Jaci Dawn

The first whizzing bullet overhead caused Ella to startle and lose her grip on the bear. Aric reached for her as she slid, mouth open in panic, but unable to scream. Kyle twisted suddenly, causing Deke to lose his grip. Deke tumbled into Aric, who was hanging on with one hand, and they both went flying and tumbling onto the ground. Kyle was already gone from view, although they could hear him crashing up the hill through brush, encouraged on by Gran and Dish.
Aric cupped his paws and shouted, “Ella!”
“Over here!”
They found her hiding under the brown remains of a bracken fern. She motioned for them to be quiet before they all embraced in a group hug. “Men coming,” she whispered. The mice scooted as far under the bracken as they could. They shivered.
Boots scrambled up the hill.
“It’s gone, Hank.”
“Shit. It was a big bear, too. Could’a filled my freezer with sausage.”
“You got a bear tag? Because all I have is a buck tag.”
“No, I ain’t got a bear tag. Not worth tracking him. But there was something funny about him. Looked like there was something on its back.”
“You’re seeing things. And now you’ve alerted every damn buck within a mile that we’re hunting here. Let’s go back to the rig and drive on around the point. Maybe it’ll cross the road up there – that’s the direction its heading. We can cover it up with a tarp.”
“Okay. Sure hate to miss out on a fella that big. I know who makes good summer sausage.” A boot stopped just inches from where the mice held onto each other.
“C’mon. I ain’t climbing no hill.” The other pair of boots was already headed back down the slope.
The boot before them turned toward them, and the other boot just missed Ella’s toes. The hunter followed his friend back down the hill, snapping twigs and muttering loudly about how much he hated how his knees hurt. The mice sank to the ground, and exhaled at the same time.
“Whew.”
“We lost Kyle and the others, though.” Aric sniffled.
“Maybe they’ll come back looking for us.”
Ella looked at Twerp. “No, they won’t. They just got shot at. They won’t know the hunters aren’t following them, or even where we fell off. We’re on our own.”
A miserable silence engulfed the trio.
A misty rain began to fall, adding to their despondent mood. Ella put the hood up on her hoodie, but neither Aric nor Twerp wore a hoodie. “We can’t just sit here, she said. We need to follow the map in our heads, and hope we can make it to wherever we’re going. Maybe Horace will fly by and find us, and we could ride with him.” She forced a smile.
“Not likely.” Aric grabbed a pebble and threw it. “Screw it. Let’s march.”
“I’m sorry I fell off and made you fall, Aric.” Twerp sniffed.
“No, that was a good thing. Ella fell first, and I was trying to reach for her. Better its all three of us together, than just Dork out here on her own.” Aric lightly punched his best friend’s shoulder.
They stayed to the low growing plants as they started hiking again. “At least the rain should keep the crows at bay.”
“What about raccoons?’
“I think there are a lot more things to watch out for than just crows and ‘coons.” Aric studied their surroundings as best as he could. They stood four inches tall, at most, he thought, and couldn’t see much further, except for general impressions. “I wish we could find some ten penny nails or some human discards we could make into weapons. My barbecue skewer was awesome.”
Ella led by her nose and whiskers. “We’d probably have to stumble right over the top of an old campsite or pioneer dump. I don’t think the odds are in our favor.”
“’If wishes were horses, then beggars would ride.’” Twerp quoted a nursery rhyme his grandmother used to say to him.
“’If turnips were watches, I’d carry one by my side.’” Ella laughed. “Did you guys know the original jack o’lanterns were actually carved turnips, not pumpkins?”
“I hate turnips.”
“Turnips sound wonderful to my mouse taste buds.” Deke tripped. “OUCH!” The other two turned around and came back to help him up.
Deke brushed himself off. “Sorry.”
Aric was looking at what Deke had tripped over: a short strand of barbed wire. He held it up. “This could be very handy.”
Ella and Deke crowded close. “Think there’s more? Why such a short piece?”
“There could be a fence here, and we wouldn’t know it because of our eyesight,” Aric replied. He was scavenging around, working his nose. “Maybe some fence staples or something.”
“What are fence staples?” Deke nosed the ground. He came up with a two-pronged piece of galvanized steel that just fit into his paw like brass knuckles might. “Will this work?”
“That,” Aric said, “is a fence staple. A new one, at that. Find another one and you’ll have a two fisted weapon.”
