Prone To Wander (rough draft)

Chapter Five

When Quinn felt they had traveled far enough from the scene of the killing, Ruben climbed down again and resumed his tracking lessons. It was some hours later, that the rhythm of steady steps, and continual rambling of friendly voices, lulled weary little Malaki to sleep. No one noticed that he'd nodded off, until Quinn stooped to examine a track, and Malaki slipped from his perch. He woke just as he landed in the raccoon's paws. For a brief moment he panicked, forgetting in his half-sleeping state that he was now with friends. The paws cupped around the little squirrel to keep him from falling further, and Quinn tried to calm him.

“It's alright, it's alright,” the raccoon said in a quiet, warm tone. “Terribly sorry about that though. I didn't know you'd dozed off.”

The paws opened again, and Malaki had come back to his senses. He was looking up at the masked face with relief, though his heart was still racing from the scare. “I tried to stay awake,” he said, “But I'm just so tired. Can't we stop for a rest now?”

Ruben had climbed into the paws and sat next to his nephew, he tussled his ears and smiled. “We'd better not,” he said, “I know you're tired, but we need to keep moving while we can. If we lose the trail, we might not be able to pick it up again.”

“I could still empty out that bag,” Quinn offered, “You could sleep there.”

Malaki only sighed. He didn't want Quinn to have to leave belongings behind on his account, but didn't know what to say.

There was a sudden tugging at Quinn's paws, and both squirrels turned to see Cavan, reaching his own paw out to Malaki. “You can come with me,” he said cheerily, “Kelly and me, we'll keep you awake, it'll be alright.”

Ruben smiled at the kit, picked Malaki up from behind, and handed him over. “That's a good idea,” Ruben said, “You'll be better company for each other, and then Quinn can focus on tracking.”

“And you can focus on learning,” Quinn added.

Malaki was unsure, but didn't argue as he was placed in the smaller paws. He was already causing delays, and didn't like to be a hindrance. Kelly was close by, and was quick to reintroduce herself to the little squirrel. She and her brother wasted no time in starting a conversation. The two raccoon kits talked up a storm, and if they weren't talking, they were chasing each other this way and that. Their energy must have been somewhat contagious, because eventually Malaki took to running and playing with them. Quinn thought this was such a fantastic sight, that he stopped tracking for a few minutes to watch the fun.

The three new friends were chasing each other 'round in circles, then running halfway up trees and leaping back down to the ground again. At one point, Kelly actually caught Malaki in her paws, she tumbled for a moment before landing on her back. “Are you alright?” she asked, setting her friend down, “I'm sorry about that, I tripped.”

“I'm fine,” Malaki said, a little out of breath, “But I'm getting awfully tired again.”

“I can't imagine why,” Quinn laughed, “Running around the way you three are, I'm getting tired just watching you!”

Ruben looked around, taking stock of their current surroundings, “This might be a good time to feel tired. The sun's nearly down, and I'll bet that weasel is looking for a place to stay safe for the night.”

“Sense he's been on the move all day, and he's alone now, you could be right,” Quinn agreed. “What's everyone think then? Should we try to make a proper camp and start a fire? Or should we find a good tree and sleep off the ground?”

No one seemed to be much in the mood for setting camp, it would take too long and then they would have to clean up before leaving... setting camp would set them back. So, the vote was unanimous, what they wanted was to find a good tree. Ruben volunteered to do the search, since Quinn had done most of the work thus far. He ran up and down at least ten trees before finding one with good, strong, wide branches, high enough off the ground. It was a white oak, and very old. The trunk was enormous, and the bark was covered in deep ridges, it was perfect for climbing.

There was a wonderful branch, well off the ground, that was nearly flat on the top, with a natural dip (like a half built nest) near the trunk. Quinn wasted no time in curling up in this perfect spot, and he was soon joined by his niece and nephew, who yawned and stretched and curled up beside him.

Ruben felt a tugging at his belt and turned to see his own nephew. “Where do we stay, uncle Ruben?” he asked, in a groggy, half sleeping sort of voice.

“As close to our friends as we can,” Ruben answered, “It's the best way to stay safe.”

