The Rightful Heir (26 page)

B
ENJAMIN TOSSED AND TURNED
for hours. He'd worked all night on the Trojan Pig. He'd spent most of it cleaning the barrel—wiping off a coat of grease and the grass and dirt packed
inside—before he decided that the belly of a giant snake wouldn't care about dirt. Now it lay on his desk with paints, pencils, and other crafts scattered around it.

He dozed in and out of sleep.
Which pug was born first? Jonah or Mac? I hope it's Mac. He seems nicer…and he looks better. But Malcolm really likes Jonah. And his owner did die. I wonder if he feels sad?
Then he remembered Jessica Howell.
She's Mac's owner! What if he is the king? Will he go back home?
He started to doze.
We've gotta find out who was born first… I wonder where their mother is?
His eyelids were too heavy to keep open. He slept the rest of the night.

R
OSCOE WALKED THROUGH THE TALL GRASS
under a nearly full moon. But unlike before, he wasn't trying to get home. Or maybe he was. The stars lit the cloudless night sky. He had no idea in which direction to head.

“Ouch!” The goat walked into a thorn thicket, pricking his nose. He smelled the air and instantly recognized the scent lingering in the sticky bushes. “Blackberries,” he said under his breath. He remembered the silly situation Clementine had gotten himself into.…
Blackberry bushes! That's where we found them! They came to us by the bushes!

He stood quietly on
his spot and looked around, squinting to see any movement. The sparse, shadowy evergreen trees stopped him from seeing very far.
How did they know we were here? Oh, that's right! The pig screamed bloody murder
. Roscoe wavered. He didn't want to attract the attention of something or someone else. He gulped. “Uh…
hello?”
he said softly to the shadowy calm pasture. No response. The little goat mustered up a little more courage, “Hello? Um, it's me. Roscoe.” Nothing. “HELLO?!” he yelled into the night air.

“Helloooo!…hellooooo!…helloooooo!”

PLOP!
The fainting goat fell over onto the cold ground. “Wait a minute! That was an echo, stupid!” A stick snapped close by. He jumped to his feet. “Oh, dear,” he said nervously. “At least I hope it was just a deer…”

Not wanting to yell out any more to the hiding creatures, which hopefully were not really there, he did something he hadn't intended to do.
“Whoop.”
It was a weak attempt, but instinctive nonetheless.
“Whoop, whoop!”
He cleared his throat as he grew more confident. “Ahem…Whoop!
Whoop! Whoop!”
the goat declared to the darkness around him. He started to walk while bellowing his ancestral call.
“Whoop! Whoop! Whoop!
Ouch!” He stepped into a thorn bush and quickly backed out.
“Whoop!! Whoop!! Whoop!!”

The coyote's ears shot up. “Belshak! Did you hear that?”

Belshak turned to the brown-haired youngling behind him. “Hear what?”

The rest of the pack hadn't heard it either. The young coyote flinched. He noticed how much hungrier and madder their leader looked the longer they waited for their large feast. “I thought…I may've heard a wild goat downwind. It was far away, though.”

Belshak breathed heavily. “You want him? Go get him!
We're
going to wait for the best of meats!” His yellow eyes squinted. “But when you return, we'll kill and eat you, too.” Some of the coyotes looked shocked. He addressed them. “We will wait this out until
our
food arrives!”

The young coyote looked away in shame. He turned his head downwind again, knowing a wild goat was out there somewhere. He stayed with the pack as they continued on in the moonlight.

“WHOOP!
Aw, this is ridiculous.” Roscoe snorted in frustration. He was tired of walking in the tall grass and found a place to lie down for the night.

“
… whoop.”

He scrambled to his feet. “Who's there?”

The ground shook lightly, tickling the bottom of the little goat's hooves. Roscoe took a deep breath and called out again.
“Whoop! Whoop!”
Out of the shadowy evergreens trotted a herd of wild goats, hooves pounding the ground gently. His eyes were as big as saucers as they approached him. Not knowing what to do, he again called
“Whoo—
”

“You don't have to keep doing that… Whoop!” one of them said, coming up to him.

Roscoe knew it would be useless to count them, although they looked fewer than last time. “Huh-hello. I don't know if you remember me, but my name is—”

“Roscoe, son of Stinky.
Whoop!”

He recognized the goat as Zane, Zebulon's right hand. “Yes! You do remember!” He recalled them jumping into the thorn bushes after their leader. “Well, about last time, I want to apologize for not jousting Zebulon. You see, I…” He looked around. “Uh…where is Zebulon?”

