The Bird And The Shadow

Chapter Eleven

Note: Wowza, an actually new chapter. Hype! Warning though, this one's a doozy. And by a doozy I mean hella long.

The sky was moving.
The Little One woke, bleary eyed and still a bit drowsy. He lifted his head to find that he was leaning against a glass window. Blinking furiously, he looked around. It was a long room. He realized he was sitting in a cushioned seat, rows of them all around, a few with other creatures. They all seemed rather calm, in contrast to him. He saw the world sweep by outside the window, cornfields blanketed by moonlight. All the while, he could hear a rumbling noise from under the floor.
Scrambling in panic and surprise, he almost fell out of his seat. His heart pounded as he realized that he had no idea where he was, and that he was still alive. He had almost screamed, but luckily his paws thought more quickly than his mouth, so he could muffle the noise with them. The little squeal only got him a couple brief glances from other people, but that was all. He took a deep breath, like his mother often did when she began to panic, and told himself to stay calm because "One can accomplish so much more with a resting mind," as she liked to say.
He stood on his seat and turned to the neatly dressed elephant behind him.
"E'scuse me Sir," he chirped in his best talking-politely-to-adults voice, "But where are we?"
The elephant looked up from the paper he was reading to see The Little One's eyes peek over the seat. "Oh, well young man, I believe that the last stop was in Adenauer."
"Last stop?"
"Yes. Fall asleep now, did you?"
The Little One shook his head. "Ah'm sorry Sir, I meant where is the place that we're sitting in right now?"
"I believe we're in Car Three."
The Little One tilted his head at him.
"You do know we're on a train, don't you lad?" Asked the elephant.
"A what?"
So it was the room that was moving, and not the sky.
He could tell by the look on the elephant's face that he found his questions quite strange. "Did you not purchase a ticket before boarding?"
"Well, no. I don't really think I remember ever getting on, ever, actually."
"I think you ought to have a talk with the conductor. Tall fellow, next cart over, lad," the elephant commented skeptically.
"Okey doke," he yawned, drowsily getting up to walk. "Thank ya mister." That did sound like a good idea. He couldn't just tell any old person that he was lost.
"People are dangerous," his Mama and Papa would always warn him. "Use your words carefully, because they could be used against you."
"Like what kinda' words?" He'd ask.
"Things like where we keep our food," his father would say,
"Or where we keep our log," his mother would respond. They used a log to block the door at night.
"But how'dya know the right words?" The Little One would inquire.
"When you hear what you want to hear," they'd say in agreement.
"And make sure that not only are your words the right words," they'd continue, "but that you're talking to the right person."
Surely The Conductor was the right person. He would get him home immediately. The Little One gave himself a little pat on the back for using the right words with the elephant man and for knowing who the right person was.
Just after he started walking, the elephant called out."Oh, wait a second now."
He picked something off of the ground with his trunk . "You dropped this," he said, walking over to hand him a boarding ticket.
The Little One took held the ticket in his paw and studied it, puzzled.
"That's weird. Where did this come from?"
"Well, it fell out of your pocket."
"That's funny. I didn't buy it."
"It would do you good to hang onto it, regardless. You'll need one if you plan to stay on, y'know."
The elephant headed back to his seat and poked his trunk back into his paper. "Consider it luck, I suppose," he chuckled.
The Little One looked down at the ticket. He'd never been on a "train" before. He wasn't sure what it was supposed to be like exactly or how "stops" worked. The situation was, as his mother would typically say, "a cataclysmic, catastrophic calamity," or some other big word of the sort. He approached the elephant man again. "Ah'm sorry ta' bother you again mister, but does the train stop at any town by a river?"
The elephant man gave a sympathetic sounding laugh. "Why, nearly all the towns in Fólki are by a river."
The Little One just stared blankly. The elephant shook his head. "Goodness. You're not from around here, I take it." The Little One shook his head.
"Well," grunted the elephant as he turned himself towards the window, folding his paper, "As much as I'd like to play customer service, I need to catch up on some much-needed rest. I implore you to ask the conductor about any further questions. My best regards, lad."
The Little One opened his mouth to ask him what "Fólki" was, but he thought better of it. He was lucky the man had been so friendly up to now. He tucked the ticket into his raincoat pocket decided to take the elephant's advice.