Malaki watched as his uncle approached the drowsy trio of raccoons, he patted Cavan's head and the kit came more awake. “Do we need to make more room?” he asked through a yawn.

“No,” Ruben replied, “I think there's enough space for two little squirrels, don't you?” Cavan only smiled and curled up again.

Ruben found a place, practically between the two kits, and settled in. He looked to his nephew, who was still standing a little ways down the branch, and motioned for him with a paw. Malaki crept closer, looking here and there, for a good place to settle in for the night. He squeezed past the kits, and his uncle, and curled up next to one of Quinn's great fore paws. He was only a bit surprised when the paw wrapped around him. Quinn however was quite surprised when the tiny squirrel pressed hard into his paw, and fell asleep. He had expected Malaki to wait until he moved his paw away, before settling in. Ruben had been watching his nephew and smiled. Just the night before, he was fighting that raccoon with everything he had, wondering if he would live another day. Now here he was, acting as if they'd been friends for ages, and trusting him with everything he had.

The next thing Ruben knew, was that someone was tapping him on the head. It was a sharp, hard tapping, as if from one of Quinn's claws. The squirrel groaned, raised his head, and saw a bird clinging to the edge of the great branch. It was a pale, grayish blue, with a copper chest and wide dark eyes that were constantly moving. He could see the sun was rising behind it, sending golden light pouring through the green canopy of the oak.

“Can I help you with something?” Ruben asked.

“They're asleep,” whispered the bird, “Aren't you going to run?”

Ruben took a breath and shook his head wearily, “No, no,” he said, “That would be very rude.”

The bird gave a little flap of her wings, and turned her head sideways to see this strange creature better. When her gaze shifted again, she froze... the fierce amber eyes of the big raccoon were now fixed on her. Quinn shifted his weight, so he could get better use of his paws and the bird looked on in horror.

Ruben then noticed what had given this visitor such a scare, and he stretched and sat up, saying, “Let her go Quinn. Poor thing was trying to help me escape the viscous predators.”

Quinn's eyes narrowed and his ears pinned back. He gave a low growl as his focus shifted to the squirrel, “Do you realize that I still haven't eaten? And you're going to tell me to ignore a perfectly good breakfast?”

The bird still hadn't moved. Ruben got to his paws, sighed and stepped closer to it, “Terribly sorry about him. Do you have any feathers I could use?”

“Feathers?” the bird echoed in confusion, but she obliged and tugged out several that were loose already. They were all pale blue, nearly gray, and as long as Ruben's fore legs.

Quinn watched hopelessly, as the bird, though absolutely bewildered, bid them all a good morning and fluttered away. He then looked back to his friend, who was hopping around, bending twigs and snapping some away from their branches with his strong front teeth. He dashed all over the tree, gathering bits of many things, then sat down with his collection of items and started working. “Quinn,” he said, “Can I use a small strip of hide from one of your pouches?”

The raccoon heaved himself up, careful of Malaki as he rose, and tore a bit off of one of his little bags. “Here,” he grumbled, “What are you doing with all that?”

Ruben only smiled. He pulled a number of tiny flat stones from one of his own pouches and returned to his work. He broke the feathers into pieces and dipped them in sap, then pushed them into notches he'd made in the smaller twigs. The stones were fastened to the other ends, in notches too, but held firm with bits from the strip of hide. Then he pulled something from another pouch, like a sleek, shimmering black vine, and began attaching it to a larger, sturdier twig, first to one end, then the other, then tightening the thing until the twig was bent into the shape of a crescent moon. The rest of the hide was wound tight at the cresent's curve.

“Impressive,”Quinn admitted as the work was finished, “Now what are you going to do with that?”

“Look after Malaki for me, and you'll see soon enough,” the squirrel replied.

Malaki was already awake, and saw his uncle leave. He roused himself at the sight, stretching and yawning and getting to his paws. “It's a good thing he was able to save the string,” the pup said.

“I'm sorry, I don't follow,” Quinn replied, “Save the string?”

“From his bow,” Malaki answered, “He broke the bow in the big fight, when the ermines came and captured us. He must have shot three or four of them, but then he ran out of arrows, and he used the bow to hit one of the villains instead... and it broke. But he always told me the most important part of a bow is the string, so it's good that he was able to keep it.”