The Wild Ones by C. Alexander London

Rik objected as all the customers glared angrily at him. Possum Ansel was the most popular chef in the alley, and folks got impatient waiting for their turn to try his famous treats. “Hey, P, wake up!” Uncle Rik snapped his claws.
    The possum shuddered and shook himself awake. All heads turned from Uncle Rik back to Ansel. His red eyes narrowed.
    â€œYou’ve got a lot of nerve coming here, Riky Two Rings,” Possum Ansel hissed, flexing his claws.
    A big badger popped his long nose out from the kitchen in the back. He wore an apron over a striped shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his massive elbows. The big white stripe down the center of his face was speckled with chocolate frosting. “You want me to throw him to the street, Ansel?”
    â€œNow, listen here, Ansel, there’s no need for Otis to do that,” Uncle Rik spluttered. “I’ve got my nephew in from the Big Sky and his friend here, and we’re just trying to get some dinner. I know you and I have had our disagreements in the past, but there’s no need to resort to violence in front of the young’uns. Whatever I owe you, I swear I can pay soon. I’m just a little short on seeds right now, but if you’ll wait—”
    The badger stepped all the way from the kitchen, his body filling the door, menacing in the way only a badger in an apron can menace.
    â€œHi, Otis, old pal. You’re looking well these days . . . ,” Uncle Rik simpered.
    Otis cracked his knuckles.
    â€œListen, Ansel, I swear I’ll pay for my dinner tonight,” Uncle Rik pleaded.
    â€œYour money’s no good here,” Possum Ansel told Uncle Rik. In a corner booth, a skinny pigeon cooed. The tension crackled like a squirrel gnawing through a power line.
    â€œI . . . I’m just trying to . . .” Uncle Rik was at a loss for words.
    â€œBecause whatever you want is on the house!” the possum exclaimed, throwing his paws up and bursting out in an uproarious laugh. The big badger laughed too, and all the customers cheered and clapped and barked and squawked. “You gave those Blacktail goons what for, and for that, I thank you! They shake me down once a week and never pay for their food. Any enemy of theirs is a friend of mine. Sit, please. This is your nephew? Handsome lad! And his rodent friend? Sit! Make yourselves comfortable!”
    Kit looked around for a place to sit, but all the booths were taken. Possum Ansel immediately jumped from behind the counter and shooed the skinny pigeon from his booth.
    â€œHey, I was sitting there!” the pigeon objected.
    â€œYou’ve been there an hour and had one cheese ale and half a cracker!” the possum scolded him. “These folks are heroes, and they’re hungry for real food!”
    â€œSorry, Ned,” Uncle Rik apologized to the pigeon, even as he slid into the pigeon’s seat.
    â€œSorry don’t smooth my feathers,” the pigeon grumbled and strutted out of the store in a huff. Kit felt bad about taking the bird’s table from him.
    â€œDon’t worry about Blue Neck Ned,” Uncle Rik told him. “He’ll find some other place to perch. Always does.”
    â€œI’ll get cooking on those casseroles,” said Possum Ansel. “And you folks enjoy yourselves. Fresh acorn bread for the table?”
    â€œPlease,” said Kit. He loved acorn bread when his mom made it, and he was happy to taste one small reminder of home.
    â€œOtis, darling, bring these fellows some fresh acorn bread,” Ansel called, and Otis lumbered back into the kitchen.
    Once they were alone at the table, Uncle Rik leaned in close to Kit and Eeni. “I need to go talk to that badger for a minute,” he whispered. “You two eat up. Enjoy yourselves, and I’ll be back soon, okay?”
    â€œOkay,” said Kit, eagerly watching the kitchen door for the arrival of his snack and glad