The Prince Who Fell From the Sky (7 page)

When she reached Dumpster, she saw they were standing on one of those paths, but one much bigger than any she’d seen before. Toward the setting sun, side-by-side trails of broken rock disappeared into the
Forest, each path as wide as a river. Surveying the other direction, Casseomae was amazed to see that the twin paths rose above the treetops.

The rat scampered around the decaying relics, sniffing furiously as he climbed up the slope. Casseomae hesitated, having never been above the trees. When she caught up with the rat, he was at a place where the Skinless’s path had collapsed. The path resumed a short distance away across a gap. The child lay on his belly to peer down over the broken edge at the debris and giant slabs lying in the Forest below.

“What is this thing?” Casseomae said.

“This, my mossy-brained bear, is a highway,” Dumpster said.

Casseomae snorted. “The name fits. It certainly is high.”

The child cried out, his voice echoing across the landscape.

Dumpster said, “This is the way to go. Stormdrain would want to follow a highway. A little piece of the city out here in the Forest, you see.”

“Well, we can’t go over the edge,” Casseomae said.

“Course not, mushroom brain. Get the pup.” He scampered back the way they’d come.

At the bottom of the hill, they turned and traveled beside it until they’d passed the hole in the highway above. After a time, the path descended until it rejoined
the Forest floor. In places it was consumed by vegetation and earth.

All along the way there were rusted and vine-strangled relics. The child touched their frames curiously as he passed them. “What did the Skinless Ones use these relics for?” Casseomae asked.

Dumpster twitched his whiskers importantly. “For moving around. Sort of like that passering starship the cub came down in, except these cars only went on the ground. That’s why they made highways.”

Casseomae considered this. “Why? Couldn’t they walk?”

The rat gave an amused squeak. “Well, of course they could walk. Look at that pup there. He walks. But he’s only got two feet. How do you expect him to move fast on two feet?”

“I’ve seen him run pretty fast,” Casseomae said.

“Cars helped them go even faster,” Dumpster said.

“Why were they in such a hurry?” Casseomae asked.

Dumpster scampered ahead. “Scratch if I know, old bear.”

They followed the highway as long shadows stretched down their path. Once the sun had set, Dumpster skittered to Casseomae’s side. “Hey, Cass, I smell something.”

“I smell it too,” she said. “Something follows us, but don’t—”

Dumpster spun around. The damage done, Casseomae looked back as well. She saw a shadow shift as a creature disappeared behind a rusted-out relic far down the highway.

“You see it?” Dumpster asked.

“Yeah,” Casseomae grunted as she started walking again. “I saw it.”

“Is it the cougar?”

“No, it’s not the cougar.”

Dumpster skittered in erratic leaps and scampers. “So what is it? Coyote?”

“Too big,” Casseomae said. “Probably a wolf.”

The child walked along, glancing curiously at a large sheet of metal that hung above the highway. Casseomae looked back over her shoulder, but the highway behind them was empty.

“Could be a scout,” she grunted. “We must have entered a pack’s territory.”

Casseomae slept uneasily that night. Every bird woke her. She paced around the sleeping child, catching the occasional waft of the canine scent. The creature had not moved on around them in the night as she had hoped but lurked out there in the darkness.

She settled near the child, who was splayed in the leaves in the most vulnerable of sleeping positions, on his back with his belly exposed. With her snout, she nudged him onto his side. He didn’t wake, but as he
curled up next to her he reached out to settle a hand on her forepaw. Casseomae licked at his fingers to soothe herself as much as the murmuring cub.

Strange. They were more similar than she would have thought. His fingers were in many ways like her claws. Not so powerful or deadly, but he could do agile things with those narrow fingers, just as she could pry open a mussel shell or tear off bark. And she and the cub both stood on their hind legs and could walk that way too. Wasn’t it odd that bears could do that when wolves and deer could not?

The Skinless Ones were ancient enemies of the Forest, but this little cub was so weak. He had none of the natural weapons given to the creatures of the Forest, no fangs or claws or antlers. He hadn’t even been able to smell the cougar and only realized it was there when it was already on him. She supposed it was their devices that had allowed the Skinless Ones to dominate the Forest. But the cub’s little device did nothing more than flash a surprising display of light. That would do little to protect him from the voras who would want him dead.

