say. They've got hooves but they're not horses or cows. They're bigger for one thing. Big furry fellers, with beards. They don't talk much and every now and then they take it into their heads to herd up and run as fast as they can.”

Anton nodded. “You're right. That sounds dangerous.” They were approaching the wooden building. It was nearly dawn and no one, man or beast, was out and about except for the small gray cat and his new friend the ferret. Anton noticed a ladder leaning at one end of the building, leading up to the flat porch roof that extended over the platform. “That looks like a safe bet,” he said.

“What's that?”

“I can run up that ladder and sleep on the roof. Then I'll be able to see everything and nothing will see me.”

“That's a durned good idea. You're as smart as they come,” said Gotcha. “I never seen an animal with wits like you got. It's no surprise yer out here where you never been before.”

But Anton was thinking that it was very surprising he was here. For a moment he had to remind himself how he'd gotten this far from home and why. He didn't enjoy adventure the way Cecil did, but it was interesting how different one place was from another. Gotcha said good night, though it was morning, and slunk off into the grass, heading for his burrow in the low brush at the foot of the hills. Anton watched him until he was out of sight and then leaped up the ladder and strolled along the roof looking out at the view. It was a pleasant enough sleeping spot, with a light breeze cooling the air. And it was perfectly safe, as no one on the ground could see him unless he approached the edges. He curled up near the back wall, thinking about the oversized kittens. How huge their mother was. How awkward and funny they were—like Clive when he was just learning to hunt. And thinking of kittens, Anton drifted into a deep sleep.

When he woke the sun was blazing into his eyes and the tin roof beneath his paws was heating up fast. Stranger still was the sense he had that it was moving, not just the roof, but the whole building, the whole world. There was a pulsing in the air and a sound, distant but definitely coming closer, like rolling thunder in the midst of a storm. Could the train be coming in? Anton got up to have a look down the track. There was a cloud of some sort, well past the track and wider than any train could produce. It looked as though the grass must be on fire, burning a wide swath and sending up a steady current of pale brown smoke.

The sound grew more intense and made the fur on Anton's neck stand up. He crouched low and saw that there was something under the cloud, something with many, many hooves. It was just as Gotcha had warned him, and as the herd approached, Anton was heartily thankful he hadn't gone to sleep in the grass. The bison were coming at a breakneck pace. In a few moments, Anton made out the animals in the front, their huge brown heads lowered, their hooves driving in relentless unison. Soon they were passing the station and he could see them clearly, their humped-up backs and shaggy coats. It was quite a show, and Anton had a very good seat. For what seemed a long time the bison herd roared onward, rank on rank, like waves rolling against the side of a ship. At last they thinned out a bit, the slower animals, perhaps the oldest and the youngest, bringing up the rear. Anton noticed something odd about one bison in particular—he was running hard, just like the others, but he held his back oddly. Then Anton realized that it wasn't his back but something
on
his back. Something black and furry. Something with a tail. Anton stood up high on his toes, riveted to the sight.

Then he let out a cry.
CECIL?

It was Cecil, riding on the back of a furiously galloping bison.

CECIL!
Anton felt his heart racing with fear. What could he do? Then, as Anton stood helplessly watching, a small bison running next to the one carrying Cecil missed a step and came down hard on his side, knocking into the heels of Cecil's bison and causing it to lurch. Cecil was thrown free of his mount—Anton saw his brother spring up, and fall down, out of sight. The downed bison staggered to his feet, snorting and stamping, then, without looking back, lumbered on to catch up with his fellows. Anton rushed to the ladder and sprinted down to the ground. Keeping one eye on the receding herd and the other on the spot where he had seen his brother fall, he dashed into the grass.

The grass was deep just beyond the tracks, but Anton pushed through it and then it flattened out before him, a wide plain, hammered to damp mush by the furious hooves of the bison. In the midst of it he could see Cecil, lying on his side, not moving. Terror struck him and he called out, “Cecil!”

Cecil lifted his head, then dropped it back down again with a yowl of pain.

He's hurt,
thought Anton, breaking into a run.
Oh, why did we come out to this crazy place?

By the time Anton reached his brother's side, Cecil was trying to sit up, groaning as he did. “Oh, my leg,” he said. “Great cats, that hurts.”

“What did you do?” Anton said, bumping noses and passing a paw over Cecil's shoulder.

