The Prince Who Fell From the Sky by John Claude Bemis Page A

they continued. Was it hopeless to expect that the child could live off the offerings of the Forest? Was his kind really so different from the tribes of voras? Could they only survive with canned foods and false hides and devices and relics?
    By nightfall, purple thunderheads had risen behind them and rumbles pealed through the trees. After the heat of the day, Casseomae didn’t mind the prospect of a wet night. The rain began with white flashes of lightning, sending the child closer to her. A sharp crack of thunder erupted, shaking the ground.
    “It’s safe, cub,” Casseomae snorted gently to the whimpering child, and then added to Dumpster, “I’d figure if he came from the sky, he’d have seen storms worse than this—”
    “The highway!” Dumpster leaped from her back and sprinted ahead over rising puddles until he stood on the path’s hard, cracked surface. “At last, we’ve found it again.”
    As Casseomae lumbered up onto the highway, she paused to sniff. She peered through the gray falling light and rain. “That’s not all that’s back.”
    The child gave a shout and began running toward a coppery-red form lying under the shelter of an overturned vehicle. When Casseomae caught up, she feared the dog might be dead. He was lying on his side with blood in his fur. But when the child knelt next to him, he opened his eyes. “You found me,” he gasped.
    “Not on purpose,” Dumpster said.
    “The Companion has been led back to me,” the dog said, clearly pleased as the child nuzzled his fur and chirped softly to him.
    “Murk’s whiskers,” Dumpster mumbled.
    “Are you badly hurt?” Casseomae asked. “How did you escape Rend’s rout?”
    “Rend,” the dog scoffed, licking the child’s hand before continuing. “Is that her name? A more vicious coyote I’ve never met. Fortunately she keeps poor company. Her mate and guards have no more sense than doves and hardly any more courage. I escaped with only a few bites but none so deep.”
    “Then why don’t you get up?” Dumpster said. “If a vora had come across you before us, you’d be in a poop pile of trouble, wouldn’t you?”
    “He’s plainly exhausted.” Casseomae flopped to the still-warm highway as the rain soaked into her fur.
    Standing out in the pouring rain, Dumpster turned his black eyes from the dog to Casseomae. “Then let’s go before he can follow us. If we set off now—”
    “You’ll be washed away in no time,” Casseomae grunted. “We’ll rest here for the night.”
    “With this cur?” Dumpster said in disbelief.
    “He helped us.”
    “That Faithful vermin didn’t help me. He helped the pup.”
    The dog lifted his head. “You call me a Faithful, rat, and yet you’re the one traveling with a Skinless One. You’re helping him as well.”
    “I’m not helping him,” Dumpster squeaked.
    “You found him that Skinless food,” Casseomae reminded him.
    “That’s not the same!” Dumpster clicked his teeth angrily. “Besides, even if I was helping this here pup, that doesn’t make me a Faithful. Feeding a lost pup isn’t the same as serving in the army of the Old Devils. It isn’t the same as helping those murderers wage war against the Forest tribes.”
    The cub stared with owl-wide eyes as Dumpsterskulked off toward another car not far away, then he crawled in next to the dog, out of the rain.
    Casseomae expelled a sharp snort of air. “Ignore him, dog. He has a foul temper since he lost his mischief. Probably had it before then too.”
    “His words don’t hurt me. I’ve kept my oath and soon I’ll be rewarded.”
    “Oath?” Casseomae grunted.
    The dog struggled up onto his forepaws. “Tell me, bear. Where did this pup come from?”
    “You won’t believe me.”
    “I scarcely believe the pup is real, even with his paws upon me.”
    “He fell from the sky,” Casseomae replied.
    The dog cocked his head. “You mock me. Like the rat, you think since I’m a Faithful—”
    “I’ve got nothing