The Rightful Heir (19 page)

“You've come to see Stinky, have you not?” a strange voice asked.

Roscoe squinted in confusion, “Who…who are you?”

The head of a dirty white llama poked out from the shadow. “I am myself. Who else would I be?”

Roscoe stooped to get a good look at the new resident, mesmerized by the long black eyelashes fluttering above the creature's big blue eyes. The llama instantly leaned back and spit in Roscoe's face. “Oh, geez! What was that for?!”

“You question the wrong thing.”

“What?” Roscoe was agitated. “Look…where's my dad?”

“Ahhh. The
correct question.” The llama smiled with its giant front teeth.

“Great. Now will you
correctly
answer it?”

The llama got eye level with the goat. “Your father is not here,” he said matter of factly.

“Uh…wow! You're quite the guru! Boy am I glad to know that!” Roscoe shook his head in disbelief. “Maybe you can tell me—”

“Your father has passed on.” The llama interrupted in a soft voice.

“Passed on? What does that mean? Passed on
what?”

“Life.”

“Life? Wha…what is that supposed to mean?” Roscoe recoiled as the llama spit at him again, covering his face with mucous. “Stop doing that! Ugh, nasty!”

The llama
smiled strangely. “Roscoe…”

“H-How do you know my name?”

“Because that is your name, is it not?”

“Well, yes, but—”

“Your father is dead.”

The words stunned him. He tried to believe them. “My…my father is…dead?”

“Yes, your dead father is
dead.”

“Dead?” Roscoe asked like a child.

“Alive?”

“Alive?” The goat asked in confusion. “Who's alive?”

“We are.”

“What on earth are you talking about?!” Roscoe didn't care if the two old hags heard him yell. “You're not making any sense. Why don't you—” His face was again covered in spit. The little goat wanted to scream at the top of his lungs, but at that moment he again looked into the llama's beautiful eyes and lost all concentration.

The llama's neck slowly and rhythmically waved back and forth. “Ah, yes,” he said peacefully. “Good question, little Roscoe. What on the earth am I saying? For what is the earth saying? If I am to listen to what the earth says first, then I can say.” Roscoe felt a sense of well-being in his semi-hypnotic state. “Now, let me tell you that I knew your father, Stinky.”

Roscoe blinked. “You-you did?”

“Yes,” the llama smiled.

“How long have you been—”

“Here?” Roscoe nodded. “I came to your father when I heard he was dying.”

“How long has he been dying?”

“From the day he was born. Just as you and I are dying from the day we are born. Goat, it is not by our will that we live to die,
but by our choice that we die to live.”

Roscoe started to laugh lazily and his mind melted in bliss. He still felt sorrow over his dad's death, but the llama's words were bringing him peace.

“Mr. Llama—”

“Dolly.” The long necked creature smiled again with his large teeth.

“Dolly? Are you a girl?” Roscoe asked in a relaxed voice.

“Do you ask this because you believe I am a female or because you want to believe I am not a male?”

“Oh man.” Roscoe exhaled. “I could use a nap.”

“A nap won't get you what you seek,” the llama whispered.

“What do you mean, ma'am?”

“Sir… I am a sir but prefer not to be called ‘sir.'”

Roscoe laughed sleepily, “I have a friend who has a girl's name but he's…he's just a real
pig
. Huhuh…”

“And does that make you a
real
goat?”

“A wha-?” Roscoe's head bobbed back and forth with Dolly's.

“A goat? Do you know what kind of goat you are meant to be?”

“I'm a… I'm a fainting goat.”

“You're not fainting right now, are you?”

“I'm not much of anything right now, ma'am, uh, I mean, sir. I mean…”

“Do you know what your father thinks you are?”

“My father? My dead-alive father?”

“Yes. He thinks you are a wild goat!” Dolly's big blue eyes pierced Roscoe's.

“A wild goat? Me?”

“Yes, you. Stinky's last wish was for you to fulfill your destiny and become one with the wild.”

“My destiny? Stinky? Alive?”

Dolly jerked back and spit
a large glob of mucous onto the little goat's face.