Casseomae’s concern for the cub made her restless. It made her want to keep moving, to flee, which was a strange and unfamiliar sensation for a bear. But the impulse to get the cub away from harm, to keep him safe, was some deep-down tug she couldn’t contain.

In the morning, Casseomae and Dumpster foraged as they traveled, and the child—never close enough to touch Casseomae but never more than a quick dash away—ate one of his lumps of food.

Casseomae found herself having to listen to Dumpster’s endless lectures on the artifacts and relics they passed: poles strung with wires that carried electricity to feed the Skinless Ones’ devices, billboards that had established territories along the highway like scent markings, gas stations for their vehicles to drink foul-smelling chemicals, and on and on.

She understood only the vaguest notions of what the rat was talking about, but she endured it all silently and kept a close eye on the cub as she smelled the creature following them.

By midday, they reached a creek, where the highway rose up again. Once, the highway had spanned the creek in what Dumpster called a bridge, but the bridge had long ago collapsed. As the child filled up his drinking device and Casseomae lapped at the cool water, the rat said, “We’re still being followed, aren’t we?”

A rumble of aggravation sounded from Casseomae’s throat. “What I want to do is hide the cub and go fight this scout once and for all. Get it off our tails.”

“The pup would never do that. He might keep his distance, but he’s been stuck to you like a briar since that cougar.”

“I know,” she growled. “And if I went back after this wolf, it would simply run away.”

“Only to bring back its pack,” Dumpster added. “But why hasn’t it done that already?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s a low ranker who wants to capture the cub and get rewarded. Either way, there’s only one reason I could guess why it hasn’t attacked yet. It waits for an advantage, a moment when I’ll leave the cub alone.”

Dumpster twitched his whiskers. “Then I scratchin’ suppose you’d better go ahead and do just that.”

Casseomae nodded. “Tonight, after the cub is asleep, I’ll move away from him … not too far, but enough to lure that wolf closer. You’ll have to help me keep watch.”

“Ugh, I’m barely getting any sleep as it is,” Dumpster complained. “Out here with all this … Forest. I miss my cozy sewer pipe back in the city.”

“Your what? No, never mind. My head can’t hold another new word.”

That evening they reached a place where the highway split and one part rose to curve around the other. Because the overpass had collapsed, it formed a sort of concrete cave underneath. With only one way in, Casseomae felt she would have no trouble smelling when the wolf arrived and defending the cub.

“Keep your nose high,” she reminded Dumpster as the child lay down to sleep.

The rat scrambled under a bit of rocky debris. Casseomae waited until the cub’s breathing grew heavy and then crawled up to the uppermost recess of the cave. It was cramped, but the narrow space, along with the peculiar odor of the cub, would mask her scent from anything outside. Once the wolf entered, she could easily descend upon it.

She waited with painful anticipation. Several times her eyelids grew heavy, but at the first sound of sniffing, she was awake, all her senses honed. The creature tramped on the highway overhead. For a moment Casseomae thought it had missed them entirely, but then the snuffling returned, and she heard the creature coming down through the brush.

Casseomae waited, letting the creature get closer. As it slunk through the entranceway, she realized something didn’t smell right. This wasn’t a wolf. But what sort of canine was it?

A sharp screech erupted, and a shadow flashed up from the ground at the intruder. The vora yelped and spun in circles. Whatever it was, Dumpster had locked on to its muzzle.

The child woke with a shout. Casseomae bounded down to block the cave entrance as the cub slid behind her. The creature shook its head until Dumpster came loose, flying over to land at Casseomae’s paws.

Casseomae peered through the shadows at the
cornered vora pacing back and forth. “What is it?” she asked the rat. “Can you tell?”

“Yeah, I can spittin’ tell. Got its Faithful stink all over my tongue.” Dumpster slashed his tail angrily. “Vilest of vile. Can’t you see, Cass? You’ve trapped a cur!”

T
he creature made to dash around her, but Casseomae swiped a paw. “Stop!”

Having come into the glow of the moonlight, the cur was visible now. Its coppery-red fur was shaggy and bramble-knotted. One ear was missing entirely. Flattening itself, the cur panted, “Pray, bear, let me pass. I mean you no harm.”