He walked down the hall once again, making his way to the doors. Without the elephant to talk to, he became more aware of how calm and quiet it was. The drone of the wheels rolling on the track chugged a sleepy rhythm. The steady noise and gentle rumble gave The Little One a feeling of comfort, like when his father rocked him to sleep as his mother hummed a lullaby. He thought of how, on any other night, that's where he would be instead of here in this strange place.
He wondered how he got there. He remembered the drowning, but could it have been a dream? It was such a strange thing. Perhaps he had fallen asleep in the woods and he was dreaming this very moment. He pinched himself, but he remained right where he was.
The Little One figured it didn't matter how he got there, but that he could get back home.
On his tiptoes, he opened the heavy metal door at the back, with some effort, and the cold air rushed in. Before him was a gated bridge, linking Car Three to the next car over.
The only thing separating him from falling to the dusty tracks below and into the thick field were a few thin, iron railings. He eagerly hauled the sliding door open and dashed in.
As he slipped inside, he became aware of the utter, unbroken silence. Not a content, fluid silence like the kind that would fill his house when everyone else had fallen asleep. This silence felt forced and edgy. It felt like a hiding silence.
"Hello?" he squeaked, "Is there a Mister Conductor in here?"
No response. But, he still felt like someone might be there. There were no seats or windows. Just a part-way open sliding door to the left. Though, there were plenty of empty boxes, piled all around casting clusters of cubic shadows. He tread carefully around the room.
"I need some help," he said, to no one in particular. "See, I was walking home when I-" he stopped. In the box at the end of the room, there was a single hole. Looking closer, he saw something. It was an eye, looking right at him.
He shrieked in surprise. Then, he screamed as a shadowed figure quickly scrambled out of the box towards him. He turned and started back towards the door, but he felt a boot hold him down by the tail and a hand cover his mouth. He struggled, trying to shout for help through their fingers.
"Ssh, ssh, stop screaming! I'm not gonna' hurt you," they whispered frantically. "I'm gonna' let you go, but you gotta' promise that you'll be quiet. Ok?"
He nodded and they released him, lifting their boot from his tail and uncovering his mouth. The Little One turned to look at his captor. Weakly illuminated by moonlight, he saw a girl—older than him, he assumed. It was hard for him to tell in the dim light whether she was a wolf or a fox, but he figured she must be one or the other. She appeared to be wearing some sort of pilot hat with goggles over her unkempt hair. Aside from that, he couldn't get a very good look at her in the dark. Immediately, he began screaming again.
The girl jumped and grabbed him a second time. The little one bit her hand, and she let go. "Damn it!" she exclaimed in a whispered growl. "Listen kid," she said quietly, panicked, "You can't let anyone know I'm here!" She hissed, sounding desperate.
"Why? Who're you?" The Little One asked accusingly.
"Two days ago, I snuck out of a labor camp from Adenauer and I'm trying to train hop my way back over the border. They already have notice signs stapled at a lot of the train stations, so they're gonna be looking for me."
"Wha?"
"Come on, you gotta help me out! You're just a kid, right? You know how bad it is without The Sideshow and Scrivenor laws, don't you?"
"What? I'm sorry, but I got no idea what you're talking about."
"Just plea—"
Just then, the door at the front of the car slammed open and she froze, wide-eyed. A white light cut through the dark, glaring vividly, hurting The Little One's eyes. In the doorway stood a giraffe with a flashlight. As he bent his neck down under the doorway, The Little One could see a cap resting on his head with "conductor" displayed at the front.
"Who's screamin' back there?"
He shined the bright light around the room before landing it on the girl. The Little One got a slightly better look at the scruffy, orange hair, but she bolted to the side door and jumped out of the moving train and into the thick fields before the conductor could finish shouting, "Stop right there, runaway!"
The conductor stuck his long neck out the door and shouted, "Hit the breaks!"
The wheels screeched across the tracks as the train slowed to a halt. The conductor ran out of the car, leaving The Little One by himself.
Confused, he rushed after the conductor, paw and hoof clanging on the metal bridge and back into the passenger car. Inside, the passengers' worried and confused chatter filled the train.
"Why are we stopping?"
