Thane didn’t remember smelling any of this, but he kept running. Surely the tunnel was close by.
“Thane?” said Rusty. “The cubs need a rest.”
He nodded, swerving to gather them under the crown of a large tree. Fox, raccoon, and hoglet bent over, bracing themselves on their knees, sucking in air.
Thane sheathed his sword and leapt up into the tree. He climbed to the top, stuck his head above the branches.
“Zeke!” cried Simon, skidding to a halt. “He’s fainted!” He dodged back, grabbed the possum’s limp form, then caught up to Thane again.
“Poor chap, must have thought we were out to eat him.” Thane sniffed the air. “They’re just ahead—and hey presto, they’re almost at the tunnel. Fellows, it’s us!” he called.
Zeke wheezed and panted, tearing through the underbrush. His new shiny bounced up and down on his neck. Hard to believe a bear could move so fast, even with a groggy hoglet riding his broad shoulders. Zeke had stumbled a couple times and his hoglet, the older one, had had to help him stay upright. The hoglet was racing ahead of him now, spines bouncing.
But at least being behind meant he knew where Rusty and the raccoon kit were. The pair of red and striped tails were easier to keep track of in the dense forest where branches tore at sleeves and roots tripped tender paws.
He had no idea where they’d wind up, just that the bear had crashed out of the forest during their flight, had bellowed, “Follow me!” and everyone had obeyed.
Lucky for them the bear had waited up while Zeke got the hoglet free of the raspberry briars. And that Rusty’s scream-singing—which he’d only heard before in pubs—could stop a bane dead in its tracks.
Too bad the bear can’t cast or fight for us anymore. Zeke had glimpsed the bear’s blistered paws, noted the war club idle on his back, and figured that must be why even the mighty warmage had turned tail with them.
A branch grabbed Zeke’s sleeve. He punched his shoulder forward, tearing his shirt but not breaking pace.
And I don’t have any more shirts in this color!
Assuming he survived, Zeke was going to make four new—no, scratch that. He was going to hire a tailor to make him four new shirts, in this color. He’d always wanted to have a bespoke shirt, but something had always gotten in the way before.
Stupid stuff. His tongue lolled. You gotta do what you want while you’re still alive to enjoy it!
He stepped on a slimy mushroom and slipped. He floundered, arms circling in the air, but didn’t fall. Glancing back behind him, he noticed a nearby stand of mushrooms, well picked-over.
Didn’t I harvest those earlier? Where was the bear taking them?
Behind him, the bane screamed. That was enough to send ice up the possum’s heart, but then he heard a rustling coming up beside him. It was coming up FAST.
The panic almost made him sick. What could that be? That crazy baroness? What kind of nasty tricks would she have in store for them?
The rustling crashed in his ears. It was upon him. This was it. He’d been caught! HE WAS GOING TO DIE!
His vision narrowed. Black edged in, and then the possum dropped to the ground.
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For previous chapters, click the tag “Heroes of Houndsmouth“; older chapters are towards the bottom.
You might also like to watch this four minute video because it shows off more special possum talents.
They followed the trail of dying plants, dodging tree limbs that creaked and fell onto the carpet of blackened leaves preceeding them. Equipment jounced against Simon’s narrow haunches, but he never flagged.
Simon checked over his shoulder. Rusty had already fled. Nubine had stopped trying to scrabble up the smooth spire and had turned to them, back against the wall.
Thane and Simon surrounded her. The smell of smoke on the air was getting stronger. Their shadows lay hazily over the ferret, outlined in orange.
“Don’t get too close. She could bite,” said Thane in an undertone. He picked up the torn band of Rusty’s skirt, which had fallen on the grass during the ferret’s struggle to climb.
“Come quietly,” said Thane. “You are no empty-headed bane; the lives of the people of Houndsmouth are at your feet. You must be brought before justice.” He held up the torn fabric. “You will be muzzled.”
A strange sight met Thane, Brun, and Simon as they came up the hill. Baroness Nubine was at the top of the hill, weaving and jumping about in a weaselly war dance. She paused a second to gulp down more of the cursed wine. She hadn’t seen the wolves and bear behind her yet. They ducked low to hide in the grass, watching.
Rusty, Zeke, and the cubs were over the hill, backs to a sheer spire of stones they hadn’t seen on the way in. They were throwing rocks at the baroness, except for Naomi, who whipped them out of Zeke’s bird-hunting sling.
She’s not a bad shot, either, thought Thane. She knows how to lead her target!
One shot looked like it would land for certain, blurring straight for the ferret, right between her eyes. But a foot or so before it landed, green shimmering light flashed in the inferno-lit night, and the rock ricocheted off it.
It wasn’t the most unfair fight Thane had ever been in, but it was in the top five. The worst three, of course, were always instigated by his sister River. But she was a dirty cheat who always surprised you with an arrow across your nose. At least they’d been clan-regulated bouts, so she hadn’t wound up killing him. Or vice-versa.
The bear’s scars flashed like yellow lightning every time he cast a spell, briefly illuminating the shadowy limbs of the villagers. The Rotted villagers squealed and cowered under each attack, but they were still crawling out of the well.
Thane and Simon couldn’t keep up; their numbers were too great. And though the moonlight strengthened a few of the Wyld spells, the bear was beginning to flag.
“We have to even the odds!” said Thane, striking down a rangey skunk who had latched on to Simon’s staff with his teeth.
It was hard lugging the equipment in the dark through the village streets. Harder still when the maned wolf was in a hurry, and extraordinarily difficult when he had to shorten his stride to accommodate the blind rat.
But without him, Simon supposed the raccoon kit would have been in no shape to travel, so he refused to complain.
Moonlight had shown Simon the moment when Zeke and Rusty had turned off the main thoroughfare—heading for the edge of the village and hopefully getting the cubs to the hillside more quickly. He’d seen the moonlight flash silvery on Rusty’s great tail as she made the turn, and then it was just him and the rat, stumbling along forward.
Perhaps by the time we arrive, Thane and Brun will be finished with her, thought Simon. Then the village doesn’t have to burn. Though it was dark, he could imagine the different designs carved on all the wooden doors they were passing by, like his own hometown. What would it do to the cubs if they lost their friends, family, and home?
The prince of the wolf clan kicked in the schoolhouse door. His sword was held at the ready.
“UNHAND THAT CUB!”
Moving so fast she was a blur, the ferret grabbed the older cubs and pulled them in front of her just as Rusty, Simon, and Zeke burst in around him. Her back was to the fireplace.
The ferret hissed. “Who are you?”
Darby the hoglet was too stunned to say anything, but Naomi struggled against in her captor’s arm. “Rusty, help!”
The ferret balled her fists and struck Naomi in the head, twisting her body to bring extra force to the blow. The thud of the impact was sickening. The cub’s head lolled and she moaned.
Rusty saw red a moment, then bared her sharp white teeth.
“Nobody hits my fans!”
She dove for the ferret.
