The Plucker by Anna Starobinets

Author:Anna Starobinets
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dover Publications
Published: 2018-02-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 14: IN WHICH A BOW TIE IS REQUIRED

“Pluck and burn!” mumbled Badgercat and abruptly opened his eyes.

He was curled up in a ball, his breathing shallow and uneven. His nose was covered in sweat, his fur stood on end, and the clods of dirt on his tail trembled like dried-out berries on a thorny bush. The rising sun peered into his eyes through the grate of the sewer cover. His new hideout was bathed in a checked shadow, like a prison cell.

Another nightmare. The same one as always.

“The same nightmare again?” Ratty was leaning over him. “You dreamed that you were the Plucker? Here, chew on this catnip. It’ll help.”

Badgercat nodded and put a bit of catnip under his tongue. He rubbed his swollen eyes with his paws.

“Something is wrong with me, Ratty,” he said quietly. “I’m afraid I have an evil side.”

“What?” asked Ratty.

“I mean: what if I really did something awful? And then forgot about it? My nightmares—they must mean something.”

“There’s no such thing as sides,” said Ratty calmly. “You’re just very tired. And you’re alone against the world. That’s why you’re having nightmares.”

“I’m not alone. I have you, Ratty. You’re my only friend.”

“Now you must start relying on yourself, Badgercat. Only yourself,” said Ratty dully.

“Now? What are you talking about? Are you leaving? You’re abandoning me? Hey! Where are you going? You never comb you whiskers! And why do you have a bow tie on your tail?”

“When you’re called to Madame Weasel’s office, there’s a strict dress code. A bow tie is required.”

“You’re going to see Weasel?”

“Yes.”

“But you’ll be back. Right?”

“I hope so,” said Ratty. Badgercat detected something very akin to fear in his voice. “I’ll do my best.”

“Are you afraid Weasel will bite your head off?” asked Badgercat nervously. “Don’t go! Please don’t go!”

“I’m not afraid of anything,” said Ratty proudly. “What doesn’t kill a rat, makes it grayer.”

“But Weasel kills rats! She bites off their heads and rips out their hearts!”

“A real rat lives life as if its heart has already been ripped out.”

“Then think of me, Ratty, if you don’t want to think of yourself! If you aren’t here. . .”

“I’m not here. I’m your shadow.”

“I don’t understand, Ratty,” Badgercat said, sighing desperately. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s ancient rat wisdom: don’t have a shadow—be a shadow. You probably can’t understand. Goodbye, friend!”

Ratty gave a quick wave, turned, and disappeared into the darkness of a sewage pipe.

“Friend . . . ,” Badgercat quietly repeated.

Up until now, Ratty had never called him “a friend.”

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