“Why are you following us, dog?” Casseomae demanded.

“I haven’t been following you.”

“Liar!” Dumpster squeaked. “We’ve smelled your stench for two days now.”

The dog bared his teeth at the child hiding behind Casseomae. “What is that? What is that creature?”

“Don’t even look at him,” Casseomae warned.

“It’s true!” The dog rose and stepped forward. “It’s one of the—”

Casseomae roared, raking her claws across the hard earth, sending the dog back.

“He’s here to take the pup,” Dumpster said. “Probably wants to offer him to the Ogeema as a tribute.”

“Why would I do that?” the dog barked.

“Tired of being despised by every vora in the Forest,” Dumpster said. “Desperate to win favor and make amends for the sins of your scratchin’ kind. Old bear, you know what you have to do.”

“Shut your squeaking, little mouse!” the dog snapped. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Mouse? Did you just call me a mouse?” Dumpster’s tail lashed furiously. “Oh, that’s it! I’m ripping off that other ear—”

Casseomae dropped a paw in front of Dumpster. “Stay where you are.”

“You don’t get it, Cass,” Dumpster cried. “That cur’s a Faithful. He’s just found his new master. He won’t stop until he can steal the pup away for his pack.”

“I have no pack,” the dog said bitterly.

Dumpster clicked his teeth. “Liar.”

“They were killed,” the dog said. “By the Ogeema’s guard. Only I survived. I have nothing left. Just let me go.”

“Don’t look for pity from us, cur.” Bristling his whiskers at Casseomae, Dumpster whispered, “He may not seem it, but that cur’s dangerous. My da always said,
‘Desperation makes killers of katydids.’
There’s no telling what he’ll do or when he’ll be back for the pup. Best finish him and rid ourselves of the worry.”

The dog dashed, but Casseomae cut him off again. The dog lowered his head, looking up at her with piteous eyes. “Please, let me pass. I mean no harm to any of you.”

Casseomae heard the desperation in the dog’s whine. He had to fight simply to stay alive, because his kind were hunted and despised by all the inhabitants of the Forest. This dog was an outcast. Casseomae knew what it meant to be an outcast.

She backed onto her haunches, opening a passage. “Go.”

Dumpster squeaked, “No, you idiot bear!”

She put her paw down on his tail, holding Dumpster in place as she addressed the dog. “But if I see you again, dog, I’ll figure you’re here to hurt the cub—”

“I’d never hurt a Companion!” the dog barked.

Casseomae glared at him. “Go before I let the rat loose on you.”

With a quick glance at the child huddling behind Casseomae, the dog scampered out from the cave with his tail tucked and disappeared into the night. The child
ran to the entranceway. He called out and then turned back to Casseomae, chirping rapidly.

“Probably mad we drove off his slave,” Dumpster mumbled.

“Come back in here, cub,” Casseomae said. She nudged him gently with her snout. The child stared out into the dark for a few moments before lying down.

Casseomae plopped to the ground, blocking the entrance.

As Dumpster shuffled under the debris, he said, “I’ve got a bad feeling that cur will be back.”

T
hey traveled along the highway through the morning with no scent or sign to suggest that the dog was following them, but Casseomae could not get him from her thoughts.

A Companion. That’s what the dog had called the cub. Before the rat and the cub, she’d never known what it was to have companions. Except for the spring feasting, the fall matings, and her time spent rearing Alioth many summers ago, she had lived a solitary life.

Bears did not enjoy the tribal companionship that viands like deer and rabbits shared. But the dog was not so different from the wolves or coyotes, who stuck together in packs. With his pack killed, did the dog think he could form a new one with the cub?

“Why are the curs considered the Faithful?” she asked Dumpster.

The child was ahead of them, swinging a thin metal stick he had broken from a car and hopping around like a frog from one side of the highway to the other.

Dumpster trotted beside Casseomae. “Because they served the Old Devils.”

“I know that,” she grunted. “But I’ve heard that hogs, for instance, were servants to the Skinless Ones back in those days. They’re not hated like curs or even called Faithful.”

“It’s different,” Dumpster said. “Those clans were captives. They were slaughtered for meat. But curs lived
with
their Skinless masters. They ate their food. They helped the Skinless hunt the rest of us down.”