Over the Darkened Landscape - By Derryl Murphy Page 0,55

Michael imagined must be Chester Pond. On one side there was a large low building, a few lights shining inside and out, vaguely institutional and threatening. Overhead, street lamps buzzed urgently, and moths and other insects circled them in large, swinging arcs, sometimes coming close enough to slam into one before bouncing off with a frustrated flurry of wings. Nearby, a car alarm sounded, and then Clem’s howling joined the city’s night time chorus.

“Last time to read, Michael,” said James. “We’re almost home.”

“Cassie Beaver Builds a New Home,” read Michael. “Nobody ever expected that a flood at Happy Lake would get the best of Cassie Beaver, but one year it did.”

Again the book jumped in Michael’s hands, and again there came a tearing sound, and Cassie Beaver unfolded before his eyes. “Lead us to Willy, Cassie,” said Culpepper. A second or two later they were back on the hill overlooking the lake, and after one quick glance behind them, James Jackrabbit nodded his head and they were running and hopping down towards the lake and the fire.

Halfway down Clem howled, practically in their ears. All the animals froze, a beat ahead of Michael, and then Old Lightning roared, and Michael heard the shot slice through the air, barely above his head. James turned and looked at the rest, then took Michael’s hand. “Write me a good story some day,” he said, and with a shake of his tail he raced off towards Farmer Godfrey and Clem.

“No!” shouted Culpepper Frog, but Randall Grizzly growled and jumped in his way, kept Culpepper from chasing after James.

Two more shots were fired, and Clem howled again. “The young master comes first,” growled the big bear.

They carried on down the rest of the hill, quiet and somber now, and stopped when Culpepper raised his hand, the fire and the lake on the other side of a small grove of trees. The mammals in the group sniffed at the air, but Randall shook his head. “Nothing but smoke,” he said.

“I’ll go,” said Cameron Crow, and with a flap of his wings he launched himself into the air, circled their group twice before he disappeared over the tree tops.

There was silence for a few seconds, and then came a loud squawk, followed by laughter, and then a child’s voice rose up out of the night. “The rest of you should quit skulking about in the dark and come join me.”

All the animals froze for just a fraction of a second, and then with roars and squeals and cheers they rushed through the trees, catching Michael by surprise. He ran after them, and came out of the woods onto the rocky shore of Happy Lake, a comfortable and welcoming campfire placed carefully in the middle of a circle of several old logs, a young boy sitting on one of the logs, Cameron Crow perched on the boy’s knee and the other animals gathered around the boy, jumping and chattering excitedly.

The boy, no older than eight or nine, looked up at Michael with a smile. “You brought back my friends,” he said. “Thank you.”

Michael sat on a log on the opposite side of the fire. “You’re welcome. You must be Willy.”

The boy smiled and nodded. “I am.” He leaned forward and enfolded Cassie Beaver in a tight hug, buried his face in her fur. “I’m sorry I ever let you guys go.” He looked around at the rest of them. “Where’s everybody else?”

All the faces turned sober. “Most of ’em are back in the book,” said Culpepper Frog. “Except for Clem and Farmer Godfrey, who’re chasin’ after us.”

“Most of them?” Willy stood up and walked over to Miranda Whitetail. “He got you with Old Lightning?”

She nodded, tears in her eyes. “He got James, too,” she said, barely a whisper. “I don’t think he’s coming back.”

Willy closed his eyes, pain written on his face. But when he opened them again, he smiled. “He’ll come back, girl, don’t you worry. He’ll find us or we’ll find him.” He stroked her neck, then looked around at the other animals. “Who brought you all here?”

“I did,” said Cassie Beaver. She stepped forward, and Willy reached down and scratched her behind the ears.

Willy turned to Michael. “Read her back into the book for me, will you?”

Michael pulled out the book and turned to the last page of Cassie’s story. “It was a fine home, as beautiful as any other in the Green Green Woods, and the next time a flood came to Happy Lake,