“It's my back leg. I'm afraid to look at it.” He shifted his weight and rolled back down, exposing the leg he'd landed on.

Anton let out a gasp. The flesh was torn from Cecil's hip to his hock and the wound was bleeding profusely. “This is terrible,” he said. “What are we going to do?”

At that moment, they heard a high-pitched shout and looked up to see a large cat-like creature barreling toward them across the matted grass at high speed.

“Are you all right?” the animal called as it came to a skidding halt before the startled brothers. “I saw you fall from over there. You were riding on a bison. I've never seen a sight like that in all my days!”

This cat was three times the size of Cecil. It had large, pointy, tufted ears and a thick, spotted coat, big, plush feet, and, strangest of all, a short, stiff-looking tail.
Just like those baby lynxes I saw with Gotcha,
Anton thought nervously.

“You're the tiniest cats I've ever seen,” the marvelous-looking creature remarked. It gazed at Anton for a moment. “You're Anton, aren't you?”

Anton's mouth went dry. Was this the momma lynx? Would she still be angry about the cubs? Anton tried to shift attention to his brother. “Yes. And this is Cecil. He's hurt.”

“I'm Katya,” the cat said. “My sister told me that you saved her cubs from a rattler, and I'm very grateful. Perhaps I can return the favor.” Anton let out a small sigh of relief, nodding politely to her and ignoring Cecil's questioning glance.

Katya stepped over to look at Cecil's leg. “I'm not surprised you're injured,” she said. “That was quite a fall. Can you stand up?”

“I'll give it a try,” Cecil said, and he pulled himself, groaning, to his feet.

“Try taking just a few steps,” Katya said.

Anton felt his throat tighten. Something about Katya reminded him of his mother, Sonya. She seemed to know just what to do.

Cecil took one or two steps, then sat down. “I can walk,” he said. “But it sure hurts.”

“It's not broken,” Katya concluded. “But you've lost a lot of blood, so you're very weak.”

“This is awful!” Anton exclaimed.

“Are you his friend?” she asked Anton.

“I'm his brother. We came out here on the train and we don't know a soul. What can we do?”

Katya stared at Anton. “You rode the black screamer? Goodness.” She looked from him to Cecil. “Do you know much about humans?”

Cecil nodded. “A little. We knew some nice ones and some not so nice where we came from.”

“Well, it's the same here. There are some that I know about who might help Cecil. They move around a lot, but they spend summers just beyond that line of trees over there.” Katya pointed and the brothers looked at each other. It wasn't too far, and it was flat all the way. “You can lean on your brother and we'll go slowly. There's water there, too.”

“How do you know they'll help us?” Cecil asked.

“When I was young, I got hurt pretty badly, and one of them found me nearly dead. He was just a child, but he took good care of me and had some medicine that healed me fast. I'm not afraid of them and they respect me, so if I go with you, I think they'll bind up Cecil's wound and stop the bleeding.”

Cecil took a few steps with his head hung low, leaning heavily against Anton.

“That's a brave fellow,” Katya said, and she came up on his other side. Between them Anton and Katya supported Cecil and they began a slow progress across the field. Katya glanced once more at the brothers. “One rides in on a train, the other on a bison,” she marveled, smiling. “You give cats a good name.”

CHAPTER 10

Whale Out of Water

O
ut on the plains in the midday sun, the air began to heat and thicken. The pace of the three cats, two small and one large, was painfully slow. As Cecil limped alongside, Anton couldn't resist asking him how he'd come to be on the back of a bison.

Cecil shrugged a little. “I needed a ride,” he said simply. “It was a long way over here.”

Katya chuckled while Anton pressed further. “But they're so huge! Weren't you afraid?”

Cecil considered this. “Nope. After the coyotes, the bison were no big deal.” He didn't mention hiding up in the tree when the herd first stormed in.

“The coyotes?” cried Anton, turning to his brother.

“Mmm-hmmm,” said Cecil as he hopped on his good back leg, wincing a bit. “I met one face-to-face, and I can say for sure that I don't ever want to meet another.”

Katya nodded and clucked her tongue. “Amen to that. You're lucky you got away. Not many do.”

Anton's mouth still hung open. “How
did
you get away?”

“Funny story,” said Cecil, grinning at the memory. “Actually, it was the prairie dogs who saved me.”

