The Raven of Elderwood

Even his own kind, the ravens shunned him. But in Elderwood, his cunning and cruel nature were envied. Here, in a distant and dark corner of the Great Swamp, the rats of Elderwood had found someone they could appreciate and admire. His promise of vengeance and blood had fired their imaginations. As he hobbled about on a crooked leg now badly healed from an old injury, a small black dog had almost caught him on the ground feasting on a recent kill. They would circle him as he spoke, their red eyes bright with hidden thoughts of blood and feasting. They could snicker at his injuries in their own dens, but never in his presence. They could take joy in his broken wing which he now used as a poor substitute for a crutch, but never look at it directly, for he was fast with his hard beak, and he used it often. They listened closely for his mind was keen, and like the rats, crowded with evil thoughts which he loved to repeat as he moved restlessly along the shore of the swamp, gazing long and evilly into the distance where he knew the Great Forest lay.

Late into the nights, he and the rat leader would sit at the shoreline plotting just how they would gain surcease from the gnawing hatred which twisted their guts endlessly. They could only express their loathing in short evil words, spitting them out like bullets. On and on they would go, each taking turns repeating their hatred and how they would give anything to have her once again in their hands.

But how? How could they lure her to Elderwood where they could rip and tear her? What would bring the small black dog? Without her many friends. Yes. That was always the flaw in their evil plans. They could not wreak havoc upon her small black body in the presence of the alligator, or that horrible Ssserek, he the largest of rattlesnakes, swift and deadly even when badly outnumbered. Yes, and there were others, like the bear or the moose. She must be lured here without them.

Day and night, the raven crutched along the shore on one wing, the other weaving circles in the air. Gaunt from hunger because Elderwood provided little sustenance, even for the rats who would eat anything, but filled with hatred, the raven moved restlessly, twisting his head from side to side, seeking something he could not see, peering into each black hole, each bramble bush. He groped with his hard beak each nook and cranny along the twisted and torn trunks of the many trees so badly damaged in the great tornado. Each day, he would go through the same routine, his body seeking what his mind could not find.

Then, one day, it finally happened. A scrawny blackbird appeared in the distant skies making his way to Elderwood to report. What power the raven had over the blackbird was not known, only that the blackbird would report each day what was occurring in the Great Forest and Field.

The blackbird was small for one of his kind, normally only slightly smaller than the raven himself. He had little of the intelligence of his kind and was always seeking favors from larger and wiser birds. None listened to his begging requests. He was widely known to be craven, a cowardly nodding little thief who lived alone in the forest. When seen, it was usually by squirrels and birds who noted his presence at the edge of several other creatures quietly speaking among themselves. Then, he would be sat upon and chased away. There seemed to be little danger in him, but nonetheless, no one trusted him. Too often an egg or other food would be stolen in the night. Watchfulness was the word when he was around.

He flew directly toward the raven who waited impatiently at the shore. Landing several feet from the raven, the small blackbird nodded repeatedly, hopping toward the raven cautiously, carefully taking note of the raven’s temper.

His nose almost in the sand, the blackbird looked respectfully up at the raven. The blackbird had to twist his head so that he could view the raven with one eye. In turn, the raven had to twist his head to see well with his left eye for the right was partially opaque, and therefore, he was almost blind on that side. Anyone approaching from the right unexpectedly could expect an explosion of abuse, both verbal and physical.

He coughed carefully, before saying anything but “Good day, your greatness, good day.”

The raven sneered at the small bird who crouched before him. He despised the small creature, knowing him for the cowardly sneak that he was, but carefully refrained from making his thoughts too obvious. He needed to know what transpired within the forest, and only this creature could tell him.

When spoken, his words were soft as his beak was hard. “Well, my small one, what passes today in the forest? You have news, perhaps?”

The raven nodded slowly, giving the little sneak time to build his courage.

