Corliss had walked for so long that his legs now felt wobbly, whereas Inari-san was literally making leaps and bounds. From his waist to head, the fisherman appeared human, except for some patches of red fur around the neck and ears. But his legs and arms were those of his other self—the fox. And with those furry, nimble limbs, he cut through the forest terrain with surprising ease.
“For an old man, you’re fast.” Corliss had been trailing behind the spry sprite for quite some time. “Inari-san, I need to rest a minute.”
The fisherman stretched his hind legs. “Speed is survival in these woods. There are hungry creatures about. Any of them would be happy to come across a meal with slow feet.”
“You mean the Kappas, don’t you? Or those goblins who stole my sister?”
“Kappas are a menace—that’s all. They eat my fish, the pests. The goblins, as you call them, are Tengus, and they do not eat us. There is one, though—not a Tengu but a Daitengu. It wanders the deep valleys. Temblod. A hulking, heinous fiend. It would snap both of us in two—for nothing more than wicked amusement.”
“Oh, great. Another beast to watch out for.” Corliss plucked a three-leaf clover and twirled its stem between his thumb and forefinger. “Hey, did the Tengus take my sister to that Temblod thing?”
“The Daitengu and the Tengus dwell apart. Only when the Tengu king summons the fowl monster does it come to do his bidding. Temblod has killed men, other Inaris, even children in these woods and along the mountain range. It has been said that hateful spirits possess Temblod. Evil, after all, clings to evil.”
Corliss let out his tongue and ran it over his lips, which were chapped and cracked. Seeing that, Inari-san disappeared into the leafy undergrowth of blue-green ferns. When he popped back out, his mouth was clutching a bunch of long stems, many dripping at their ends. “Take these.” Inari-san raised his chin. “Squeeze them together.”
Corliss reached out and took the lime-colored stems from the mouth of the fisherman-fox. He then pressed them together with the palms of his hands, holding the ends over his tongue. Each produced droplets of water, which he let drip and trickle down the back of his throat. The water was refreshing, in spite of its bitter celery flavor, but Corliss wasn’t ready to continue on with their trek just yet.
Inari-san straightened out his legs and arms, unbending his knees and elbow joints as the fur pulled back into his wrinkly skin. In seconds he’d turned himself back into a complete man.
“You must go on, Corliss. Your cousin must take the—”
“—mirror,” Corliss said. “You knew I had it all along, didn’t you?”
The fisherman wiggled his nose. “The mirror is made of rare minerals and metals, some from islands far away. They give it a distinctive odor.”
“Then why didn’t you take it to Digger yourself? You’re way faster than I’ll ever be.”
“In fox form, I am indeed fast. But not as a man. These legs are too old. Too creaky. They can’t climb anything higher than a stump. As a fox, I can climb, and climb high. But not with a heavy mirror between my teeth.”
“Climb? What are you talking about? Climb what?”
Inari-san glanced at the treetops.
“My sister’s the climber, not me.”
“That’s a good thing for her, Corliss.”
“So, she’s up in the trees?”
“That’s where the Tengus must have taken her. Along with the others.”
“Sheesh! What’s next? Are you sure you know where we’re going?”
The fisherman sniffed the air. “That way.” He pointed with a bony-knuckled finger. All Corliss could see were more trees.
Inari-san suddenly dropped into a crouch among the ferns. “Get down.”
“What is it?” Corliss could swear he saw the fisherman’s ears twitching.
“Down, I said. Now.”
Corliss squatted next to Inari-san. He couldn’t hear anything at first. But then came the faint murmur of voices, which grew by the second. And soon he saw them. The same brute and boys he’d seen at the port. “Grudgings,” he said under his breath, searching for someplace lower to hide. At that instant he caught sight of the sprite’s tail darting into a jumble of ferns. Inari-san was gone.
Corliss lay flat against the cool ground, his rucksack at his side. Although his whole body was beneath the fern fronds, the Grudgings would see him lying there if they didn’t change direction. Or was he doomed? They were skillful hunters. As he watched them trudge through the leafy knee-high undergrowth, it seemed as though all three had sensed they weren’t alone.
Big Bee stopped and held out his snake-tattooed arm. His hand—flat, palm down—slowed the boys. His other hand motioned for them to spread out. Bruno was wearing a thick leather belt, on which he’d fastened ten or more knives. A bow was slung over his shoulder and the quiver across his back was loaded with arrows. The other boy, Braden, loomed toward Corliss with the stealth of a ghost, scouring every inch around him. Corliss didn’t breathe, didn’t blink. Braden came to a standstill—so close that if Corliss had a fishing rod, he’d be able to scratch some grime off the Grudgings boy’s boot.
Corliss shifted only his eyes, while Braden scanned the sea of ferns. Big Bee was coming their way with a butcher’s knife in his tattooed hand, the blade raised and ready to chop at whatever might lunge at him. The hunter then broke the silence. “Spot anything, Braden?”
Braden looked straight down at Corliss. Their eyes locked.
Corliss didn’t know if he should run away or fight.
“Hey! What d’yuh see, Braden?”
Big Bee’s voice was louder; he was getting closer.
Corliss could feel his heart beating against the earth.
Then Braden looked away, up at the trees. “All clear. Nothing over this way.”
Corliss finally exhaled. Not out of the woods yet, he thought. Big Bee was near enough to catch a whiff of, and the hunter smelled like a sweaty pair of old shoes. Soon Corliss would have to make a run for it.
But Bruno was now holding his bow and reaching over his shoulder for an arrow.
“What is it, boy?” Big Bee called to him. “See something over there?”
“Not sure,” Bruno replied between clenched teeth, and with two fingers he brought the arrow to the bowstring.
“Then we move,” Big Bee commanded. “Tengus will be coming. You can bet your bottom dollar they’re combing the woods for us right now. Keep your pace. And an eye out for the river. We’ll be back on the ship by nightfall.”
Bruno was still.
“Move on now, Bruno. You hear me?”
Bruno slowly pulled back the bowstring. And again Big Bee and Braden stopped dead in their tracks.
With a sudden swoosh, the arrow streaked directly over the ferns.
Corliss heard a yelp, and a whimper. Bruno reached back for another arrow, but stopped short of the quiver. A second arrow would not be necessary.
All three Grudgings went to inspect the area where the arrow had landed. Corliss lifted his head slightly, then cringed when he heard Big Bee’s outburst—a big barrel of a laugh that froze his blood.
“At least we won’t be going home empty-handed.” Big Bee gave Bruno a pat on the back, immensely pleased with his son’s shot. He reached down and picked Inari-san up by the scruff of the neck. The arrow had gone through his now half-human, half-fox leg. Big Bee unfolded a burlap sack, then dropped the injured sprite into the bag, closed it with a yank of two strings, and let it hang over his shoulder.
There was nothing Corliss could do but listen to his new friend whimper, and watch as the Grudgings strode off.
The Grudgings boy looked right at me but didn’t say a thing, he thought. Maybe there’s a shred of good in that family. And that meant Inari-san might be okay.
He waited until he was certain he was alone, then stood and faced the direction in which Inari-san had pointed. The same direction Corliss would now have to go on his own.