Ella held up a short piece of wood with a square nail jutting out one end. “I think this will be handy. Old nail. Did our prayers just get answered?”
“Or our wishes. This Kitsune might be nearby?”
They peered around, trying to see into the mist. Nothing moved.
Aric , Ella, and Deke marched in the open now, their weapons held at the ready. They sometimes jogged, hoping to make better time. The mist let up, and the sun came out, causing the earth to steam where the sun touched it. The steam was worse than the rain, as it created a low fog. Their tummies were growling, their clothes were wet, and despite the weaponry, their spirits began to sag. They had no idea how much ground they had covered, but they knew it couldn’t be as much ground as Kyle could cover. They hoped Kyle had turned and started to follow the mind-map. They hoped he had not continued uphill, and across the road where the hunters were waiting. They hoped they would find shelter and food.
Ella was climbing over a little hill in the ground when everything gave way. She disappeared into a hole with a sudden squeak.
Aric and Deke ran forward and peered down. She was sprawled in a large tunnel, her nail-on-a-stick next to her. “Ow,” She moaned.
“Boomer hole,” croaked a nearby voice. “Nasty creatures.”
“It’s a boomer hole. We gotta get you out of there!” Aric yelled down to his sister.
“That’s not so hard,” she answered. “I can climb out. It’s just it’s dry, and smells unused. I thought we could sleep in here.”
“Oh, no, no.” A large toad crawled forward from under some large, brown leaves. “You must not do down there. Boomers are evil.”
“Um, Ella, there’s this frog up here that says whatever lives down there is pure evil.”
“Toad,” the toad corrected. “They eat mice.”
“Frog? A talking frog?” Ella looked around. The place certainly seemed deserted. She tried to remember what she knew about frogs. “Okay, I’ll climb out.” She used her nail on a stick to help herself up.
“What eat mice?” Deke stared at the dark, lumpy form.
“Boomers, of course,” The toad replied. “I can show you a place to stay the night, if you need one.”
Aric helped Ella out of the hole. “The fro- er, toad, says he can show us to shelter.”
She dusted herself off and turned around, looking for the toad. It was large, lumpy, and blended in with the world around it. It’s eyes were yellow. It seemed to smile, and it croaked, “My name is Veneno.”
Ella felt a shiver run down her spine. “No, I think we’ll just continue on our way. Nice to meet you, Veneno.”
“Vennie, for short.” The toad hopped around in front of the trio. “I’d really like to be your friend.”
“No, I think we really should just go.”
“What’s wrong, El?” Aric shifted his weight and looked from toad to his sister. “I could use a place to sleep, and Vennie is offering us one.”
Ella shook her head. “No. We need to get going up the hill, or we’ll miss the rest of our gang. Nice that you offered, Vennie.” She waved at the other two to follow her up.
“Wait, I thought we were going d- “ Deke caught himself. “Yeah, you’re right, Bellwether. Up we go.”
Aric stared at his sister and friend. “Okay guys. Sorry, Vennie.”
“No, I am sorry.” The toad jumped and landed in front of Ella. “I cannot let you go.”
“How are you going to stop us?”
“Um, El… There’s, like, a line of red-bellied salamanders surrounding us.” Aric slowly turned around, surveying the danger.
“Great. You’re not very nice, Vennie.”
The toad blinked.
The three mice backed into each other as the salamanders advanced. The teens moved in a circle. Aric grasped his barbed wire strand. “Guess we’ll have to fight.”
“Fight?” The toad almost laughed. “Mice can’t fight, except with their teeth.”
“You have bad eyesight, toadie,” Aric swung the barbed wire strand, catching a newt with a barb. It screamed.
Ella waved her stick threateningly. Deke jabbed with his staples, trying to look brave.
“Dork! Give me your stick!” Aric handed his barbed wire to her. “You can handle that better.”
Deke swung wide at an advancing newt and poked its face with a staple. It hissed in pain and backed rapidly up.
“What are you doing?” the toad croaked. It leaped upward as Aric swung down with the nail. Aric followed it, this time swinging the nail sideways. He caught the toad in the eyeball. It screamed, and thrashed. The newts all disappeared backward, hissing angrily.
Aric brought the nail out and brought it down hard on the toad’s head. The toad splayed out and kicked a few times before dying. The mice, horrified at the turn of events, backed into the base of a tall Douglas fir tree. Deke recovered first.
“I think we better scram. That was a familiar, and his wizard is bound to be on the way.”
“Uphill,” Ella said. Together, the three mice pushed upward, still carrying their weapons. They were no longer tired.

