Children of Bast (11 page)

Mutt explained the procedure while we bounced like three arnab over the grass to the lake. “It’s sort of like doing rats. You kill ‘em right away. Seize by the back of the neck and clamp down hard. They’ll die quick. But stay down, flat, like this.” He flattened out and shoved himself deep in the grass.

“Tuyuurs are smart,” Fergus said as he stood beside me and watched Mutt slither through the grass, his tail switching in long, slow waves. “Watch him move. See, he’s like a snake, stopping and starting but never in a hurry. Listen, Kid, tuyuurs can smell you very well, and they can see long distances and hear very well. Not as good as us, for sure, but their hearing is great. The trick is not to spook ‘em. They look around a lot, and if something changes quick, they’re gone. So you got to go real slow and never change the way you sneak up because they get used to you doing what Mutt’s doing and they’ll ignore you until you’re close enough to pounce. Understand?”

“Can I watch you first? It seems complicated.”

“Sure,” Fergus said. “Hey, Mutt, you get the first one and we’ll watch. Then I’ll go.”

Mutt agreed, and we crawled as close as we dared to the bench where bašar sat and tossed bits of bread, seeds, and crumbs to a lotta tuyuurs scampering around in front of them. Actually, by End of Light, bašar were thick around there: walking on the beach, swimming, sitting, laying down and sleeping. They were all over the place, getting in our way and being general pains in the tail. A few of them had kalb tied to leashes, mostly small, nervous kalb that barked at anything, including themselves. Adele was right about that.

We dropped down behind a slab of rock, close enough to see but not be seen, which Fergus said would cause them to run us off.

“Tuyuurs spook easy,” Fergus whispered. “Eventually, someone’ll throw something in a different way and the tuyuurs will fly and sit in a tree or something to make sure everything is okay, then slowly move back close for the food. Let’s wait back here and watch Mutt.”

We drew back and hunkered down. Mutt disappeared in the grass and began his move. All Fergus and I could see was the end of his twitching tail and the grass moving around him.

Fergus was right. An old lady tossed something hard so it went over the tuyuurs and landed a few feet away. Amid loud flapping and shrieks, the tuyuurs rose like one huge cloud, disappearing in the trees. For a moment we saw no tuyuurs. Mutt froze. Then one came back and landed far off from the bašar, who started to throw stuff again. Like magic, all the tuyuurs returned, walked around making fluttery sounds and pecking up the food.

Mutt remained motionless, but he chattered softly and moved his jaws as if he were shivering.

“He’s practicing his killing bite,” Fergus whispered close to my ear.

I kept my eyes on Mutt and whispered back, “Very cool. Will I do that, too?”

“Yup.”

Near to him a large tuyuur landed, walked around and made fluttery sounds almost like a purr. Mutt rose up behind the tuyuur like a dark flash, clamped it between his front claws, sank his teeth into its neck, and then ran like the wind, the limp tuyuur flopping awkwardly beneath his belly.

“Beautiful,” Fergus whispered. “He is so fast.”

I was flabbergasted. I’d never seen an amait move like Mutt, and it excited me.

“I want to do that,” I said to Fergus.

“Okay, watch me and then you go.”

Fergus sank into the grass and glided away. I looked over to where bašar sat throwing stuff at the tuyuurs. None of them had seen Mutt when he got his tuyuur, so Fergus moved to about where Mutt had been and froze. Later, the flock spooked again and flew away, only to return and toddle toward the bašar.

I never saw Fergus move until he whipped past me with a tuyuur flopping from his mouth. Again, no one saw him.

My turn. I waited until the flock was busy pecking away, then I followed my teachers’ example. Like with my first rat, I reacted without thinking. Before I realized it, I was running with a small tuyuur clutched in my mouth, blood trickling down my throat.

“Look out,” Mutt screamed. “They let a kilaab loose on you.”

I glanced back and saw this curly haired black kilaab running like crazy after me, and behind it came a crowd of bašar shouting and screaming at me to drop the tuyuur.