“Dogs?” gasped Anton. “There were dogs out there? Like Willy?”

“Not exactly. I'll fill you in later, and I want to hear about that rattler, too.” Cecil gave his brother a wink as they finally neared the line of trees.

Moving carefully through the grove, the cats emerged into a field and stopped to take in the sight. It was a village, busy with humans and animals moving about, but not like any village Anton and Cecil had ever seen. The houses were tall and narrow like the lighthouse back home, but these were made of long branches tilted together at the top and wrapped in large folds of what looked like sailcloth. The humans had straight black fur on their heads that was tied into thick bunches with cords, and they wore flowing clothes and soft shoes. The cats spotted horses, chickens, and goats in penned areas. Dogs and lots of younger humans ran around loose, and tiny faces peeked out of blankets as they were carried on the backs of others who were full-grown.

“Are you sure about this, Katya?” asked Anton, eyeing all of the commotion. “I don't see any other cats in this place.”

“Cats here are wild, not penned like these creatures,” explained Katya. “Sometimes the humans help us, and in return we don't hurt them, and that's enough for us. Horses and dogs have made a different bargain. They work for the humans and live among them, and in exchange they are assured food and shelter.” She turned to Anton. “Okay, stay back for a moment, will you? Come with me, Cecil.” She walked slowly, Cecil staggering at her side, toward an open area where a group of young people had formed a circle and were tossing stones at a log in the center. One boy noticed Katya and Cecil and broke from the circle to approach the cats. He pulled a strip of something brown and stiff from his pocket and set it on the ground, then backed up.

Anton watched as Katya stepped forward and took the offering, which smelled salty and smoky, and carried it in her mouth back to Cecil, who snapped it up ravenously. Katya turned, looking at the boy, then moved away from Cecil. The boy caught sight of the blood on Cecil's flank and approached him slowly with another thick strip held out in his hand.
That's certainly the way to my brother's heart,
thought Anton.

All at once Cecil, exhausted and weak from his injury, crumpled to the ground and lay still. Anton gasped, but he could see Cecil's golden eyes were still open and watching Katya. The boy moved carefully to pick Cecil up, and Katya nodded reassuringly to Cecil. The boy carried Cecil in both arms, pressing the bulky cat against his chest, and disappeared into the nearest sailcloth house. Anton's heart squeezed as he stood looking at the closed flap, helpless.

“You're absolutely sure this is okay?” he asked Katya again when she rejoined him.

“I think so,” she replied, “though it may take some time.”

Anton took a big breath and let it out slowly.
How much time do we have?
he wondered, thinking of Cecil and of Hieronymus, trapped somewhere and in danger.

“You must be hungry,” said Katya. “Come on, I know where we can find some tasty lizards.”

“Lizards?” said Anton. “To eat?”

“Or mice, if you prefer.”

“Mice!” gasped Anton. “Not mice either.”

“Goodness, you're particular, aren't you?” said Katya. “Well, beetles, spiders, bats . . . We'll find you something.” She turned and trotted away. Anton followed reluctantly. He hated to leave Cecil, but there was nothing to do but wait, and he
was
hungry. He took one last look back at the village where his injured brother was hidden from view, then hurried after the lynx.
Beetles, ugh
.

Katya lived in a small cave in the rocky hillside behind the town where the train had come in. She let Anton stay there while he waited for Cecil to recover, and for two days she showed him the ways of this strange new land. Katya hunted at night and Anton closed his eyes and ate whatever she brought back, which he found unsettling. He quickly learned the smells and sounds of the burrowing owls, foxes, and jackrabbits, the rasping scratch of rattlesnakes, and the skittering of scorpions. Late one night as he was drifting to sleep, Anton's ears pricked up to a long soulful howl in the distance. The sound made the fur on his tail stand on end. Katya appeared suddenly from over a nearby rise.

“
That's
a coyote,” she called across to him softly. “We'd better head back to the cave.”

If a cat as big as Katya is afraid of them,
Anton thought,
they must be nasty indeed
.

Each morning the two cats visited the village to look for any sign of Cecil. The boy who had taken him was usually outside with the rest of the smaller humans, but Cecil was not. They assumed he was still inside one of the houses, hopefully on the mend.