21,375 words

Aric woke up refreshed. He stood and stretched. He could hear frogs and crickets, but not the sort of chorus one hears in the springtime. Something splashed in the stream outside: several splashes, like something walking through the water. He hurried to the hole in the tree and lifted one of his rocks. The heavy scent of elk musk floated into his nose and filled his mind. He sighed and relaxed. He listened as the elk passed and thought how amazing it was that his ears could pick up that there many were by the grunts, farts, splashes, and hoof beats. Cows and calves, spikes and bulls. He knew this, not from the smells, the sounds, or even his terrible night vision: he knew this from the Novembers he had spent hunting with his father.
He felt sad. His dad was in some place, held prisoner, accused of being a ‘practitioner of magic’. No doubt, he was separated from his wife, Aric and Ella’s mother, who was also accused of the same thing. They were white collar professionals. High school sweethearts. Active in the PTA, the city council, and the library. They voted, and not always for the same candidate or issues. They argued. They loved their kids unconditionally – even when Deka and Aric had accidentally set Deke’s mother’s shed on fire, they had loved him.
He felt a paw on his shoulder. Ella slipped her arm under his. “What’s out there?”
“Just elk. You think about mom and dad, El?”
“All the time.”
“Do we have a plan?”
She took a deep breath. “Well, Gran and Dish thought we could go to Dish’s family cabin, and we could regroup and form a plan from there. But we’re days from there in our present size, and we’re not even headed that way.”
“We aren’t?”
“No. The deer mouse who was my friend, he showed me where this stream goes. There’s a big white warehouse-sort of building. He couldn’t see it in the way we see things like that; he just knew about the concrete foundation and the parking lot and stuff that a mouse would see. It’s huge in his mind. And he was definite about the white.”
They stared out into the darkness.
Someone moved next to Ella. Dish leaned against the other side of the entrance. “I might know where we’re headed, then, and why. It sounds like the old ShopMart warehouse building. The foundation is white concrete, and the rest of the building is cinderblock painted white. My dad was day-shift manager there until they closed a year ago. It would be a good place to hold prisoners.”
Ella and Aric looked over at him. “You think Kitsune is sending us to the warehouse?”
“Well, he is the one that said to follow the stream, and if the stream ends where your mouse friend believes it does… Yeah.”
“What can we possibly do to help them in the form we’re in?”
“We still have some magic wands. And some time to plan. Surely, we aren’t the only ones who were smart and ducked out before we were arrested. Heck, how did Kitsune avoid capture?”
“I wondered that, too.” Gran was up. “How do we know we can trust him?”
Ella rolled her eyes. “He’s Mr. Nagasaki, for crying out loud. He may be freaky and all that, but he is still my favorite librarian, and a very kind man. We have to trust him, like we trusted the deer mice.”
“That was scary, just so you know, El.”
“I know, Gran. It was freaky. All those pheromones and images, and their language. I didn’t know mice had so many sounds, or that they sang love songs to each other, but there we were, and here we are. And they’re still singing ‘peace, love, and harmony’.”
“You’re going all freak on us, El.”
“Thank you, Billie. Yes, I am. I acknowledge that there is magic involved in this <pauses for applause>.” She waited.
Someone clapped. Another one clapped. Billie said, “Go on.”
“It’s maybe psychic ability or something. No one trained me how to be a wizard or witch or whatever I am. Twerp turned us into mice by magic. But it wasn’t by magic that Twerp realized our cell phones were tracking us or that Billie got us out of the basement. Gran got us out of the yard and as far as the woods here. Kitsune appears and tells us to knock off the magic tricks. We get waylaid by nature, and nature saves us. Now we’re here, and we have an idea where we’re headed, but no plan.”
“I have an idea.” Twerp waded into the discussion. “We wait until we get to where we are going to form a solid plan. We have to assess the situation. See who is guarding our parents. Look for allies. We act like the mice we are: one moment at a time.”
“No way.”
“We’ll get killed.”
“Suicide.”
“Wait,” Twerp added. “How many millennia have mice survived? And how far into the future do you think mice think?”
“Exactly!” Ella pumped her fist upward. “For once, Twerp gets my vote!”
The others grumbled for a moment. Aric raised his own voice, “Look, we’re mice. We can travel in the dark. I vote we keep following the stream until we find food or shelter again.”
“Hold onto the tail in front of you,” Gran said. “That way, noone gets lost.” Heads bobbed in agreement.