The kilaab was a little bigger than me, but it was running like mad and yapping its head off. With the tuyuur clutched in my mouth, I was slowed down, so the kilaab gained on me. Suddenly, without knowing why, I stopped, dropped my kill, turned to the kilaab, puffed out every hair on my body and hissed as loud as I could right in his face. He stopped dead and gaped at me with bugged eyes, his mouth open but not barking. In a flash he turned and started yelping and screaming and running like mad toward the bašar that were getting close. I grabbed the tuyuur and ran as fast as I could toward Mutt’s bushes. But the bašar closed in fast, throwing rocks and handfuls of gravel at me. I didn’t want to get Mutt into trouble, so I veered quickly and ran across the street and into an alley and dove under a dumpster, flattened out and held my breath, which was almost gone anyway. They ran into the alley but didn’t spot me. I breathed softly and hoped no one would look under.

It was a long time before they gave up, and I came out dragging my tuyuur. I scampered fast to Mutt’s bush. Chubby, they were laughing so hard I thought I’d lose ‘em. Fergus was on his back kicking and screaming, and Mutt just laid on his back gut laughing with no sound coming out.

“Where the hell were you guys?” I yelled at them. “I was almost kilaab food.”

“Sic kalb on me, but you’re great,” Fergus said after stopping laughing. “When you turned on that kilaab, I saw him whiz right there and whiz a stream as he ran back.”

Another bout of laughter hit him and off he went again. Mutt had stopped and was breathing like he’d die all of a sudden.

“Fine, fine,” I said, dropping my catch. “Glad I can make you guys laugh.”

Then the look in that kilaab’s face hit me and I started laughing. Fergus was right, I’d scared the beh yeh outta him. What possessed me to do such a thing was never clear, but I guess that’s what amai do when they get cornered: surprise the little boogers and make ‘em beh yeh.

“You gotta know that kilaab was probably never right again,” Chubby said.

“Yeah, well, guess you gotta do what you gotta do, hey.”

“Kid, next we’re getting’ a singaab, followed by a araanib, and maybe even a samak if we could ever find one.” Fergus was on his feet, nuzzling me on the neck and giggling. “You are somethin’ else,” he said. “I gotta admit I’m glad you found me at End of Light in the alley even though I thought you was nuts and still do. But, you’re gonna be first class. Ain’t he, Mutt?”

“Yup, first class.” He sat up and blinked his woozie-looking eyes. “I’m hungry. We gonna eat these tuyuurs or let ‘em rot?”

“Let’s eat,” Fergus said.

We tore into our catches, and Fergus mumbled through mouthfuls of feathers, “Ain’t it great we don’t have to eat that crap bašar give you. I ate some once and it was sickening. Out here, we get to hunt, get to be real amai, not pampered fat kiths.” He looked at me and grinned. “And best of all, our food is fresh. You know that khara that comes in a can or a bag or something? That stuff’s gotta be years old. This!” He ripped a chunk of breast from his tuyuur. “This is hot off the street.”

“Okay, kid, watch and listen real close,” Mutt said while ripping open his tuyuur. “This ain’t like opening rats and mice. You gotta dig through the feathers to get to the good stuff, and don’t eat any feathers. They’ll choke you. You can pull ‘em out, but spit ‘em out right away. Good friend of mine choked to death on duck feathers, which are really tiny. That’s why I don’t eat duck.”

Fergus flopped his tuyuur over and, holding it down, he opened its belly. “This here’s a pigeon,” he said, “and once you’ve eaten one, you’ll crave ‘em. Absolutely delish.” Blue, green, yellow and purple guts appeared. “Now pay attention, kid.” He spread it apart. “There are some things here I especially like.” He pulled out a bloody hunk. “This here’s the liver. So scrumptious.” He gobbled it in one bite. “The heart, chewy yet juicy.” He gulped it down. “Now the lungs are dicey.” He pulled out two black things. “Mutt don’t like ‘em, but I do. Decide for yourself. Now this is the craw.” A wrinkly white sack emerged between Fergus’ teeth. He dropped it in front of me. “Do not eat this. It has rocks in it. Tuyuurs eat rocks, did you know?”

“No. This is the first tuyuur I’ve ever been around.”

“You’ll like tuyuurs,” Mutt said, munching away. “They taste so good. You can chew and enjoy. Not like gulping rats.”

“Okay, now that we’ve gone through the guts, it’s time to eat the legs,” Fergus continued. “Strip the feathers, eat the meat. Like this.” He pulled away the feathers on the legs, spit them out and took a big bite. “Best part of the tuyuur,” he said after swallowing. “Next comes the breast: same thing as with the legs. After that not much is left. You can pick at it if you want, but you don’t get much for the trouble.” He paused and smiled at me. “Okay, chow down.”