On the third morning Katya and Anton approached the village to find everything in motion. Humans doused the fires and packed the cooking tools into bundles, loading them in bags hanging from the sides of horses or onto the carts roped behind them. The men unwrapped the sailcloth from the long branches of the houses and corralled the animals, while the women set the children on horseback or into wagons. Cecil was nowhere to be seen.

“What's happening?” asked Anton, alarmed.

“It's as I told you,” said Katya. “They move around a lot, and today must be moving day. Come on, we have to find your brother.”

They hurried around the edge of the settlement, trying to avoid being seen while searching for Cecil. Anton worried that he'd already left and was out on the prairie looking for them, or worse—that he had not recovered after all. A panic rose in Anton's belly as he turned every which way in confusion.

“Anton,” said Katya anxiously. “I see him.”

Anton whirled to find Cecil, up on all four legs and walking without a limp next to the boy who had carried him away. He let out a cry of relief until he saw why Katya sounded concerned. Every few steps Cecil stopped cold, digging into the dirt and twisting his body. Then he was dragged forward again, and Anton saw why. Clutched in the boy's hand was the end of a length of cord that trailed down along his side, the other end tied around Cecil's neck. Anton couldn't believe it—Cecil had been captured by the boy. He was a pet!

“Oh, cat's whiskers!” said Anton.

“I know!” said Katya. “Don't worry, we'll get him.”

Cecil and the boy were at the very back of the group now proceeding away from the site, and Anton and Katya sprinted to catch up with them on the dirt path. The boy bent down repeatedly, trying to stroke Cecil's head and speaking softly to him, but Cecil only balked and struggled further. As the boy continued to pull, Cecil flattened himself to the dirt and dug in his claws, scratching along the ground and grasping at any stone or root he could reach. Finally, the boy stopped and sighed. He looked down the path behind Cecil, where Katya and Anton stood a few yards away, staring directly at him. The boy's eyes widened.

Cecil lifted his head, sniffing the air with recognition. “Oh, hey guys!” he called, his voice rough. “Nice of you to show up.”

“Are you okay?” asked Anton.

“I've been better,” said Cecil, managing a grin despite the cord around his neck. “Katya, please do something about this friend of yours.”

“I will,” she said, watching the boy, who stood transfixed. “Though I hate to frighten him . . .”

“You hate to frighten
him
?” gasped Cecil. “What about me? I'm tied up like a dog!”

“He
saved
you, remember?” said Katya, frowning. Then she took a breath, bared her pointed teeth, and let out a deep snarl from her chest. Both smaller cats flinched at the sound, and the boy yelped and dropped the cord. Katya's growl instantly caught the attention of some older humans ahead, who turned and yelled, rushing toward them, a few with pointed sticks held high and aimed low.

“Run!” shouted Anton.

“Sorry!” Katya called to the boy.

“And thanks!” yelled Cecil, bounding out of reach.

The three cats flew across the former village site in long, leaping strides, though Cecil lagged a bit due to the trailing cord entangling his paws. At a safe distance, the cats turned to check if they were being followed, but they were not. The villagers watched them go, then continued on with their move to a new part of the prairie, and the cats trotted back to Katya's home in the caves.

With Anton and Katya both chewing and pulling, they managed to remove the cord from Cecil's neck. After they'd had a thorough cleaning, plenty of fresh water, and a decent meal, Anton and Cecil lay near the cave entrance looking up at the stars while Katya was out hunting. They told each other the stories of what had happened since they were separated, and then were quiet for a while, each thinking his own thoughts and listening to the night.

“I can see Hunter's Claw from here,” said Cecil, pointing a paw at a cluster of stars in the sky. “And Twin Whiskers over there. They're the same whether we're at home or at sea or here.”

Anton flicked his tail against the rock. “Maybe. But so much else is different.”

“Like, say, the lack of water?” asked Cecil.

“Yes,” said Anton, suddenly struck with homesickness. “No ocean. No ships. No sailors. No fish. I really miss all of it.”

“Yeah,” agreed Cecil. “It's strange out here. I'll give you that.”

“And now you've gotten hurt, and we're in constant danger, and we are no closer to finding Hieronymus.” Anton let out a slow breath. “I wonder if we should just . . .” He didn't finish.

Cecil turned to look at his brother. “Go home?”

“I don't know,” said Anton quietly. “Maybe. Who knows if we can even go back the way we came?”

Cecil chuckled. “Who knows, indeed.”