Teddycats Read online

  But during those hours he’d spent in the brush, thinking he was going to get kicked out for hurting a fellow Teddycat, he had tried to prepare himself for a whole new life.

  Bill used to think that day in the brush was the absolute worst he could ever feel.

  He wished he still believed that.

  And just when he thought things couldn’t get any worse, Omar approached. He wore a disappointed pout. Bill eyed him warily, but he was in no position to lash out. The space between them was clammy and clumsy with unspoken aggression.

  “You really let us down today, Bill,” Omar finally said, shaking his head. “You really let all of us down big-time.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Bill, through gritted teeth.

  “What are you going to do now? Where are you going to live?”

  Bill stood up. They were snout-to-snout, and Omar didn’t back down. He was definitely feeling more confident than he had the last time they spoke. And he definitely knew that Bill couldn’t afford to look cruel or reckless right now. Bill glanced over at his parents, who were still whispering with the Elders. Big Bill had taught him to stand up for himself, but he’d also warned him never to fight. But what should he do in times like these, when it seemed the only way to stand up for himself was to fight? This was the kind of question that drove Bill batty. But today it didn’t even matter. There was no way he could force Omar to see things another way, or even just shut him up.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” Bill said finally.

  “We’ll see about that,” Omar said through a pinched smile.

  6

  FINALLY, THE ELDERS spoke to the crowd. The scouts had been dispatched; their thoughts and prayers were with Elena and her family. The crowd dispersed, unsatisfied and still riled.

  Back at the den, Bill sat glumly with his mother. Neither spoke for a long time. Outside they could hear Big Bill puttering around, applying fresh mud to the walls. This was the way he always worked through his anger. The angrier he was, the more dangerous the job he would take on. The last time Bill really messed up (he’d helped himself to someone else’s garden), his father stayed on the roof of their den for almost two days, supposedly addressing a problem with the ventilation. Bill noticed that he always seemed to choose projects that were especially noisy. Bill would be curled up in his straw, feeling down, and the scrape and rip of his father’s efforts would echo endlessly through the den. There was no escape, nothing to do but wait until he was ready to scold his son.

  Bill started honing in on the very real, and very scary, possibility that his father might never speak to him again.

  He glanced longingly out to the lane and was startled to see Felix strolling past in a slow, creaky prowl. The jaguar stopped just outside the den and, locking eyes with Bill, beckoned him outside to the lane.

  Bill pointed at himself. “Me?” he said aloud.

  His mother raised her head and considered him curiously, and Bill shut his mouth and resumed his sad, silent repose. When Marisol got tired of staring him down, she rose and began to assemble dinner, and Bill managed another look outside. Felix was still out on the lane, still staring right at him. Bill looked over at his mother, her shoulder thrusting with each punishing downstroke. Those roots were going to be well mashed. Confident that she wouldn’t be able to hear him, Bill slipped out of the den and joined the jaguar down the lane.

  “Tough day, Bill?” Felix said. His voice was deep, his eyes wide and penetrating.

  “I guess I’m the worst Teddycat in the world,” Bill said.

  “Bad things happen to everyone,” Felix said. “It doesn’t mean they are deserved, or that it’s always somebody’s fault. Your parents, your friends, the Elders, they’re scared right now. They have been away from the jungle for a long time, and they aren’t ready to acknowledge just how easily this sort of thing can happen. They’re in shock. All they can focus on is the pain.”

  “And what about you?” Bill asked. “You can see through the pain?”

  Felix laughed gingerly. “I’m always in pain,” he said, clutching his side. “You get used to it. The trick is to stop looking for someone to blame and start looking for solutions.”

  “All I want to do is get Elena back,” Bill said. “That’s the only way I can fix this, get Maia’s forgiveness, and maybe save Cloud Kingdom from the humans.”

  “That’s a tall order,” Felix said, a hint of approval in his eyes. “What do you know about humans, Bill?”

