Lupus Rex Read Free Page B

and hurray!” said Gomor with newfound enthusiasm. “Just what I always wanted to do—take a journey with my best friends! A high adventure is upon us!”
    “A dangerous adventure, certainly,” said Cormo.
    The rabbit’s face dropped. “Oh, yes, I do suppose so,” Gomor said, his sudden excitement abated.
    Then they heard the man’s machine come to life far away and to the west. It would not be long now until his thrashing began. Ysil prayed the animals had enough time to gather before the man’s arrival. So Gomor left to return to his burrow, and the three quail returned to their bramble.
    When they entered the nest it seemed the commotion had not settled in the least; rather, it had most certainly grown.
    “I will not go,” spoke Incanta defiantly but softly. “I am old and there is no need. The crows will not even know I am here. What’s one old quail to them? I am simply not up to making such a trip. And besides, when we are all walking and a couple of coyotes jump us, everyone will fly, everyone except me, that is, as I cannot. I will be their dinner then, and a meager one at that!”
    Cotur Ada had returned by then, with no word of where he had been. “You must succumb to the crows’ order, Incanta,” he said gently. “It is within their specific order that we all depart here together.”
    “Well, it is my specific order that I stay,” she answered, a spry light in her wrinkled eyes.
    There was much consideration and argument, but finally the covey allowed that she would remain behind. Ysil heard the sound of the man’s machine getting closer now. The man would work all day, gathering the grain. The old bird sat back down in her nest and closed her eyes. As Ysil passed her she mumbled under her breath: “Damned crows . . .”

 

     
    Chapter Two
    Travels and Hastened Returns
     
     
    T HE MORNING WAS hot as the band of animals set out for the Vulture Field, also known as “Olffey Field.” Just the thought of the terrible place cast a pall over Ysil.
    Ysil and Cormo moved past Sulari in a single-file line as the old hare counted each and every animal under his care.
    When the count was done, the group separated into smaller groups of their own kind. Sulari hopped up to Cotur Mono and gave his count: “There are twenty-nine quail, fifty-five mice, twenty-two rabbits, fourteen squirrels, five badgers, and one slow, grumbling golden rat,” he said. “And I the only hare.”
    “Ahem,” said Cotur Mono. “My count is also the same.”
    “Now, on!” said the hare, rising up to his tallest. “On with you all! We must away.” And with his word the group departed the wooded vale next to the field.
    “The vultures,” said Cormo, keeping in pace with his friend. “Why are we going to the vultures?”
    “The elders say there is safety there,” said Ysil.
    “Safety,” snorted Cormo. “As safe as death, I suppose.”
    The vultures were peaceful by nature. They just waited patiently for the food that would surely come. Ysil had heard tales of young rogue vultures who were liable to kill small animals, but the mother vulture, Ekbeth, in her field at least, demanded control. A slow-moving group of rabbits, mice, and quail could reach Olffey Field in a full day’s walk.
    Ysil strode along thoughtfully and watchfully between the trunks of the yellow birches and mossy-cup oaks. The group passed scattered piles of bottlebrush buckeyes, which they left alone. Buckeyes were far too tough-skinned for a quail to break open, and even if they could, the bitter meat therein would cause pain in the stomach. He stayed as close as he could to the middle of the covey, feeling safest there.
    The animals formed a rough symmetry. On the outside of the circle were the stronger quail, while within the circle were the younger quail and the elder. Sylvil was in the exact center, quiet and nervous. Ysil walked close to Cotur Ada, watching his grandfather’s every move. Ysil truly enjoyed being close to Cotur Ada,