There were shadows out this night, making the world seem haunted and eerie. The woods were not quiet. The stream burbled, a coyote howled from a long distance away. Something chattered in the dark. Occasionally, they heard the thud of a larger animal’s hoof step. A wind came up, making the trees creak and groan eerily. Once, they heard something soft go “thump-thump-thump!” nearby, right before a large rabbit nearly landed on top of Billie and Dash.
They all screamed, and the rabbit startled. It reared up as if to crush them, turned on one hind leg, and hopped noisily off. Ella thought she heard it mutter, “Harumph!”
The scent of rose hips drew them to a bush, and they paused to eat, taking turns being sentinels. Aric found a fresh twig he could wield as a club, and Gran commandeered a similar piece of wood to use as a walking stick (to probe dark spaces, he said).
Ella spent her turn on sentry duty, trying to listen to the sounds and to see if she could pick up and pheromones or thoughts from other woodland creatures. It didn’t work: if there were creatures out there, they kept their thoughts to themselves. She heard an owl hoot somewhere, and wondered if it was Horace, but she was afraid to reach out to him. She hoped it was him, and that he was safe, and – mostly- that it wasn’t some stray non-familiar owl on the hunt for mice.
They headed back downstream after eating. Gran took the lead without being asked, with Dish behind him, Ella and Billie, followed by Twerp. Aric preferred bringing up the rear, now that he had a weapon again. The stream circled the tip of a rock slide, and the mice were forced out into the open to climb over the rocks. There was no whispering, only the sound of their shoes on the stones, an occasional grunt as they hefted themselves over a rather large stone, and their rapid breathing. Dish tripped on a trailing blackberry vine and bumped his nose.
Gran turned and helped him up. He caught Ella’s eyes as he did so: she was looking at something behind him, and emitting a cold scent of fear. Gran looked into Dish’s eyes and saw them go from tired to fearful. Slowly, Gran turned around.
Three sets of eyes glowed back at them, green in the moonlight. The shapes came a little closer, smelling of garbage and grinning widely. Sharp fangs glowed white in the night. A black hand splayed on the white rock – so very human like! – and Gran could just make out the unmistakable black mask of the raccoon leader.
“Ra-raccoons don’t eat mice. Do they?” He squeaked.
“P-p-pretty sh-sh-sure they d-d-do.” Ella squeaked back.
One of the raccoons, a smaller one, ran up the rocks to a position above the six mice. Another waded out into the stream below them, chattering as it did.
“Wh-wh-wh now?”
“Use your stick to hit ‘em in the nose!” Aric shouted. He was waving his stick over his head like a bat.
“Stick to-to-gether,” Ella ordered. “Circle.”
“So we look bi-bigger than we are!” Gran grabbed his stick and backed into Dish, who backed into Ella and Billie. They grabbed hands with each other until Aric was the only one not in the circle. He had his back to the circle, waving the stick in a threatening manner at the small raccoon that had now circled around and was inching forward from the back, still grinning. The large raccoon sat on its haunches and made a trilling noise that hurt the ears of the mice.
The smaller raccoon charged, and the mouse huddle moved closer to the larger raccoon – except Aric. He lashed out with his club, only to have it snap in half when it encountered the raccoon’s nose. The raccoon raised a black hand a slapped Aric, knocking him end over end into the water, where the other raccoon was waiting.
“Help!!!” Aric screamed.
Ella just screamed.
Something roared. There were splashes and the raccoons squealed in terror. The raccoon in the front of Gran did a one-eighty and dashed into the darkness. The raccoon on the rocks scrambled upward and over the rocks in the same direction, never glancing over its shoulder. The raccoon in the water dashed up out of the creek, straight past Gran, showering them all with water, screaming raccoon curses as it fled in the direction of its elder.
The splashing continued for a long moment afterwards as something very large and very black moved closer to the frightened mice. So big and black, that it blotted out the sky when it rose up out of the water,
Ella was sobbing. “Aric…Aric…”
A long black nose with very large, sharp, canines and horrible breath gently dropped something on a flat rock between the mice and itself. Something tiny and still, in a green sweatshirt, skater shoes, and torn jeans.
“Is this Eric?” The nose at the end of the snout and above the cavern of rancid breath gently nudged the still form.
Ella didn’t think. She acted. She ran forward and grabbed her brother’s body, turning his head to face her. He had a small gash on the side of his head, above his left eye. Ella gasped inward with a sob.
Aric suddenly vomited water all over her. “Buhack!!Hack! Hack.” Cough, sputter.
“You’re alive!” Ella squealed and hugged him.
“Leggo, Dork. Lemme breathe.”