"I'm going to be late!"
"But I have a funeral to attend!"
"I demand to see the conductor!"
He saw the conductor rush into the locomotive and shut the metal door behind him. There was shouting from inside the driver's car.
Through the window, he saw a group of train workers trudging through the thick fields, shredding through the dark with their flashlights.
The Little One ran out after them, slipping past the rabble, through the car door and out into the night. He stood near the border of the field and looked into the dark grass, towering over him, and pondered going in after the girl. He didn't really understand what was going on, but she was clearly in big trouble.
Because of me, he thought.
It was a crazy idea, but the girl had also said things about labor camps and some sort of laws. He knew nothing of them, and they could be something important. Did they apply to him? Was he in danger here? He recalled their puzzling, albeit brief and one-sided, conversation.
"You're just a kid, right? You know how bad it is without the ... and ... laws, don't you?"
Just a kid. What was that supposed to mean?
Well if it's got something to do with why she's in trouble, I might be in trouble too, he thought.
Or she could just be crazy. What if she wasn't a right person? No one else he'd seen or heard in this strange place had said anything similar so far. Then again, everyone else he'd met was an adult. Perhaps it was the contrary; maybe she was the only one he could trust.
But even if she was crazy, it was his fault she was in trouble. His screaming had alerted the conductor. He must have used the wrong words. After all, he had barely used any. Helping her out would be the right thing to do. But then again, how would he be able to help her in the first place? It might be the wiser choice to just get back inside and find things out for himself. She must be far away by now, after all.
But I should still try! He told himself. Or should he? Was helping wrong people the same as talking to them? He didn't know anymore.
He didn't have time to make a decision. A hand swiftly grabbed him by the collar and pulled him into the dense grass.
"One peep and I nail you by the tail to those tracks."
"You're still here?"
"Shush."
He motioned his paw over his mouth and pretended to toss something away.
"What was that supposed to be?" she asked.
"It means I zippered my mouth and threw away the key," he whispered.
"That doesn't make sense. Why would you need a key if you used a zip—"
They froze as a light shined their way. They held their breath as it lingered for a moment. When it turned away, they slinked into the deep brush and crept away silently.
For a long time, The Little One followed her without saying a word, hoping that the girl could somehow help him make sense of the situation. The whole time, he kept worrying about whether she was the right person to follow. It was about as long and boring as helping his father pull weeds while he told him about pottery. After what would have been about two plate-making incidents and the story of how he got his name, they emerged from the grass to see a long, dirt road, gently touched by the soft, weary moonlight. Stepping onto the path, the soft dirt cushioned his feet, reminded him that he wasn't wearing shoes.
"I think we're in the clear," she said.
And they continued walking down the road.
"Hey kid, you're allowed to talk now."
The Little One looked down, considering what to say first.
"Shy type, huh?" the girl grumbled in a manner The Little One took to be judgemental.
The Little One's ears perked up."Hey, I'm not shy! Shy people are scared to talk, an' I am not scared of you," he huffed. "It's just, I make sure I only talk when I really have to and I just have a whole lotta' questions because I am really, really lost 'n some of'em might not be worth asking 'n my papa says that you shouldn't talk to strangers unless you absolutely have to, so I hadda' pick if I should ask about camping or the train or what's your name or the Scrivvy-who-now laws, or—"
"Alright, alright, I gotcha," The girl interrupted. "Geez, long-winded much? How about, I ask the questions?"
"Okey doke."
"So, what exactly do you want from me?"
"What makes ya' think I want something?"
The fox gave him a look. "Because you followed me, duh."
"Well actually, you brought me with you," The Little One interjected.
"Yeah, but first you went outside."
"Well, I was going to follow you, I guess," he complied. "But also,  I woke up on the train, and I don't remember how I got there except I saw this lady and she made me fall in a lake with hands and it was dark and when I found you, I was looking for the conductor so I could ask him about where we were, but instead, you were there. Then, you started sayin' all this crazy stuff about camping and laws and sideshows'n I was so confused," he explained in his best talking-to-big-kids voice. "So I guess I did go after you, but also I need help."
