(Unedited excerpt.)
The chipmunk paused briefly at
the bridge, just as the mouse had done, but to Roan’s dismay, it chose the easier path—the one that led to the spiral stair
of the Home Tree. Roan twitched his tail irritably. Now he had two
creatures infected with the Madness traveling in separate directions.
The Watcher swore under his
breath and traveled the length of the branch to the trunk. He gripped
the rough bark and worked his way down the Home Tree to the uppermost
level of the spiral stair. Letting go, he landed heavily, tweaking
his back a little.
Roan took a moment to pop his
vertebrae and slip the spear from its strap. Weapon pointed in front
of him, he descended the steps on stealthy paws, alert and ready for
confrontation. As the stairs wrapped round and round the trunk, Roan
found himself plunged into darkness on the backside of the tree where
the moonlight could not penetrate, only to find himself washed in the
silvery blue glow as the stairs curved toward The Commons again.
Every so often, he paused to
listen for the pawsteps of the infected chipmunk. It wasn’t until
he had nearly reached the bottom that he heard the unmistakable
dragging of unsteady pawsteps. Roan paused on a moonwashed step.
Ahead of him, cloaked in the inky darkness of a shadowed section of
stairs, the sick chipmunk teetered and dragged its hindpaws up the
steps. At last, it emerged from the shadows and into the moonlight,
and Roan could see the wet, matted fur on the slightly built
chipmunk’s chest. Its mouth hung open, and its eyes periodically
rolled to the back of its head. When it spotted Roan, however, it
lurched forward, jaws snapping.
He pressed the fire-hardened
point of the spear to the chipmunk’s chest and held his ground. The
chipmunk pressed forward as much as its body would allow and reached
for Roan with its forepaws, eyes wild and jaws biting at the air.
“Who are you?” Roan asked in
his deep, rumbling voice. “State your name.”
The chipmunk’s ears twitched as
if trying to hone in on the sound of Roan’s voice, but it showed no
other signs of understanding.
“Do you understand me?”
A wet, snarling sound escaped the
chipmunk’s mouth. Roan sighed. The poor fellow was too far gone.
He pulled the spear abruptly away
from the creature’s chest, which caused it to stumble forward onto
all fours. Roan waited for the chipmunk to right itself again. When
it stood up, he rammed the point of the spear upward, driving it
through the chipmunk’s lower jaw and deep into its skull until it
ripped through the crown of its head, killing it instantly.
The chipmunk collapsed to its
knees, the butt of the spear wedging itself between two steps so the
poor devil remained somewhat upright, impaled and dangling in the air
like a macabre scarecrow. Dark rivulets of blood streamed down the
skull, oozing from the mouth and onto the steps. Roan grabbed the
spear and dragged the body to the railing. He hoisted the smaller
chipmunk’s body onto the barrier, deftly slid the spear from its
skull, and toppled the body into the underbrush below. He would have
the grim task of disposing of the corpse later. For now, he had an
infected mouse to hunt.
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