16790 words

I accidentally published this as a PAGE on my blog site, and I meant for it to be a post, pre-November. Oh well, I am publishing it NOW, six days into my novel-writing experiment:

“It is the 29th of October, two days before NaNoWriMo officially begins. I have my novel idea, and a brief outline. I will start writing – officially – on the first of November (Dia de los Muertas). I have chosen this year, to include my blog following on my daily writing. It is because of you that I have chosen my subject: She Didn’t Believe in Magic.

I will post all of my writing here, on my blog, and ask you – my reader – for constructive criticism (which I may, or may not, take). This is a leap of faith for me. I don’t like criticism. I’m shy. I tend to make decisions all on my own. But, by engaging you, my audience, I hope to create a short novel that is not only readable, but is instantly publishable. Maybe I will even pick up a book contract (we can hope/pray!).

I merely ask you to tune in and watch for my daily posts from November 1 through November 30. Comment, engage on social media, criticize. Correct my grammar. Do not hold back. Together, we can create a great YA novel.

I’m excited to do this. That’s a GIANT leap for this introvert. But it is true: I am excited to create with an audience. Please engage, and don’t worry about my feelings. I’ll get over it!”

I still want you to engage and correct my grammar, offer ideas, etc. For instance, I have already changed a paragraph and caught some typos in my posts. I want YOUR eyes on it, too. Tell me when I’m redundant, boring, missing the point (example: using the wrong vernacular for young adults of the 21st century).

I am making a lot of progress on my 50,000 words for November. This isn’t so much for ME, as it is for my fan base. ♥

~Jaci

Billie let go of Ella. “But we never checked to see whose car is parked out there. If it’s Mike, he might be looking for us. He would know we might come out here. He’s our friend – maybe he could just drive us to the cabin.”
Ella nodded. She really didn’t like this tele-transportation stuff. “I think Billie is right. We should at least see who is parked out there, and if it’s Mike…”
“No, the fewer people who know about us, the better,” Twerp interjected.
“Mike’s my friend, too, Billie, but his dad has always been pretty anti-wizard,” Gran raised a paw.
“Shh! Guys! There’s a bike coming! I can hear it!”
Everyone jumped back into the shelter of the fern. Their ears automatically swiveled in the direction of the sound: someone was pedaling and doing stunts, grunting, and coming closer. Billie and Gran poked their noses out to see who was coming. A whoosh of rubber on dirt, then a skid. A tire threw dirt and small rocks at the fern as the rider stopped suddenly. A large foot bound in leather came down in front of Ella, and she jumped back.”
“Come on, text back!” The voice sounded frustrated. “Where are you Billie?”
Gran pulled Billie back, shaking his head ‘no’. She struggled against his hold, but by the time she was free, the bike had taken off toward town. Billie burst out from under the fern and yelled as loudly as she could, “Mike! I’m right here!”
“Come on, Bill, you think he’s going to believe you’re a mouse?”
“Why’d you hold me back!?” Billie whirled on Gran.
“You saw how close he came to stepping on El. He wouldn’t have seen you and you could’ve been caught in his spokes or run over!”
“You’re jealous! Mike asked me out before you could!”
“In your dreams!” Gran threw up his paws. “I don’t care if you go out with my friend. But getting run over first would be a stupid idea.”
“I’m going to try to get his attention before he loads his bike in his car.” Billie whirled around and began to jog down the middle of the path.
“What if he makes one more circuit? You’ll get run over!” Gran chased after her, with Ella and Dish on his heels.
“I’ll help you, Billie!”
“C’mon, Gran, it’s worth it to see if he can help us!”
Billie disappeared around a corner. Gran and Dish were nearly side-by-side and Ella was considering running on all fours to go faster. Suddenly, Billie screamed. Well, squeaked a shrill squeak that sounded like life or death.
Three mouse voices called out, “Billieee!!” The boys rounded the corner and skidded to a halt so suddenly that Ella ran right into them, knocking them over. She scrambled for ground.
“Oomph!”
“Ow!”
“Slow down, El!”
“Billie!”
“Guys. Guys. We have a big problem…” Dish had regained his footing and was staring upward.
Ella saw Billie in front of her, staring almost straight up. She ran forward and hugged her friend. “Bill…”
“El. Up.”
Ella peered upward. A large black dog’s nose hovered just above her. A nose on the end of a narrow, white muzzle. A nose above a sly grinning muzzle. Greenish-yellow eyes with cat’s pupils. Very large, pointy, red-furred ears.
“Well. I see you are still running pell mell into danger, young wizards.”
“Pell what?”
“Who are you?”
The girls merely huddled, holding each other closely.
“’Pell mell’, Mr. Cartwright. It is a term of speech meaning ‘in a hasty, and unthinking manner’, much in the way you have all been behaving the past 24 hours. You are very, very careless. I suggest we all make our orderly way back to the rest of your companions and away from this very obvious wide trail where anyone can see you. Now.”
The fox emphasized the last word it a point of a black paw. “You trot, or I carry you.”
Ella pulled Billie back ward, then slowly turned around, keeping a wary eye on the fox. It didn’t lose its wicked smile. Gran and Dish followed the girls, Gran still arguing. “Where do you get off calling me ‘Mr. Cartwright’?”
“March, young man. I used your formal name; there is no ‘getting off’ about it. You are Gran Cartwright, are you not?”
They came over the hill to see Aric, Twerp, and Horace standing in the trail, staring back at them. Ella and Billie dropped their hands and ran toward the boys as fast as they could, “Fox!!!!!” They screeched.
Gran glanced over his shoulder: the fox was gone. He elbowed Dish, “It’s gone!” They exchanged a look and took off running toward the others. They skidded to a halt just in front of the rest, their noses pointing upward, above Horace’s head.
Horace’s eyes got larger. “It’s behind me, isn’t it?”

