They are on the ground and Youngster knows it’s not a good place for them: not in the rain, not in the Bright. He tugs anxiously at his mother’s ears.
She shakes her head, and then stops and winces. She has two bulges of pink flesh where her eyes used to be.
They’re at the bottom of The Tall. It’s smooth-barked, stretching far up into the dazzling sky, and he can see that she cannot climb it again.
From over in the next territory, Strong grunts in their direction. Youngster’s mother doesn’t bother to grunt back. She sits perfectly still, her back against the trunk as though it still somehow provides safety. Strong’s grunts fill their whole territory, but he won’t come down to the ground to find them.
The Bright is disappearing; soon it will be dark and then his mother will be able to see, will take them into the safety of tree and branch, away from this dangerous flat land from which any creature can pounce upon them. They cannot see what is coming, cannot get away from anything that approaches them.
Youngster looks around him and scents the air. The Safe is far lower than The Tall, with rough bark that’s easier to grip. If he can get his mother to go there, perhaps she will be able to climb it. But it’s not close to them.
Come?
She ignores him, holding herself still. He doesn’t know what to do, but every strand of fur on his body vibrates, telling him they cannot stay here.
I’m going. He clambers off her back and onto the ground, shuddering as he meets cold, wet mud. He gambols forwards, hating the feel of the earth squelching under his paws.
Come back!
He ignores her order and bounds another few steps towards The Safe. Maybe she will come if he keeps going.
He hears her stir, sniff, move her head around to try to find him. Where are you?
He doesn’t answer, but stops and sits on his bottom, waiting for her to come. Their trees rise up around them, eight rising trunks that make up their world. The rain falls, scattering through the leaves and landing on his head.
She uncurls herself and lurches forwards onto all fours and he breathes encouragement in her direction. She takes a few slouching steps, then another few.
Then, out of nowhere, a terrible growl rips through the air and he hears the crashing of something large coming towards them.
Run, Youngster! Climb!
It’s not Strong; it’s something much worse. There’s no time to reach The Safe but The Hidden is only a few steps away and he scampers for it in terror, hearing his mother coming behind him, hearing whatever is chasing her just a few steps behind. It gives another guttural snarl as Youngster reaches The Hidden and begins to scramble. He is so slow; he will never climb out of its reach in time. He can smell its hot breath and its hunger and its teeth, and his claws scrabble on the smooth, slippery bark.
Then the creature yelps and suddenly his mother is alongside him and he jumps to her back. She bounds up the smooth trunk in great leaps, faster than he ever could, and the creature below howls its fury at having lost them.
They reach the first fork and stop. The thick branches and leaves of The Hidden hang protectively around them. The creature is circling the tree below them, jumping and barking, but they are out of its reach and now it cannot see them. Youngster is trembling and he can feel his mother shaking too.
He clings to her. What did you do?
Clawed him.
She is so brave! He holds her even tighter, buries her face into his fur. She winces again and he raises his head. A dark red blotch stains the fur on her arm, but she clambers up higher. By feel she finds them a fork and wedges herself into it.
Are you hurt? he asks her.
I felt its teeth.
Youngster shudders.
Sleep now. Soon the Bright will be gone.
He closes his eyes and holds on to her, waiting for the soft darkness. When it comes, she’ll take him higher to feast on new leaf tips, and everything will be right with their world again.