"So in short, you're lost." The fox scratched her ear. "And you want my help? Well, if it's a chaperone you're lookin' for, you went after the wrong fox. I'm not gonna do any hand-holding while running from the law. But you can follow me to wherever you gotta' go, as long as it's on my path."
"But that's the thing!" The Little One exclaimed. "I don't know where I am, or how I got here, or how to get home. Also, I'm tired, can we sit down?"
"Okay, well where're you from?" The fox asked.
The Little One shrugged.
"You don't know where you're from?" She asked, in disbelief. "And you expect me to help you get home?"
"I'll know my home when I see it," The Little One said.
She lifted an eyebrow. "Well alright then." She brought a hand to her chin. "So you said you suddenly woke up on the train? You were probably drugged and kidnapped by some landowners in Adenauer or something. That would explain the weird things you saw— some nonsense about hands in lakes? And, no."
The Little One kicked a pebble along the road. "Aw," he groaned.
"Hey," she snapped her fingers next to his head so he would look at her. "Ya' know why I brought you with me?"
"Fer' good company?"
"Psh, no. I'm not sure how you do things in your town, but around here, when you almost get someone arrested, you officially owe them one."
"Owe them one what?"
"A favor, of course."
"Oh," said The Little One cheerfully, now tossing the pebble and catching it in his paws. "Whaddaya' want me to do?
"I'll figure it out."
"Hmm," The Little One pondered. "So you'll help me get home?"
"As long as it's convenient for me. I'm just gonna' warn you now, I'm not going out of my way to walk you to your porch, say g'day to your mommy and stay for dinner, alright little guy? Once you do me that favor," she tossed her thumb back, "You're outta here."
"That's okay, we don't have a porch."
She laughed at that. A short one, somewhere between a chuckle and a giggle. It wasn't even funny. Why do older people always laugh at you for no reason? He wondered with a frown.
The fox gave him a playful, light punch to the right shoulder, which didn't hurt but confused him."But for now, it's a done deal," the fox said.
The Little One wondered what made a done deal different than a regular deal. "So, what about the camps?"
"Hm." She brought a hand to her chin again, as if thinking where to start. "Well, it's gonna be real hard to explain everything, since you're not from around'n all," she chuckled. She stretched her arms, yawning exaggeratedly. "I'll clear it up tomorrow."
"Aw, what? Tomorrow?"
"Yeah, I'm sleepy and we're almost to this abandoned barn I saw awhile ago."
"Sleep?" He asked. "I'm sleeping in a barn with you?"
"Yeah," she said. "If I'm gonna be your guide and your gonna be my favor-doer, then we're gonna have to keep track of each other for a bit."
"But I'm not sleepy! I slept all day." He demonstrated by running in circles around her as she walked.
"Yeah? Well, I ran and hid the whole day, so I think I deserve at least a good three hours to doze off on an old pile of hay."
The Little One groaned. "I gotta wait a whole three hours?"
"Hey, I thought you said you were tired."
"Yeah but— "
"Hey look! There it is over there!" she blurted, pointing to the silhouette sitting on the horizon, moonlight painted over lightly.
They trudged through the field, approaching the old barn. Despite the chipping paint, creaky boards, and grassy smell, it seemed somewhat cozy. The girl plopped down onto a pile of hay. "We'll be on our way, bright and early tomorrow," she yawned. "Say kid,"
"Yeah?"
"You got a name? 'Cus I'm getting tired of calling you 'hey kid'."
"Nope, not yet," he responded, shuffling around in the hay.
"Oh." She turned over. "'Kay then."
As he stood in the doorway, casting a pensive shadow over the resting girl, he assessed his current situation.  Was this a good idea? he wondered. Is this safe? His mother would probably not approve of him lending his trust to this stranger. Especially not this girl— odd, and a little bit rude. But, looking at her laying there, weary and vulnerable, and looking at the crooked home she had decided to share with him, if for only a night, he noted that she was also putting her trust in him.
And if she trusted him, she must think that he is an alright person.
There also seemed to be nothing keeping him from leaving right then and there. In fact, the girl seemed to be a bit unhappy with him being there. He could leave any moment he wanted to.
The Little One buried himself in hay, all covered but his head and toes. It was itchy, but it would do for tonight."Whaddabout your name?" he asked her, muffled by hay.
"Call me Dusty."
"G'night Dusty."
She snored in response.
The gentle wind blew through the fields, quietly whistling through the grass as though it were singing the two to sleep.
And they did.