One by one the wild goats knelt to him in the moonlit field. Even the older goats, long beards flowing in the breeze, grunted,
knelt painfully, and bowed. Roscoe gulped.

“Hail, Roscoe, son of Stinky!
Whoop!”
One of the goats declared, and in unison they repeated, “Hail, Roscoe, son of Stinky!
Whoop! Whoop! Whoop!”

Roscoe was speechless. He'd never felt so awkward.

“Whoop!”

“Ummm…so where's Zebulon?”

Zane kept his head lowered to the ground. “He was killed.”

Roscoe gasped. “Killed?
Whoop!”
His impulse to
whoop
surprised him. “How?”

“By coyotes, my great leader.
Whoop!”
a different goat replied.

“Whoa! Hey…wait a minute, guys. I don't know why you're calling me your leader, but—”

“Because you defeated the great Zebulon!
WHOOP!”

“Defeated?
Whoop!
I-I never defeated him, I just…sort of
dodged
him.”

Zane stood.
“Whoop!
But you did what no other creature has ever done before.”

“What's that?”

“You survived!” Zane said with awe. The herd joined his
“Whoop! Whoop!”

“When…when was Zebulon killed?”

“Last night. Another of us died, too.” Zane said softly.

A goat stepped forward. “We managed to escape, but they took two of us.”

“Oh, gosh I'm…I'm really sorry,” Roscoe said sympathetically. “My father died earlier today.”

“Stinky…” Zane said. “Our cousin Stinky.
Whoop!”
They all bowed their heads in his honor. It was a somber scene in the moonlit pasture.

Roscoe was touched, then remembered his purpose. “His last wish was for me to find you again. I think he believes I'm a wild
goat!
Whoop!”

Zane smiled kindly. “It's not a coincidence that you found us the day after our leader was killed.
Whoop!
By your horns we will follow you, Roscoe, son of Stinky.” All the wild goats knelt to him once more.

A shiver of excitement ran up Roscoe's back.
Oh, man. If Clementine and the others could see me now!

“Whoop! Whoop!”
they called in unison.

Zane raised his curly horns. “Now, Roscoe, son of Stinky, what is your first order for us tonight?
Whoop!”

The Matador didn't need even a second to decide. He couldn't hold back his grin.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

“
H
OW LONG ARE WE SUPPOSED TO STAY LIKE THIS?”
Clementine whispered to
Felix, but the fox was still as stone. “Malcolm? Hey, Malcolm?” The raccoon looked at him sternly, then nodded. Suddenly they heard something approach quickly from behind.

“Shhhhh!!”
the raccoon cried.

“Is it gone, Zeke?” Malcolm whispered to him.

“I think so. But to be safe we'd better keep quiet.”

“Felix, which way are your friends?” Clementine nudged his ear. “Hey!”

Felix jumped. “Oh. Sorry, I-I wasn't expecting that m-monster t-to be so huge.”

“You should've seen the skin it shed,” Jonah said in awe.

“Which way do we go?” Clementine again asked the fox.

“Oh, we…we head south. I'm not sure how far, but we need to keep moving south.”

“What's going on, Malcolm?” another raccoon asked.

“I'm accompanying these animals into the forest to help bring back a large group that want to join their kingdom.”

“A thousand others, give or take,” Clementine added.

“Whoa! That's a pretty big operation!”

“Yeah, and their king is with us, too.” Malcolm looked at Jonah.

“The boy's here? Where is he?” Zeke looked around.

Mac sighed. He didn't want to talk to the raccoons, but he
took a step forward.

“This is the king.” Malcolm pushed Jonah into view.

The raccoons stared at the little pug. Then Zeke snickered. “Nice to meet you, Your Majesty.”

“No, no, no! I believe you all are mistaken.” Mac rudely cut in front of his brother.

“Stop it! No more!” Clementine snorted angrily. “We need to find the others and get out of this place! There will be no more family fights, especially with that
snake
out here. Now let's get moving!” He looked at the four other raccoons. “If you fellas want to join in, I'm sure we can use the help.”

Zeke turned to the others and shrugged. “Well, I guess we'll be safer with these guys than by ourselves.”

“You will be,” Malcolm said. “Where's the boss at?”

“Probably sleeping on his branch,” Zeke replied.

“I hope that monster doesn't come near our place,” another raccoon said.

“I don't think it could get its mouth around fat Marlon. He'd sleep through it all, anyway.” The others quietly laughed.

Three dogs, five raccoons, one pig, and a fox set out through Persly's Woods as the moon made its way across the starry sky.