“Sir, sir,” said the blackbird. He then went on to describe in the most minute details the goings and comings of the many creatures in the forest.

The raven was fast becoming impatient for the news was the same. As yesterday, and the day before, and before that. The raven was suddenly jolted out of his reverie.

The small blackbird had continued to rattle off his many observations without a pause. “And the two are about . . .”

The raven cried aloud. “Caw, caw, caw,” he shouted to the sky, to the trees, and best of all, to King Rat who appeared rapidly at the obvious excitement of the raven. “Come, come my friends. I have it. I have it.”

Other rats peered out of the darkness of fallen trees. What could make the raven so excited? Others slowly crept onto the sand. They looked about, seeking any potential danger. There were none. Their eyes glittered as they looked at one another. This would mean no good for someone. Red eyes gleamed even brightly at the evil thought.

King Rat was old and almost hairless. His whiskers had never fully recovered from his encounter with the little dragon. He often saw her in his dreams. They were never good dreams. He tolerated the raven because they were so similar in their thoughts and in their hatred for the little black dog. The rat would tolerate anything if it meant an opportunity to even the score. He moved slowly toward the raven who was leaping awkwardly about in his frenzy of cawing. Never had the rat heard the raven so excited.

As the two evil creatures met on the shore, the raven whirled around and around until it seemed he must fall. He leaped toward King Rat.

“I have it. I have it. I know how we can get the little dog here without the great snake or alligator knowing.”

King Rat bared his fangs, saliva dripping from his mouth in his rising excitement. He rose to a sitting position, more than matching the large raven in height.

The two stared fixedly at one another. Each knew the other’s thoughts, the evil intent. The raven dropped his head, turning it so that he looked up at the large rat, much as the small blackbird reported.

Holding his head in that position, the raven hopped around and around the rat. Hop, hop, then several mincing small steps. Hop, he moved, sidling around and around.

“Hee, hee, hee. I’ll have her here. With your aid, my fine rat of rats. Yes, together, we’ll have her.”

He stopped abruptly, turning toward the small blackbird who had slowly moved closer to better hear. “Report their whereabouts tomorrow. Now, go. Do as you’re told.”

The small blackbird tumbled backwards in his anxiety to be out of reach of the raven and rushed into the sky as the raven’s beak narrowly missed a fluttering wing tip.

King Rat in turn glared at the nearest of minions, all of whom rushed back into the safety of the trees.

It took time, but finally their scheme was agreed on, and then they swiftly put into place each of the components. Only then did the two cease their restless movement up and down the shore as they reviewed each step which would bring about the capture of Buttons who was, at that moment, moving slowly through the Great Field.

Sally, the beagle was at her side as they moved toward their respective homes. Evening was approaching, and it had been a fun day. With Iggy, they had gone to the River Running to watch the otters play. Only they, of the many creatures of forest and field, had the freedom to approach and enter the village along the river where the dens of otters were to be found.

It was always the same. A tumultuous welcome and then playtime. First, with the youngest who rapidly lost interest or tired easily. Then, with Dodger, the otter, they would head for the slides and a good swim in the river.

Buttons would place herself at one side to better view the fun because she never swam unless Delph, the alligator was present. He wasn’t present today, much to the relief of the otters. While they greatly appreciated his abilities in the water, they were more than wary of his great mouth and his endless appetite.

Finally, even the otters were exhausted from all of the fun. Buttons’s ribs ached from all of the laughter and the delight of watching Iggy trying to ride on the back of Dodger. For all of his agility in the water, Dodger kept sliding from beneath Iggy who would fall with great vigor and much splashing into the water. His pretense at drowning was hilarious, and finally one of the younger otters would porpoise out and then beneath the floundering ground squirrel. Together, they would tear across the river to deliver the laughing and a very wet Iggy to Buttons who would then be thoroughly doused with water as Iggy shook himself.