жжж

Sometimes, you have one of those nights. The nights where you can't help but glance around at the corners of your room, over and over again. The nights where you might toss and turn as though you're being grilled over an open fire.
For Preston, it was one of those nights. Not because of the snores and shuffles of the others around him. Each time he drifted closer to rest, mind settling and succumbing to darkness, he would remember the creature's jagged smile; the crack of her neck as it twisted around. He pictured those teeth, both the sharp fangs and the blunt, misplaced molars, ripping apart the young boy he had abandoned.
He'd have nightmares for sure. He turned his pillow on it's cool side for what must have been the seventeenth time and glanced up at the clock again, as though he could turn time back by staring at it harder. Two twenty-five in the morning. Work tomorrow would be nightmarish enough.
He wished he could just whistle himself a song. That would calm him down. But, the other soldiers would wake up and Lord knows that when someone who hates you and  worked all day gets woken up, it's not pretty for anyone.
Hopefully, they wouldn't have another assembly. He could just see himself falling, face-forward, right at The Ereishka's feet as she stalked around the room. With his luck, she would probably trip over him. He could say goodbye to his head, then. Rubbing his eyes, he conceded that his current train of thought wasn't helping him sleep very well. But in light of recent events, there wasn't really anything better to think about.
He figured he should try and think about nothing.
He wrapped himself in his rough, scruffy blanket, leaving just a big enough hole in his cave of sheets for his nose to peek out. He wrapped his old scar a bit more tightly, since the lack of fur growing over the pink flesh made it a bit colder. Closing his already-covered eyes, he tried to focus on the dark, rhythmic nothing.
When you have been surrounded by a certain noise for a long time, you tend to get used to it. Like the sound of your own breathing, it is then just a small part of everything else. Eventually, you wouldn't be able to tell the noise from silence. The hum of everyone around Preston had become just that. Like the night air filling his lungs, leaving his lungs, it was a part of the day; a part of his life. It was silent. It was nothing.
He lay there staring into his sheets, the way a hopeful young lady stares into a murky harbor when waiting for her love to return from a hard-fought battle overseas. Expectantly, anxiously so was he ready to glimpse the vessel peaking over the horizon, The S.S. Drowsiness.
He probably looked like a cocoon, or a bean, or a sack of potatoes, he figured. He knew a caterpillar once who had turned into a cocoon. Perhaps this is what he—

No, wait. I have to think of nothing, he recalled.

Nothing, he reminded himself.

Nothing.

Nothing, nothing, nothing...

But, then he realized something. He unwrapped his head and looked around at the sleeping soldiers surrounding him, all wrapped in the same manner, making them all look like spilled beans, scattered on the ground.
It really was silent.
No one shuffled, snored, or shifted. For the first time in his life, Preston saw every one of them lying peacefully. Is that why I can't sleep? He wondered. Perhaps they slept deeper tonight than they usually did. But why? Maybe dinner that night had been especially filling. If that were the case, Patty probably did not make it. Maybe the sheets were softened. He reached over to the cot next to him, Sir Commodore's, and felt the covers.
Hm. No softer than usual.
Maybe they're all just dreaming really nice dreams? He thought.
Just then, Sir Commodore quickly sat up. Preston hurriedly pulled his paw back, thinking he had woken him, but looking around, he saw everyone else sit up as well.
Someone suddenly screamed, a frightened scream, followed by a chorus of other shrieks and howls. Some did not need to scream, for their terrified looks said it all. But the chaos was abrupt.
Everyone paused, looking around in confusion, as though realizing where they were. Then, they looked around again, at each other. Judging by their confused faces, Preston figured they were probably all wondering why everyone else was up. Slowly, in uncanny time with one another, they sank back into their sheets, giving each other accusing looks.
The awkward manner in which it was done reminded Preston of the times he'd slipped on the filth of the lunchroom floor and pretended to look for something he dropped.
In just minutes, they all went back to their snoring and scuffling as though nothing had happened.