The Prince Who Fell From the Sky by John Claude Bemis Read Free Book Online

jaws. As the child began to come toward her, she added, “But it seems he understands food.”
    Dumpster trotted beside her. “I told you he would.”

CHAPTER NINE
    A s long shadows fell, Casseomae and Dumpster led the child away from the meadow with the setting sun at their backs, toward the borders of the Ogeema’s territory. At first, the child chirped incessantly at her and even tried to tug the case from her mouth. When frustration drove the child to sit on the ground, Casseomae gave him another packet. After eating, the child followed them again. Little by little, they made their way deeper into the Forest.
    Casseomae was surprised by how much difficulty the child had simply walking. Vines snagged his arms and legs. Logs and fallen branches seemed intent on stumbling him. She’d never seen a creature move more awkwardly through underbrush. It was as if the Forest wastrying to prevent the child’s journey … and Casseomae half-wondered if the Forest really was.
    The child had an unreasonable fear of everyday noises. When a chorus of cicadas rose up, the child looked around in panic. If a tree frog croaked or a blue jay called, the child leaped in fright. A squirrel caused him to shriek as if he had fallen into a nest of timber rattlers.
    After a few hours of chirping piteously for food and battling every spiderweb and leaf that tickled his head, the child calmed somewhat. They covered little ground that first day.
    It was late in the night before Casseomae decided to stop. “I can’t carry this wretched-tasting thing one more step.”
    “The pup is asleep on his feet anyway,” Dumpster said. “We’d better let him rest.”
    Casseomae placed the container next to the child, offering him another meal, but the cub was already curling up in the leaves. Within moments, he was asleep.
    “You’ll keep your nose up?” Dumpster said wearily.
    “Yes,” she said. “I’ll know if anything comes near. You get some sleep.”
    Dumpster dug out a little den in the leaf mold. Casseomae foraged for a bit before joining them in sleep. When she woke in the morning, the child was already awake, adjusting the pouches around his waist. He watched Casseomae from the corners of his eyes.
    She stood and stretched, calling, “Rat, you ready to go?”
    Dumpster emerged from the damp leaves, blinking at the bright light.
    Casseomae loped over to the container of food and bit down. It came up much too easily. She dropped it.
    “What’s the matter?” Dumpster asked, digging out beetles from a rotten log.
    “It’s lighter,” Casseomae grunted.
    The rat dashed to the box and slipped his head inside. “It’s scratchin’ empty!”
    They looked at the child.
    “Does that pup look fatter?” Dumpster asked.
    “He couldn’t have eaten them all already,” Casseomae said.
    “He didn’t. He’s got them hoarded away in his pouches.”
    Casseomae bumped her nose against the child’s side. She felt stiff lumps and heard plastic crinkling. The child swatted at her and dashed several strides away, making funny noises in her direction.
    “What do we do now?” Casseomae asked.
    “That bare-nosed sneak can go lick himself for all I care.” Dumpster snapped his tail in aggravation. “Either he comes with us or he doesn’t. I’m just ready to keep going.”
    “How do you figure we’ll get him to follow?”
    “Why do I have to come up with all the spittin’ ideas?” the rat complained.
    Casseomae lumbered toward the child. “Come on, now.”
    “He doesn’t speak Vorago, acorn brain,” Dumpster called.
    Casseomae nudged the child with her nose, urging him to walk. But the child ran in circles, turning her attempts into a game of chase.
    Dumpster watched in near disbelief. “You look like a pair of half-wit curs.”
    As the child swooped past her, Casseomae caught him by the tuft of material between his shoulder blades. The child flailed, crying out angrily, but Casseomae held tight.
    She strode past the wide-eyed