  “Humans?” said Bill. He rubbed his chin. “Let’s see. Basic bipedal formation. Gangly appendages. Hair about the head . . . region.”

  “So, not too much,” said Felix.

  “Well, I know Joe, of course,” Bill said. “Dressed in stolen snakeskins and furs, mouth full of gold.”

  “Well, I’ve had some run-ins with humans over the years,” Felix said. “And I’ve found that, roughly, they can be divided into two camps. The first is a straight-ahead predator, here to wreak destruction for fun or profit. These types will burn down whole valleys just to smoke you out. They’re here for the tusks and the hides and whatever else they can sell. You understand?”

  “Sure,” Bill said. “That’s Joe.”

  “Right. Joe. Now, if Elena fell into one of his traps, well, I hate to say it, but she may be long gone by now. These Joe types don’t tend to stick around after they’ve snagged something. They want to get it back to their den so another human—a different kind, one that never ventures into the jungle—can tell them if it’s worth anything. But that doesn’t mean Elena’s lost forever. I’ve tracked my share of humans over the years, and the bad ones are especially sloppy about hiding their paths. So we could follow along and find their base. If we get there quickly enough, Elena might still be in her cage, a little frightened but no worse for wear.”

  Bill nodded. It sounded dangerous, almost thrilling, but more important, it sounded possible. “Wait,” he said. “What are the other types of humans?”

  “The others are a more . . . clinical sort,” said Felix. “It’s hard to explain. They don’t have the smoke and razzle of the bad set. Rather, they are methodical, with better equipment, which makes them harder to track.”

  “I don’t get it,” Bill said. “What do they want?”

  “My impression is that they want to study the jungle. Their intentions may be decent, but they are still powerful predators. And of course it’s impossible to know for sure what these creatures want.”

  Felix smiled and shifted his weight. His joints made an audible creak.

  “Listen, Bill. I love Cloud Kingdom. The Teddycats have been good to me. But you can’t run away from the jungle. There will always be something hunting you. That’s the way the world works. Sooner or later, the Teddycats will have to figure that out.”

  “Felix, do you know any Olingos?” Bill asked after a contemplative silence.

  “Several.”

  “They’re a good crew, the Olingos,” Bill said. “You met my friend Luke. The two of us are building a fort. There’s gonna be a swimming hole and everything. Well, there was gonna be one, before things got all messed up.”

  “The fort—is it another place to hide?”

  Bill thought about it for a moment.

  “I guess not,” he said finally. “When we first started work on it, maybe. But now I see it as a place to come together, if that makes sense.”

  “That makes perfect sense to me,” Felix said. “And it’s a goal worthy of much risk.”

  “Risk meaning . . . adventure?” Bill asked, lowering his voice.

  “In my experience,” Felix said, “the two often go hand in hand.”

  “So,” Bill said, immeasurably grateful to Felix for giving him a reason to feel more hopeful. “We need to figure out which kind of humans took Elena and track them back to their den.”

  “Yes,” said Felix. “And
hopefully before they figure out what they’ve got.”

  7

  BUT BACK IN the den, Bill realized that, despite the invigorating conversation with Felix, nothing had really changed.

  The Elders wouldn’t care what a jaguar had to say. He wasn’t a Teddycat. In fact, he was in debt to them. And there was still the matter of Big Bill, who had yet to speak so much as a single word to his son since Elena’s abduction.

  Bill curled up in his straw, plugged his ears, and watched the pall he had created stretch and settle across the Kingdom. He wished he could go to Diego Bribon, a sinewy Teddycat scout with a wild mane, a pink scar where his left eye used to be, and an allergy to authority, for advice. The Elders tolerated Diego’s salty disposition because he was an excellent scout and had most likely saved each of their lives at one time or another.

  Diego lived in a dilapidated bachelor’s den in the shady section of Cloud Kingdom. Sometimes, in the late afternoon, when he knew he could find Diego at home, whittling, Bill would pepper him with questions about the jungle. Diego was a warrior and, more than that, he was different from any other Teddycat Bill had ever known. Even Big Bill himself encouraged Bill’s fascination with Diego. The respect was obvious in Big Bill’s voice when he talked about Diego’s bravery and service over the years, and Bill knew better than just about anyone how hard it was to win the respect of his father.