Slowly, everyone turned around. The fox was sitting on its haunches, grinning. “Right. Now that I have all of you together, can we move off of this trail before those miserable cretins come around on their little bikes? This way.” It motioned with its nose. “You lead. I will tell you when to stop.”
Meekly, everyone turned and began moving deeper into the gloom of fir forest. Horace hopped alongside, making no move to try to fly away. They made their way quietly through sword ferns and fading bracken, around chanterelles, and over little rises and up little dips. They came to a small rivulet surrounded by twisting old rhododendrons, shaded from the towering firs.
“Stop. Here, we can talk. Turn around, all of you.” The fox sat on its haunches and continued to grin.
“Well?” Gran tried to sound brave, but he sounded more like a teenage boy trying to bluster his way past the coach.
“A well is a deep hole in the ground that sometimes holds water, Gran. There, I used your ‘Christian’ name. No need to be so formal, now that we are away from the trail. “Allow me to introduce myself: I am Kitsune. I am Zenko, or a good fox. A shape-shifter. A true shape-shifter, not one who needs to use a magic wand to change shapes.” He looked pointedly at Twerp.
“I stopped you because you are attracting a lot of attention to yourselves with your reckless antics, and you needed to be stopped. Read: every time you summon magic, you ping back to the owner of the wands you are carrying. It won‘t be long before those you seek to avoid figure out where you are, and come hunting.”
They looked at each other. “But I used Ella’s dad’s wands and that would be a good thing, wouldn’t it?” Gran pulled the wands out of his pocket.
“Are you certain they belong to the party you borrowed them from, or do you suppose he had another reason for keeping those in the attic? Perhaps they belonged to someone who should not possess a wand, but did at one time?” The fox let the question hang in the air.
“So, if you’re Kitsune, like in Animé, aren’t you, like, someone we know in real life?” Twerp changed the subject. I mean, a shape-shifter and all…”
“I can take human form, Deacon, yes. That is all academic. I sense that I need to explain to you what a grave danger you are in, and the danger the wizarding community as a whole is in.”
“I think we know that,” Dish muttered.
“Yeah,” Aric said.
The fox shook its head. “You do, perhaps, understand something of the gravity of the situation, but not all of it. You see, young people,” the fox sounded like old Mr. Nagato, the retired librarian, “someone in a very high place of government is suddenly missing a powerful talisman. This person who is missing this prized possession has determined that someone within the magic community is in possession of said item, and she will do everything she can to not only retrieve the wand, but cripple the community.”
But why, Mr. Nagato?” Ella overcame her fear of the fox.
The fox tipped its head and grinned even more. “Very good, Ella. Yes, sometimes, I masquerade as Mr. Nagato. You have always been a very observant young woman. As for your question, I cannot answer that. You must understand that from here on, you should not practice any frivolous magic.”
“Can we change back to ourselves first?”
“You are safer in your present form, especially as your hunters will be looking for you. You should, however, distance yourself from your natural predator here, one Horace.”
“But – we were trying to get to my folks’ cabin, and then regroup and make a plan. How can we do that as mice?”
“Intelligent musing, Dustin, but foolish. You should never divulge your plan to anyone you do not fully trust. Now, I can assure you that I will not betray you, but I could very well be someone you shouldn’t trust. The woods have ears – many of them. I will answer you: follow this stream. It will take you where you need to go. Horace can fly where he wills, and I advise him to stay to the deep woods and night flying.”
“You’re not coming with us?”
Kitsune laughed. “A fox traveling with mice? What did I say about not traveling with your enemy?”
“Wait,” Aric lifted a paw. “You said not to trust just anyone. So we might meet more talking animals. How will we know if we can trust them or not?”
“Your sister, Aric. Ella has powers she has not yet tapped into. She will be your bellwether.”

11619 words

Everyone looked at Gran. Gran sank low in the grass and put his head in his paws. Billie sat beside him, her paw on his shoulder. Dish gently let Twerp down before he, too, sat down. Twerp curled up into the fetal position and started snoring softly. Ella and Aric sat together, trying to see over the grass.
“One good thing,” Aric whispered, “is if we can’t see them very well, they sure can’t see us.”
“Who are they?”
Somewhere, in the trees above, an owl hooted.
Gran groaned, head still in his hands. “Now we’ve got owls to worry about, and dead-weight back there is snoring,” he whispered, more to himself than anyone else.
“Shhh,” Dish hissed back. Swainson has about a zillion cats, too.”
Everyone looked nervously back toward the yard with the chain link fence. Ella shivered.
There was a sound near the van. Aric stood, parted the grass a bit and stared: the window closest to his home had been rolled down, and it looked like the barrel of a gun was pointing out. He followed the muzzle toward the apple tree, where a crow was settling down to roost. There was a popping sound, and the crow squawked once before it fell out of the tree, wings spread as if to fly. Aric ducked back down.
“They’re shooting birds!” He almost forgot to whisper.
“Familiars,” Dish replied, unhappily. “They’re hunting familiars.”
“It was just an old crow,” Aric hissed back. “Who uses a crow as a familiar?”
The popping sound happened again, and an owl dropped out of the sky, landing mere feet from the teenagers. Everyone fell silent.

