Anton and Cecil by Lisa Martin

Author:Lisa Martin
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Algonquin Books
Published: 2013-03-24T16:00:00+00:00

Anton did recall a much smaller, featherless version of this creature. When he and Cecil were kittens, Cecil had caught and eaten a few as they dashed among the stones at the base of the lighthouse, but even Cecil found them indigestible. Lizards they were called, but those were skittery brownish things, no longer than a claw, with tiny heads and detachable tails. This one was as big as a dog. Its skin was wrinkly and greenish blue. The protruding black eyes operated independently, the mouth stretched halfway round the oblong head, and the tongue was a blood-red whip, which flicked out distractedly. It was the flicking tongue that made the th-th-th sound. Strangest of all, the creature’s cheeks, neck, and shoulders were studded with black feathers. The lizard took another step, one eye coming to rest on Anton while the other focused on its own fearsomely clawed front foot. “Good grief. What are you?” the lizard said. “Some kind of weasel?”

Anton put his paw down and lifted his head. “I’m a cat,” he said.

The lizard opened its mouth, showing the red roof of its palate, then closed it again and flicked the tongue out and in. “Never heard of that,” it said.

“I was on a ship and I got stranded here.”

“That explains it. No telling what comes off those things. A creature that called himself a weasel got left here once. He had fur like you. He didn’t last long.”

“He died?”

“He did. And then the clackers got him.” The lizard’s eyes spun up and around, scanning the sky and the brush. “What’s your name?” it asked.

“Anton.”

“I’m Dave,” said the lizard.

“Why do you have feathers? Are you part—what do you call them?”

“I don’t know their real name,” Dave admitted. “I just call them the clackers because they never shut up.” He opened and closed his mouth again. Anton couldn’t tell if it was purposeful or just a tic. “And no, I’m no bird,” Dave concluded. “It’s just that I like to eat clacker eggs. They’re really good. Have you tried them?”

“I’ve just been trying not to wind up like the weasel.”

“Right. Well, I’m a lot bigger than you. And the truth is the stupid clackers make a lot of threats, but they never kill anything. They just chase you and circle around you and try to scare you to death, and then they pick your bones. That’s what they did to the weasel. I don’t pay any attention to them; I just want the eggs, so they get all excited and I have to fight them off, and their feathers are really sticky. If I get a few in my mouth it takes all day to pull them out, and it hurts.”

“But the eggs are worth it.”

“Well, there’s not a lot of variety on this island.”

Anton considered this. “And if you eat the eggs, there are fewer clackers.”

“Right. Say, you’ve got nice-looking little paws. Have you got good claws in those?”

Anton raised his forepaw and popped out his claws.

“Wow,” said Dave.

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