Only later as the two dogs returned home did their thoughts turn to a more serious matter. They had met Ssserek earlier as they moved toward the river. The great serpent greeted them with his usual good humor, but he was clearly on his way and would not tarry more than the moment it took to tell the two dogs. Word had come to him that a small serpent clan at the distant northern edge of the Great Field was in danger from a new construction company. He knew the field and forest were off-limits to construction, the Great Swamp and its surrounding forest and field were part of a greater wildlife preserve. Still, the small bird that brought the message insisted that the distant serpents required his presence. He would see himself.

Buttons and Sally both immediately agreed to go with him, but he refused their aid. This was a serpent matter, and besides, their presence at home was required. They had sighed at his refusal, but knew he would have it his way. Individual serpents they knew and loved, but in the matter of clan business, they recognized the strong ties that existed between one serpent and his clan. For Ssserek, all clans mattered. He was gone before either dog had had a good opportunity to question him further.

The next day, they were off to the swamp, romping freely along the swamp’s edge looking for Delph, the alligator. He was always ready for fun and provided excellent transportation around the swamp. With him, there could be no danger, and many shy animals who would otherwise disappear instantly at the first sight of any stranger, or the alligator alone, waited to greet the two dogs. Then Buttons and Sally would have much fun in quizzing the many small creatures they would meet in a day’s time.

But Delph was nowhere to be found. No tracks. Nothing. Only later in the day did a small blackbird swoop down to stand in front of them. Nodding his head up and down, he reassured that he meant no harm.

Both dogs laughed politely. One small blackbird could hardly prove any danger.

Buttons smiled as she asked, “And, what can we do for you, small friend?”

The blackbird nodded again and again, twisting his head to view them with one eye and then the other.

“Well, you see. I, uh, I saw you seeking something along the shore. When I thought of it, I recalled seeing you in the company of that creature . . . I mean . . . the alligator. He always seems to be with you.”

“Yes,” replied Sally. “We were seeking him. He’s a very good friend.”

The blackbird coughed gently as he watched the two. Such silly creatures. Surely, these two could hardly be what the magnificent, and terribly frightful, raven was after. After all, how could these two injure the raven, much less the rats. Well, he would say what he been told to say and be off to report.

“Well, you see, I saw the alligator swimming northward this morning. He seemed to be hurrying, so of course, I didn’t detain him. He said he would be back in several days since it is a long journey.”

“Darn,” blurted out Sally. “Bet he’s off to be with Ssserek.”

The small blackbird grinned to himself. Yes, they would believe anything. Such simpletons. He bobbed several more times and then begged to depart, which he promptly did before more questions could be asked.

“Yeah,” muttered Buttons. “Darn, he is right. Just wait until they get back. Oh, well. Let’s go see how the groundhogs are doing.”

“Good idea,” responded the beagle. “We haven’t been there in a long time.”

Both the young dogs had a good day and parted that afternoon earlier than usual because Buttons was due for her monthly grooming session at the local grooming parlor, one of her favorite places-. She never missed it, and early the next morning would be out rolling freely in the dirt and bush. Only when she was thoroughly covered would she sit up, grinning at the thought of her boy’s first words when she returned. Sally always went along with the gag. It was, after all, a good one.

Thus, it was on the following morning when Buttons was at her favorite spot for rolling and scratching her back. To and fro she wiggled, enjoying every moment. She had a care for nothing else. It felt so good.

“Hmmm . . . hmmmm,” she hummed to herself. Finally she sat up and looked around. Strange. No Sally. She barked briefly, expecting an immediate answer from close by. No answer.

Buttons began to walk back and forth, casting about for any sign of her best friend. But there were no footprints. No odors in the morning breezes. Nothing.

She barked louder. She couldn’t bugle like Sally, and her voice would not carry very far. Well, she would go looking. With that thought, Buttons was off.

First, around the Great Field. That took time. Then, toward the river. More time. By noon, Buttons was tired and had to rest. It was very quiet. The breeze had stopped, and she would enter the forest quickly to take advantage of the cool shade. Having rested a short time, she was soon off, crossing the forest using their favorite paths. No sigh.