The van finally rolled forward, and past where the young mice were hiding in the grass. The smell of its exhaust filled the October air. The windows were rolled up, and the mice could hear the faint sounds of a popular Country song playing on its radio. The tires crunched along the dirt alleyway until the brakes squeaked. It turned right onto the paved street and motored away.
Aric peeked out, again. He could see quite well in the darkness, a novelty he wasn’t expecting. The lights were off in his house now, and the pit bull had curled up on its back porch. Mrs. Swainson’s house had every light on, but Bob Freeman’s house sat dark. A few feet away, he could smell the owl: it smelled of feathers, old blood, and fresh blood. A breeze wafted the feathers, making it appear alive for just a moment, and Aric ducked down in fear.
Gran had finally taken his head out of his hands. He spoke aloud for the first time, “If they’re shooting familiars, maybe someone warned Mrs. Swainson, so she’d keep her cats inside. That’s a good thing, right?”
“Someone could’ve warned me,” replied a grumpy old man’s voice. There was a stirring in the grass, and something larger than a mouse moved toward the teenagers. “Whoooo is hiding there? And why wasn’t I warned?”
Ella squeaked when the round head of a barred owl peered down at them. It’s eyes were yellow, large, and she thought – angry.
“Well?” It repeated.
“We didn’t know,” Dish squeaked. “At least, not until they shot the crow.”
“What crow?”
“The one over in our yard,” Aric pointed.
The owl turned its head nearly backwards, then whipped it back. “I’d go look, but, as you can see, I have been shot. In the wing. I can’t fly. I don’t know any crow that hangs around here. Don’t like them, especially. They don’t like me.”
“Um, who are you?” Billie found her voice.
The owl’s eyes found her. “I expect introductions are in order. I am the honorable, wise, and fortunate Horace. Fortunate, because that thing that hit me in the wing didn’t kill me.”
“Bullet. They had a silencer,” Aric said. “I’m Aric.”
“How do we know we can trust him?” Hissed Gran’s voice. “He’s an owl. Owls eat mice.”
Horace stood up straighter. “Why would I eat mice wearing clothing? The shoes alone would do a number on my digestion.”
“Owls swallow mice whole,” Ella said. She didn’t know why she was telling the apparently offended bird this. “You know, bones and everything. I don’t think shoes or glasses would be any more of a problem than bones. But, on the other hand, you’re a talking owl. Do all owls talk?”
The owl blinked three times, “Well, yesss… but not in this language. Owls communicate mostly by simple sounds that locate, warn, entice mates, and such. I have never met talking mice before, either. Most of the mice I have – er, met – er, have squeaked, but not much else. You are the first talking mice I have ever encountered.”
They stared at each other.
“I’m Ella.”
“Dustin, but noone calls me that. I go by ‘Dish’.”
“Billie.”
“Gran.”
“What about the little one? Did he get shot, too?” The owl leaned in very close and sniffed above Twerp. Twerp stirred in his sleep and mumbled. Both Dish and Ella started to stand up to protect the little guy from the large predator when the bird backed off.
“That’s Twerp,” they said in unison.
“Deke, his real name is Deke, but we’ve called him ‘twerp’ for so long, that’s become his name,” Ella explained. “He probably wouldn’t want to wake up with your face so close.”
“Of course.” Horace took a long look around. “I don’t suppose you were going to stay here all night, were you? It looks quite uncomfortable. I feel exposed.”
“No, we were going to -” Aric started.
“Cross through that yard.” Gran stood up and pointed. “We’re going that direction.”
“May I come along?” Horace blinked. “My wing is quite painful, and I jolly don’t like the idea of staying here, by the cat yard.”

