From a clump of brown and orange leaves, a small body emerged with exactly the same colorings as its background. He had the floppy ears of a dog and the wagging tail of a dog, and for all manner of speaking he quite probably was a dog, though his strange brown and orange coloring threw Aaron a bit. The dog smiled, his two perfect rows of tiny, pointy teeth fitting together like puzzle pieces.
Aaron ran for safety in the tube. The creature continued smiling pleasantly and dipped his head, almost as if to bow. His ears brushed the ground.
“D-d-do you know who I am?” Aaron asked.
The dog tilted his head.
Aaron took a step toward it. “I’m the high priest of Quill.”
The creature’s back end wagged, his tail slapping lightly against a sapling.
Aaron looked around. He didn’t see the large black creature anywhere, so he took another step toward the friendly little thing.
The dog stepped closer to Aaron, too. Just as Aaron leaned forward to pet him, the dog leaped at him with a shriek, mouth open wide. He dug his tiny, sharp teeth into Aaron’s arm.
“Ow!” Aaron yelled. He shook his arm, trying to get the dog to let go, but the dog hung on. He was much heavier than Aaron would have guessed, but Aaron didn’t have the wherewithal to speculate about that. His arm hurt terribly. “Let go of me!”
The dog didn’t obey.
Aaron tried to kick the dog off but succeeded only in hurting his toes. The thing had to be made of cement. “Release me!” he cried.
And just like that, the creature’s jaw unhinged and the dog dropped to the ground.
Aaron grabbed his throbbing, bleeding arm and held it to his body. “What in the name of Quill is wrong with you?” He stepped back as the dog retreated, still grinning. Then the dog jumped straight into the air and bit into a tree branch. He hung there, swinging and grinning, as his body slowly changed to the solid brown color of the bark on the tree behind it.
“Evil thing,” Aaron muttered. Keeping one eye on the dog in the tree, he inspected his arm. Dozens of miniature puncture wounds dotted his skin, and droplets of blood oozed from them. Aaron lifted his shirttail and carefully wrapped it around his arm, holding it tight, and wished for some water. This visit was not turning out like he’d expected.
When a shadow fell over him, Aaron turned and looked up. His mouth dropped open.
It was the rock, its cavelike mouth agape.
And on top of the rock stood the black creature, crouched low and ready to pounce.
Mountains Bow Down
Aaron gasped. “No!” he cried out. “Don’t hurt me!” He scrambled toward the tube, losing his footing more than once on the uneven ground. When he reached it, he turned swiftly with a feeling of dread, fully expecting the paws and mouth of the creature to be upon him. He stretched his hand toward the button but stopped short of pushing it when he saw that the black creature hadn’t moved. She stayed on top of the rock, watching Aaron.
The rock remained still, also watching Aaron. And then its cavelike mouth moved, and groaning noises emerged.
Aaron’s heart thudded. He knew he should push the button. He knew he should get to safety. But he was mesmerized. Where had they been? How did the rock move? And was it . . . speaking to him?
In a rumbling voice like distant thunder, the rock spoke. “Where’s Marcus?”
Aaron nearly leaped out of his own skin. “Wh-what?”
The rock repeated the words, louder this time. “Where’s Marcus?”
Aaron stared. “He-he’s dead.”
The rock grumbled in disbelief, and the dog dropped from the tree branch and started running around howling. The panther lowered her head.
Aaron scrambled to read their reactions. “He—he was a good man. Wasn’t he? I mean, don’t you agree?”
“Well, of course!” boomed the rock. The dog and the panther seemed to feel the same way.
Aaron sighed inwardly in relief. He knew now where they stood. All he had to do was play this game right. “We all just . . . miss him terribly,” he began. “He, ah, he put me in charge. So I’m just checking in on you like he asked me to. I’m—I’m sorry it’s been a while. There was, um, a lot to take care of. It was all very sudden, you see.”
The rock regarded him, and rumbled, “So you’re the boy called Alex.”
It wasn’t a question.
And in Aaron’s mind, there was barely a moment’s hesitation. If being Alex gave him an advantage, then he would be Alex once more—only here, there was no one to detect the tiny physical difference between the boys. “Yes,” he said. “That’s me.”
The enormous rock bowed its craggy peak. “I’m sorry to hear of Marcus’s death,” he said. “But he told us about you.”
“He, um, he didn’t tell me much about you, I’m sorry to say,” Aaron said. “So . . . perhaps . . . you could?”
The rock seemed to frown. “I am the caretaker of the dangerous ones,” he said in his rumbling voice. “Mr. Today’s imperfect creations, which are, shall we say, not to be trusted.”
The panther snarled.
The rock continued. “Marcus couldn’t bear to end it for any of them, so he put them here. Ol’ Tater was here for a time, but that was . . . troublesome.”
Aaron didn’t know who Ol’ Tater was, but he sounded delicious.
The rock looked at itself. “They can’t hurt me, you see.”
Aaron tried to look sympathetic, though he wasn’t very good at it. “Do—did they hurt Mr. Today?”