  Unless it was an absolute emergency, it was best not to bother Diego before noon. But Bill knew he would be up and about today, having been sent out by the Elders to check the perimeter for signs of encroaching humans. He tried to shake off a descent into deeper doldrums by concentrating on a plan: He would wait until Diego returned, get his attention, and relay what Felix had told him. Surely there was no way such a seasoned scout would ignore valuable intelligence, even if it was from an outsider.

  Suddenly, a commotion cut through the heavy quiet, and for a brief moment, Bill’s heart flared with hope. They’d found Elena! But, no, it was just the rolling fireball of gossip accompanying the return of Diego and his partner, Jack, from their morning hitch.

  Bill flew out of the den, and Marisol didn’t try to stop him.

  The Fountain area was filled with huddles of skittish Teddycats waiting for Diego to finish briefing the Elders. Bill spotted Maia but was too ashamed to even seek her eye.

  Soon, a simple question started rippling through the crowd. Where was Jack?

  The Teddycats were on the verge of panic. They began to cry out, demanding answers.

  After what felt like far too long, Ramon, a hunchbacked Elder with a tangled gray beard, climbed the stone perch and signaled for silence. Diego stood beside him, steely and serious.

  “In light of recent events,” Ramon said, “we sent our scouts out early this morning to assess our security. The news they’ve brought back is not encouraging. A human attacked our scouts, capturing one. What’s more, the attack exposed a scout’s claw.”

  Diego’s wiry frame slumped into a downcast expression, and Bill knew that Jack must have been the one captured.

  “Our claws have long been symbols of our tenacity and perseverance,” Ramon said. “They are a testament to our willingness and ability to fight for survival in a dangerous world. We protect our claws with strict rules because they are so valuable and, therefore, dangerous. Based on what we have recently witnessed, it’s clear that our species, and our home and our way of life, is under attack. Therefore, the Elders have decided to place Cloud Kingdom on emergency lockdown, effective immediately. Please return to your dens and limit all noise and movement. We will share pertinent developments as they become available.”

  Ramon sighed.

  “Be safe, and bless Cloud Kingdom.”

  MAIA WAILED. Bill rushed over to her side. She was crumpled over and weeping. This was bad. A lockdown meant no more scouts or rescue parties. It also meant that the Elders had decided that losing Elena and Jack was an acceptable price for their communal safety. But sitting around silently and waiting didn’t seem like too sound a strategy to Bill, especially considering everything he’d learned from Felix. There was still so much about their situation they didn’t know! What humans did Diego and Jack encounter? Were they the same humans that took Elena? And was it humans that had driven the Teddycats out of Horizon Cove?

  But Bill had to put all that aside for the moment and focus on his friend.

  Maia was still weeping, but the sobs were dry. She was wrung out, exhausted, and depleted. “So much for the rescue party,” she said, resting her head on Bill’s shoulder. “I had my mind all made up to head down there no matter what. Now, even if I found Elena, I wouldn’t be allowed back home! How does that make any sense at all? How can they banish me just for risking my life to save another Teddycat? Explain that to me, Bill.”

  “I can’t explain it,” Bill said. “You’re right. It makes no sense.”

  He wanted to tell her that they had the same plan; that in a perfect world, they would go find Elena together and find a new place to live; that Cloud Kingdom felt shriveled up, its glory sapped, its physical beauty at jagged odds with the dour dread and fear that had seeped in and overtaken the place. Instead, he just let her rest.

  8

  EVENTUALLY, BILL WAS forced to leave Maia’s side. He was burrowed and therefore required back at home, where he chewed silently through a tense dinner with his parents, then dutifully retreated to his straw, where he curled up and drifted off into a fitful sleep.