They roused Twerp and started off across the hard-packed alley, and into the unkept yard between them and freedom – or so they hoped, it would lead them to freedom. Twerp was groggy, but he was steadier than he had been, and he didn’t question the lumbering bird of prey that hopped along through the grass off to the right.
The world looked decidedly strange from their mouse-sized perspective. Ella found herself half-jogging to keep up with Dish. She was having trouble making out things, and by the occasional grunts and curses from everyone else, she wasn’t the only one. She could hear exceptionally well. The strangest thing was the way the whiskers on her face were reacting to what they passed by: in the crawl space, and the short jaunt across the yards, she hadn’t paid much attention to those whiskers, primarily because she could see. Now, the world was in several shades of grey and black, and her whiskers seemed to have come alive.
“They’re, like, electric,” She said out loud.
“What’s electric?”
“Whiskers. They feel everything.”
“Oof!” Gran stumbled into something and fell backward. “I feel like a blind dude.”
Billie helped him up. “Yeah, I thought this would be easier. Where are we now?”
The group came to a halt and looked around. Noses twitched.
“I smell food.” Twerp said.
“What kind of food?” Several voices whispered back.
Ella lifted her own nose and breathed in. Her nose did a dance of its own: sunflower seeds. The aroma was almost overwhelming now that Twerp had mentioned it. Her stomach growled loudly. “We must be in the front of Mr. Freeman’s house. He feeds the birds.”
Twerp bumped into her, “Just follow our noses. We’ll be in food heaven.” He happily pushed through, working his nose.
The rest of the group hesitated, before Gran sighed out, “Why not? We need to eat.”
Following her nose was much easier than trying to see where she was going, Ella decided. Horace didn’t say much, but hopped along beside them until they were under the hanging bird feeders. He muttered something about keeping watch while the teenagers stuffed themselves silly.
Twerp was rooting around in the dirt, picking things up and putting them in his mouth greedily. Aric made his way over and followed suit. Billie picked gingerly at a pile of broken sunflower hulls. “Birds have been…”
“I think we have to,” Gran replied. He found a whole seed. “I’m so hungry…”
They ate and ate, moving little piles of discards hulls and, more often than not, whole shells with seeds still inside them. Raw sunflowers, Ella thought, not the nice roasted and salted ones she liked to buy at the convenience store, but somehow these seeds tasted more wonderful than a big, juicy, hamburger sounded. And she was so very, very hungry.
“Guys,” Gran said after a while, “I think we should get moving. I don’t know how much night we have left, and I want to be as close to the BMX trails as possible by morning.”
“What then?”
“Maybe Twerp will have recovered enough to make us normal.”
“Make you normal?” Everyone had forgotten about Horace, and his question caused them all to jump. “What is normal?”
“Don’t worry about it, Horace.”
“I feel like you keep leaving me out of things,” the owl said sulkily.
Look, we just haven’t decided how much we can trust you, OK? You’re still an owl to us, and that’s scary enough.”
“I promised I wouldn’t eat you.”
“Guys!” Billie stood up and put her arms out between Gran and Horace. “We just need to go. We can sort out everything else when we’re in a safer place.”
They crossed the street in a hurry, their shadows made unrealistically long by a street lamp. Ella stifled a giggle at their shadow-selves, and hurried after Dish. Soon, they would be in the unfamiliar maze of scotch broom, brambles, and wild plants that filled the empty plot of land between their neighborhood, the looming forest that they couldn’t see, and the wide series of hills and ruts that made up the illegal BMX bike track on the edge of town. Already, Ella could smell the spicy aroma of the brambles, and the burnt-smell of the scotch broom. She wondered how they would mange to keep from getting lost in there.
Horace stopped at the edge of the overgrown maze. “Mousies. Friends. I can’t crawl in there.”
Twerp suddenly seemed to notice the big bird. “Holy shit! Where’d we pick you up at?”
Horace looked offended. Aric put his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “He got shot back in the alley behind out house. You were asleep. His name is Horace, and he’s a familiar, and he wants to stay with us for some reason.”
“Well, of course he does. He’s my dad’s owl.” Twerp stepped forward, “I’m Deacon, Horace. How bad were you shot?”
Horace leaned forward and looked closely into the face of Twerp, who didn’t flinch. “Deacon? You certainly have his glasses on. It’s my wing. It hurts a little, but not as much as it did when that thing hit me in the air and knocked me down.” The owl stretched his wing out and looked curiously at it.
“You can’t fly at all?”
“I haven’t tried. I met these mice, and they… er, I followed you all. It didn’t seem polite to fly off, if I could.”
“Well, try. If you can fly just a little bit, you can maybe keep us going the right way.” This was Gran, who had stepped closer. “Like, you could hoot to us, so we know which way to go. You know where the BMX trail is?”
“Where I ride my bike,” Deacon explained. “I’ve seen you roosting in there.”
Horace straightened. He turned away from the mice, made a coule little hops and stretched his wings. He gained air, and circled over their heads. “I can fly!” One more circle overhead and then he said, “I’ll stop halfway.”
“Hoot about every fifteen minutes.” But Horace was already gone.

8658 Words