ValHamster by Angela Misri

Author:Angela Misri
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: JUV019000 JUVENILE FICTION / Humorous Stories JUV059000 JUVENILE FICTION / Dystopian JUV002180 JUVENILE FICTION / Animals / Mice, Hamsters, Guinea Pigs, etc.
Publisher: Cormorant Books
Published: 2022-05-14T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TEN

The cool air of twilight seeps into the thorny camp before I feel comfortable investigating.

“It’s time,” I whisper directly into Diana’s ear. She flicks it at me like I’m a gnat, so I risk getting up and slide over to Spike.

She senses me and opens one eye. “Now?”

“Now,” I agree, leading the way to the hole in the center of this fortification.

We carefully pad our way to the edge of the hole and look down to see two mammals positioned as far away from each other as physically possible.

“Wheels,” Spike hisses, recognizing the weasel in the darkness right away. I’m squinting at the other animal, trying to recognize it and feeling like I do.

It picks its head up, and two big glowing eyes stare up at me, filled with such sadness that they make me take a step away from the hole.

“We have to get him out,” Spike whispers at me. My eyes are still locked on the unfortunate second animal, my brain fighting with my heart.

Wheels doesn’t respond to Spike’s repeated hisses, but the young animal looks from Wheels to us and back again before whispering in a soft voice, “Do you want me to try and wake him?”

Spike looks horrified at the idea and hisses back, “Stay away from him, you … you dog!”

He’s a dog, yes, but even more … I think he’s a very young Great Dane. I can tell by his long, rectangular head and square jaw. He’s young enough that he and the weasel are about the same size.

The puppy seems to be too used to the angry voice directed his way and turns away from us, burying his face under his long tail without another sound. I remember stories I have overheard from Hannah about her experiences before she met Pickles. When she talked about the abuse she suffered at the paws of cruel, bullying cats, she would seem to contract into herself, becoming a smaller version of her usually tall, lithe body. This pup’s reaction reminds me of that physical reaction. Some animals get smaller and talk more when confronted with trauma, and some animals get bigger and quieter. I went the second way. I don’t know why, but I can see how it happens.

“Emmy,” Spike says, actually poking me in the shoulder to get me to look her way. “Are you listening to me? We have to get Wheels out of there.”

“Both of them,” I hear myself saying, my voice gluey with emotions.

Spike is the one to stare at me now. “Both of them? Why? No, the dog … we don’t want to have some yappy puppy dog following us around.”

“Why not?”

“Look, I know how you feel about Diana, and … she’s a special case,” Spike admits, glancing back at the sleeping corgi, “but I’m telling you, she’s not a normal dog. She doesn’t bite you or chase you or bark like she’s nuts and attract zombies. But this puppy … we just can’t take a chance. They can’t be trusted,” Spike says.

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