Roscoe came to himself. “Dad!” he cried. “My dad wants me to go back to see our wild cousins.” The llama smiled at him and he started to cry.

“Tears come and tears flow, but your father loved you and will always love you. Be at peace, Roscoe, son of Stinky.”

Roscoe knew at that moment what he had to do. He nodded to Dolly and turned around, leaving quietly by the hole he'd come through.

The door slammed open. “What'cha doing in here, you creepy ol' thing?” the hag named Ernestine walked up to Dolly, who stared at her, smiling strangely. “You've got to be the ugliest thing we ever owned on this—”
Ptooey!
“Ugh!!…Ughh!!!” Ernestine's fingers ran down her face as Mabel, the other hag, laughed uncontrollably at the sight of Ernestine's face covered in llama spit.

Roscoe trotted down the road, his mind feeling washed and dried twice over. The grief in his heart seemed held back by his sudden urge to fulfill his dad's last request. He was determined. He had a purpose. Now all he had to do was explain this to the others. “Dolly the llama?” He gulped. “They're never gonna believe me!”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

B
ENJAMIN LISTENED
while Clementine told about their last journey. He smiled at the
exaggerations—mainly the pig slaying a giant warthog named Walter. As it neared noon he grew hungry. “Hey, I'm gonna go back to the house for lunch. I'll see you later, okay?”

“Certainly, Your Majesty,” Clementine replied. “Can we join you?”

“Uhhh…” Benjamin snickered at the thought of having a fox, two dogs, and a pot-bellied pig at his kitchen table sharing a meal. Then it occurred to him that his mother could be home. “Probably not, guys…just to play it safe. My mom might be there and I missed the school bus.”

“Is that bad?” Mac asked.

“Well, according to grownups it's bad. I'll come back to see you before you head to Persly's Woods.”

“Alright, Sire. I hope Roscoe comes back soon, too.” Clementine looked impatient.

As Benjamin left he again considered his predicament.
Shoot! I've missed half a day of school already! Should I call Mom and tell her?
Walking up the driveway, the warm sun touched his hair and face. It felt good to be outside, much better than in some boring classroom. He was glad he missed the bus and had a day of freedom. It was even better when he found that his mom hadn't come home yet. He helped himself to PB&J sandwiches, then changed into dry clothes.

Roscoe was a
little nervous as he approached the fox den. He didn't know how the others would react to his new purpose. He also wasn't aware of how silly he looked with dried-up llama spit covering his face. He walked up to the den.

“Hey, Roscoe!” a voice shouted from below.

“Oh, hey, Squeak. What's up?”

“Nothin'. Just looking for something to do.”

Roscoe snorted. “If you listen closely, there's a
lot
to do at the moment.”

“What? Like going to Persly's Woods?”

“Yeah, that among other things.”

“My mom won't let me join the others. She's been paranoid about me doing anything
fun
ever since Dad…”

“Oh,” Roscoe remembered. “I understand.”

“It's not fair, though!” The field mouse hopped on top of the den. “I want to help the kingdom, too!”

“Well, we all have our own things we have to do, Squeak.”

“What do you mean, Roscoe?”

“Nothing. I…I need to go in now and talk to King Benjamin and the others—”

“King Benjamin's not here, Roscoe. He went home to eat.”

Roscoe climbed into the hole and disappeared. “It's just as well. The fewer people I disappoint, the better.”

“D
OES IT SEEM LIKE THERE ARE FEWER TREES NOW?”
Jonah looked at Malcolm and saw that he was exhausted.

“Yeah…it kind of does.”

“Oh, boy am I tired!” Jonah closed his eyes as they ran through the bluestem.

“Let's stop for a minute, Jonah. I'll climb that tree and see what's up ahead.”

The pug fell over and lay in the tall grass, almost falling asleep
instantly. Malcolm yawned in a long stretch, then clawed his way up to the top of an evergreen. The treetop bent over as he balanced on a branch, the sun glaring behind his silhouette. “Wow! We've come a long way!” he shouted down with new energy.

Jonah jumped up. “What do you see?”