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Village People
One good smack on the forehead by a branch and I keep my head down as the world whips past. When the blur solidifies into individual trees, a quick peek reveals a sweat soaked wolf, straining on the rope as she hauls my bulk up hill. It’s definitely not as steep as the toboggan ride with Curt, but she’s dragging my dead weight as well. At the summit, she pauses, dropping the rope and wheezing as she sniffs the cold night air.
“Still smell the pack?” I ask, sitting up and peering into the shadows. Only the white carpet of snow provides any reflected light.
Dulcis ruffs in response, her tongue hanging out. After a hefty dribble, she snatches the rope back between her teeth.
“Take a moment,” I suggest. “You must be tired.”
Her wolf’s head swings round to give me a dark-eyed glare.
“Fine.” The word shoots out of my mouth as she yanks on the rope and the cart surges forward, dumping me on my back. I lay still, watching the night sky, which isn’t as thrilling as it sounds, since all I see is a blanket of cloud and snowflakes falling on my lashes.
The cart levels out and our speed increases, which must mean we’re racing across a flat plain. The faint echoes of wolf howls and bear growls remind me of horror movies; the moment just before the lone victim gets yanked into the shadows and dismembered.
When the flying cart gradually slows to a gentle glide, my eyes rise above the side, heart pounding with trepidation. As it turns out, we’re not under attack from a ghoul, ghost or vampire, we’re stopping because there’s no longer a wolf attached to the front of the cart. On the horizon, I spot Dulcis, a black smudge pounding across the snow, gaining distance with every stride.
“Wonderful. Abandon me, why don’t you?” I holler at her retreating figure. Only my voice returns to me.
I can’t just sit here, waiting for Curt to show up and rescue me, again. I might as well have a banner above my head reading, ‘Get your meaty snack here.’ I scramble out of the cart, bump my knee on the side and land in a heap by the runners, wishing I’d stayed in that nice warm mansion. Actually, given a choice, I’d pick Curt’s log cabin, but since no-one’s offering one, I plod in the direction of the racing wolf, praying I won’t be an easy dinner for any other wild animal prowling around. Knowing my luck, I’ll run into the Abominable Snowman.
I almost step on a black boot, sitting upright in the snow, like a sentry. I glance at it as I pass, wondering what happened to the owner. A few feet further on, its brother lays on its side next to bare human footprints, fading fast in the snowfall. Soon I’m weaving in and out of discarded trousers, jumpers and coats, spread all over the plain, as the wolves turned and sprinted after their prey, toes and heels morphing into a mass of paw prints.
I’m heaving in breath and staggering in a zigzag, desperately trying to fend off a heart attack, when howls and roars of wild battle rend the night air and, through falling snow, the first bear appears, rolling backwards, claws ripping at the wolf attached to his throat.
A few more steps and the snow globe clears enough for me to see fur flying in all directions, but it’s impossible to pick out any individuals.
I take it back; there’s Adamo. The whirlwind of enraged ginger bear beats on a wolf, hugged to his chest. As they spin, I get a glimpse of what looks like Alpha inside that crushing embrace. Huge teeth snap, straining to rip into the bear’s shoulder. Yep, that’s got to be Alpha.
“Stop!” I yell, but my voice gets smothered by the cacophony.
A thundering, scarred monster lands on them both, tearing them apart. General Ursid roars so loudly I feel the breeze from here.
I’d rather go hide right now, but Dulcis is somewhere in the middle of this chaos. How a vulnerable human can stop flying claws and teeth, I’ve no idea. I’m not thinking this thing through but, whatever I decide, I’ll have to make it fast. Ursid rises up on his back legs and swipes at Alpha. The wolf ducks and Ursid’s massive claws whistle past his snout, with barely an inch to spare.
A sweaty young wolf dives at Ursid, snapping at his face, but he hurls her onto the snow, pounding on her side. I know that coat. My girl is about to get ripped apart. Ginger paws cover the wolf as Adamo realises who she is, but Ursid isn’t giving way.
“Leave her alone!”
I wonder who yelled before realising it was me, flinging myself onto Ursid’s back like I’m riding rodeo. It’s about now I understand I’m going to die.
A high pitched shriek rends the air. Both Ursid and myself, astride his shoulders, look straight up as a naked Curt falls from the sky, morphing into his wolf form in freefall. He hits the snow, landing on four feet, delivering a pain-filled howl as his wounded hip wrenches on impact. Trousers, socks, an array of jumpers and a coat flutter down behind him and four heavy boots smack onto the ice with a crack.
Dulcis slithers out from under her ginger cage and smacks into Ursid’s belly, knocking him backwards. As his shoulders and my body head for the deck, a huge set of wide open claws shoot out of the sky and wrap around my right leg, pulling me clear and saving me from being crushed.
The world turns upside down as an eagle flies away, dangling me by the leg, my arms and free leg flapping in the wind, leather coat tails slapping me in the face.
“Put me down,” I holler, straining my neck to peer up. A scary frown perched above beady eyes glares back at me. Fabulous. It had to be Wings, of course. He squawks and opens his claws.
I plummet like a rock, screaming all the way, arms flapping in the hope I might miraculously learn to fly. A great wad of white stuff cushions my fall and I disappear inside the drift, mouth and nose filling with snow. Spitting and sneezing, I dig my way out of the minor avalanche, scraping snow left and right. The tunnel opens to reveal a terrifying free for all, now including a howling, limping wolf and a flapping great bird.
This is ridiculous. They’re all going to get killed or maimed and what good will that do? I scramble clear and emerge like an enraged snowman, arms gesticulating wildly.
“Stop! Stop it! STOP.”
Not a wolf, bear or bird listens and I’m not getting in the middle of it; I’d be sliced to pieces. But I can’t just stand here and watch. They can’t see me. I frantically scan the plain, spotting a raised rock bed, bang in the centre of the battle.
It would be, wouldn’t it?
I’m staring at it when an all too familiar howl pierces straight through me. How I can pick out Curt’s howl from amongst that racket, I don’t know, but I’m sure it’s him and he’s in pain. Enough of this, already.
Before I give myself a chance to debate what a suicidal idiot I’m being, I take off out of the blocks like Usain Bolt and sprint straight for that rock. There’s no point ducking and diving, trying to avoid being skewered; the battle’s moving like a fur kaleidoscope. I fling up a prayer for the terminally stupid as I run and my guardian angel must be flapping like a helicopter because claws and teeth fly above and around my face, missing by millimetres, but still missing me.
I run straight into the rock and bounce off with a thud, stunned I made it in one piece. Scrambling over the rock, I dig frozen fingertips into tiny holds and drag myself to the top. Staggering upright, I peer out over the battlefield and scream, “STOPPPP FIGHTINGGGG,” whilst waving both arms.
Nobody notices.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
Right.
I’ve no idea what happens next. You can blame my angel for the choice of song, but I suddenly decide to start singing. Well, singing is a relative term. Wailing to a vague tune might be closer, but I’m not here to win Crumbly’s Got Talent.
Why this song?
No idea.
But it has the desired effect.
Little by little, claws slow down, teeth let go, howling quietens and roars subside, until a frozen tableau of scruffed up fur, oozing bloody wounds and stunned expressions turns to the crazy lady on the rock...
Body jigging about, making strange shapes. Er, letters?
And belting out YMCA.