“So why not do tuyuurs all the time?” I asked.

“Rats’re easy,” Mutt said. “You saw what it takes to get a tuyuur, and if you’re not fast enough, you can guess what bašar would do to you if they caught you. They hate rats, so they don’t care if we eat ‘em. Fact is, they like what we do to rats. But tuyuurs they got a love affair with and don’t like for us eat ‘em.” He took another bite and chewed. “But they eat tuyuurs, too,” he went on. “I’ll never understand. Besides, daytime is best for catching tuyuurs, and that’s when bašar are around. We only have tuyuurs maybe twice or three times a week. Right, Ferg?” He returned to his food.

“Right,” Fergus replied, his mouth full.

I admit they were right. I loved that tuyuur. No rusty taste, no bitterness, and no nauseating smell. Once inside and past the juicy stuff, the flesh was sweet and chewy. Since that time tuyuurs have been on my regular menu as much as possible.

Chapter 10

Everything I know I learned from my cat: When you’re hungry, eat. When you’re tired, nap in a sunbeam. When you go to the vet’s, pee on your owner.
Gary Smith

L
ate one night, Mutt said, “Hey, Kid, I got someone I whatcha to meet.”

“Okay.”

“Who’r you talkin’ about?” Fergus asked.

“Meffie.”

“Whoa. You sure the kid here is ready for Meffie? I mean she ain’t the run-of-the-mill type.”

I stared at them while they talked, and got real curious. Meffie, I thought. Weird name.

“Listen, you two depraved rat traps,” I said, “I want to meet something called Meffie. Now! Come on, I’m dying here of curiosity.”

“Look, Junior, Meffie ain’t an amait. She’s a skunk, and if she’s in a foul mood, you’ll think the stink of rat is like the perfume of flowers. You just don’t know.”

“First of all, I don’t know what a skunk is, the stink of rat cannot be topped, I don’t think, and what kind of flowers. I wanna see her, now.” I snarled the last word and caused both of them to back away.

“Okay, take it easy,” Mutt chirped. “We’ll go, now, but before we do, we have to clue you in on what to expect and, especially, what not to do. Dig?” He came over to me and licked my nose. “And by the way, Little Guy, we’re not rat traps. Don’t ever insult us like that again.” His eyes narrowed, and I could see the faraawi on his back and tail raised slightly.

“Okay, I’m sorry. Didn’t know you were so touchy.” I took a breath. “So, what about skunks?”

“You think I’m touchy, wait ‘til you meet Meffie. First, skunks are leery of strangers, which you will be. Don’t charge in like you do here. Stand way back until we convince her that you’re okay. Okay?” I nodded. “She doesn’t talk our language very well, so depend on us to explain as best we can. Skunk talk is slow and mushy, so it’s easy to follow, but they make sounds that click and squeak, so we have to listen real close. She understands us pretty well, but she just don’t speak it very good.

“Now, she ain’t cuddly, so don’t go up and lick her nose or butt her head. She might bite you, or worse, spray you.”

“Spray? Like we spray?”

“No. When Meffie sprays, a green slime comes outta her butt, and the smell will put you away. She’s got fantastic aim and can hit you right in the eyes; that’ll blind you as you choke to death. Ferg and me ain’t never been sprayed, but we’ve seen it done. On a kilaab. Much as I hate kalb, I felt sorry for him as he screamed, then died with his mouth open gasping for air.”

I said nothing as I tried to take in what Mutt said. “Listen, guys, I think maybe I’ll stay here. I’d be too scared.”

“No, no,” Fergus chimed in. “You might accidentally run into one and not know what to do. Ain’t many around here. I think Meffie is the only one right now, but when she comes in, males pop up to get their nookie, like we do, don’t you know? Meffie’s a great intro to skunks because she ain’t mean like some we’ve seen. So let’s get going and save the blather for later.”

They led me to small woods near the lake. I’d seen it before but had never gone in. It was almost End of Light, and at first I felt like I was being swallowed. Outside noise was faint, but our steps, as quiet as they were, seemed to echo. Before long, though, I began to feel more and more at home. It smelled so good: wood, decaying leaves, dirt—all these smells rolled over me. I especially loved the feel of the soft leaves.