Buttons stopped for another brief rest. Strange. How very strange. It was not like Sally, who was punctuality itself. Buttons was the one usually guilty of forgetting meeting times. Easily, distraction went with her youth. But not with the serious Sally. An unusual feeling crawled slowly up her back.

Buttons quickly glanced about. Getting the shakes already. But something was wrong. She hurried on, more often glancing carefully around. Something was wrong. She could feel it. Dark shadows appeared in her mind, tumbling one after the other, scrambling for something to grab. But there was nothing to hold on to. Just dark shadows without substance.

She reached the swamp’s edge and glanced at both directions. None of her usual friends. Delph. She missed him most of all. Now, she needed him badly.

She sniffed the air. There was something there now. Very faint. And distant. She turned in that direction and was off, running with her quick, short strides that covered ground remarkably fast.

The odor was steadily growing stronger. But it was all wrong. Sally, but not Sally. Salty, too.

She rounded a small hummock of long grass. There it was. Very close now. She skidded to a stop, a ridge of hair involuntarily rising along her spine. She could see discoloration on the grass. And, there was a spotchy patch on the sand.

She moved forward, carefully examining her surroundings. No one there now. She put her nose to blotch on the sand. Blood! Blood! That’s what was wrong. Sally, and yet, not Sally. Not as Buttons knew her.

But it was Sally’s blood, all right. No doubt. Too much. She had to be in grave danger. Buttons stopped, backtracking slowly. On the leaves rising before her. Another’s blood. Rat blood. “Rats,” her brain shouted.

“Oh, you ninny. Of course, only they would attack Sally.” She scanned the ground more closely. The prints were everywhere, now that she was using her brain. Maybe not many. But more than enough for the small beagle, no matter how she might have fought. Too quick for her to bugle or call out.

Well, they would have to deal with Buttons now. Buttons raised her head and scanned the far shore of the swamp only vaguely to be seen in the rising mists. There! There! She had to be there. Buttons could and would follow.

No Ssserek. No Delph. Well, she could do it on her own. The difficulty would be great, but she would go now. The blood made the situation much more immediate and far more dangerous. So be it.

Buttons turned, and, putting her nose down so she could more easily follow the trail, left the scene of the battle which had put Sally in the clutches of the rats.

She could not move as swiftly as she would have liked, but it was sure this way. She made steady headway, glancing at the small peninsula that jutted out into the swamp. Yes. Probably there, and from there, trees and tussocks of grass. She would make it.

She did not hear them approaching, but two figures suddenly appeared out of nowhere and were immediately at her sides. She stopped and whirled to meet the newest danger.

Buttons grunted and sat. “Oh, it’s you two.”

Toby, the bobcat grinned at her apparent annoyance and butted Cross-eye, the tomcat who stood next to him. Cross-eye sidled up to Buttons and rubbed against her shoulder.

“Oorrrrh,” was his best purr, a rough, grumbling sound with which he irritated Buttons no end.

“Oh, cut it out you two knot heads. Just what are you up to now?” She stood and shoved Cross-eye away.

Although she had helped to raise him, he brought back dark memories which she did not like to remember. But, they loved one another in their own way, though neither would ever admit it.

Cross-eye had grown into a fine and large tomcat who found a natural ally in the bobcat with whom he roamed the forest and field at all hours of the day or night.

The males grinned at one another as Toby answered. “We met Ssserek on his way north. He was angry but calmed when he saw us. He looked us over, only as he can, and then said, ‘You two will find Buttons and go wherever she goes. Understood?’”

“Well, he just up and left us standing there. No explanations or anything else.”

Cross-eye added, “And just what are you doing?” He grinned even more widely because he knew that splutter and carry on as she might, she would not say no to their presence.

“Well, come on, twits!”