Teddycats by Mike Storey

Author:Mike Storey
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Young Readers Group
Published: 2016-05-31T17:17:07+00:00

18

THE SKY TURNED plum-colored as the jungle fell into twilight. There was a volley of baleful moans as the moon rose. Daytime bugs cleared out to make room for the heavier, glowing nighttime bugs. It had been a long, largely silent afternoon as they retraced their steps.

The mission was not going as planned. They didn’t bother disturbing the (admittedly confused) Olingos when they passed the den again, though Luke waved half-heartedly. Bill had been gritting his teeth so hard that his jaw would be sore by dinnertime. They would have to make camp and renew the search in the morning. It felt like time was slipping away, along with their chances.

He felt better after they settled down by a large, ferny stump and shared a rustle of grubs. The moon was low and fat, throwing soft silver on everything it touched. But it didn’t touch everything, not way down in the underbrush, and it was hard for Bill to ignore the ceaseless squawks, rattles, and flickers. Harder, at least, than during the day. It made Bill realize just how groomed and well-managed the Kingdom had been. Cloud Kingdom, where everything had its place and everything had a name, as quiet and smooth as a mountain pond. Bill realized that, if their mission truly succeeded, there would be ripples, waves, wakes. He would need to become much more comfortable with the unknown and the darkness, real quick.

Somehow, Bill slept. His dreams were tense and chaotic: Versions of Maia, Elena, and Jack, his parents and the Elders—even Freddy and Doris, arguing over a few clumps of sweetmoss—slipped through his subconsciousness like pawfuls of sand.

When he woke it was hot and bright, banners of blue sky between swaying limbs cackling like wind chimes. The jungle hum was friendlier, if still not exactly welcoming. Bill rubbed his eyes and yawned widely. It was one of those mornings, inside and out, that held the promise of a fresh beginning. The air was pungent, rich, and loamy. The jungle was so alive, so flowing and loaded, there was no way to imagine life outside of it.

As usual, Diego was on watch, diligently surveying the perimeter. He didn’t trust anyone else to do the job. Bill brought him breakfast—berries and bark, nothing fancy, but still sure to be appreciated.

“Morning, Diego,” Bill said, handing him the small meal.

“Thanks, mate,” said Diego. He picked at Bill’s offering, distracted by his duty. “How’d you sleep?”

“Pretty well.”

“Sure sounded that way. You were snoring up a racket.”

“What? No I wasn’t!”

Bill didn’t snore. Snoring was for old, wheezy Teddycats like Omar’s father. Back when they were younger and still close, Bill would often spend the night at Omar’s den, and of the handful of oddities Bill remembered about those visits—the whole place smelled like a larva-choked log, for instance—it was Omar’s father’s tree-shaking snores that stood out the most. Bill almost laughed, thinking about how badly he’d missed home, only a few dens away, during those restless nights at Omar’s. Here he was lost in a foreign forest, claws to the wall, further from home than ever before.

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