  The nightmares arrived, breathless and frantic. Bill felt himself falling through an endless canopy, into a field filled with traps and cages with sharp, rusted teeth. He saw a faceless horde vaulting over the Wall with terrifying ease. He saw Cloud Kingdom on fire, heard yelps of pain as Joe and other shadowy human-like figures advanced through the ashes, and then—

  Bill woke with a start. He bolted upright, his claws bared and glinting. The moon was low in the sky, casting pale, insistent light across his straw. He imagined Maia awake across the Kingdom, too broken up to sleep. He imagined Elena and Jack behind bars, at the mercy of Joe. A thought pierced him: What if he were the one out there all alone? What if he had fallen into that trap, and his friends and family weren’t allowed to help?

  In the ghostly quiet Bill was hit with two undeniable truths: One, the lockdown was a tragic mistake, and two, he needed to do all he could to rescue the lost Teddycats. Consequences—doled out by the jungle, the humans, or the Elders—were beside the point.

  Bill assembled a quick bindle with dinner scraps and a lucky nub of petrified wood, and tied it to his tail. As he crept toward the exit, he heard his father’s snores reverberating through the den, filling it with a familiar feeling of warmth. He made a silent promise to return, then slipped out the door.

  As he set out, Bill realized he’d never descended from Cloud Kingdom in the dark before. He took it slowly, surprised at his own patience. His mind was clear; all the fear and anxiety that pricked at his dreams had been snubbed out by a newfound sense of purpose and the crisp night air. Mist from the waterfall beaded on Bill’s fur, which made crossing the Wind Tunnel all the more chilling. The usual scenic vistas were shrouded in darkness, leaving Bill one misstep away from the abyss. But he realized this had always been true, and pretending otherwise had led to many troubles.

  Bill rode a lava chute the last third of the way down. The jungle floor was eerily still, nary a rustle or hoot. Usually the tree frogs would be making a racket. Was it a human invasion that had caused this cease in activity, or was it just a slow night? Either way, he was relieved when he finally reached Luke’s den.

  “Psst! Luke!”

  He crouched and whispered his friend’s name in increasingly husky tones, finally reaching a frustrated crescendo with a shrill whistle.

  Luke’s face, crusty and misshapen with sleep, emerged. He glanced around, blinking eyes adjusting to the darkness, passing ri
ght over Bill. “Huh?” he said.

  “Down here!” Bill whispered.

  “Bill?” Finally Luke’s eyes fell on his friend. “What’re you doing here?”

  Bill bristled a bit at the question. He was still angry with Luke for interfering with his Elena rescue. But then Bill remembered what he was about to ask him to do.

  “Shhh,” Bill hissed, then softened his tone and the look in his eyes. “Secret-mission time, buddy. You up for it?”

  “I’m game,” said Luke, yawning.

  He always was.

  BILL WAS THINKING about the humans, trying to remember Felix’s theory. It was hard enough to worry about Joe, but now he had to entertain the idea that there were more of them out there. It chilled him to imagine the jungle ripped apart by marauding humans. Cloud Kingdom, the forest floor, no place would be safe.

  “I’m hungry,” Luke said.

  “It’s the middle of the night!” Bill said.

  “What, you never heard of a nocturnal snack?”

  “Teddycats have a pretty disciplined feeding schedule,” Bill said. “But by all means, dig up some grubs or whatever it is you like, if that’s what it takes for us to get on with our mission.”

  “I’m not really in the mood for grubs,” Luke murmured. “More like something sweet.”

  Bill sighed. “Well, if I’ve learned one thing recently, it’s that the universe doesn’t care about moods—yours, mine, or anybody else’s.”

  “The universe is dumb,” Luke said.

  “It’s definitely unfair,” said Bill.

  “Humans are allowed all sorts of moods, I’ll bet,” said Luke, chewing loudly on a root.

  “That’s the top of the food chain for you,” Bill said. “Frees up a lot of mental space. Too bad they use it for storing evil plans and inventing new traps.”