The King's Guard
The little red squirrel led Patch up and down steep ridges and muddy hills, past the mind-warping Labyrinth, along the expanse of the Northern Sea, then across a human highway and down into the Ravine. This circuitous course took almost the entire rest of the day, but the direct route passed through grassy fields that were Meadow territory.
The Ravine was the central part of the Northern River, which began as a long pond surrounded by willow trees on the western edge of the Center Kingdom, and flowed to the Northern Sea in the kingdom’s northeast corner. Beyond the river, in the triangle demarcated by its waters and the kingdom’s northern and western edges, lay the territories of the North; steep and densely wooded hills almost as wild as the Ramble.
By the time they arrived, the sun was well on its way to setting. The trees of the Ravine were busy with squirrels, their fur mostly Southern gray not Northern red. Patch and his guide approached a mighty oak tree, its trunk encircled by a dozen watchful squirrels. Other guards, high above, watched the sky-roads.
‘The court guard,’ the red squirrel explained. ‘They watch the king’s tree day and night so the Meadow won’t ambush us again. Stay here.’
‘Here? Why?’
The red squirrel slowed her pace and eyed Patch suspiciously. ‘The password is secret. We don’t know you’re not a spy. Stay here.’
Patch halted just beneath the king’s tree’s branches and watched the little red squirrel trot up to the court guard. Some of them were red, some gray. All were very large and strong. And one of them looked very familiar –
‘Twitch!’ Patch shouted, and sprinted past the little red squirrel, ignoring her outraged cries. ‘Twitch, you’re alive!’
Twitch stared as if Patch had grown a second head. ‘Who are you?’ he asked wonderingly. ‘You look just like Patch. You sound just like him too.’
‘I am Patch! Twitch, it’s me!’
Twitch shook his head sternly. ‘Oh, no. You can’t be Patch. Patch is dead. A hawk took him away. I saw it.’
‘A hawk took me away,’ Patch agreed, ‘but I’m not dead. It’s me, Twitch. It’s really me.’
The other guards watched in rapt silence.
‘If you’re Patch,’ Twitch said, his voice hopeful but suspicious, ‘if you’re my best friend, then, then – then what’s my favorite food?’
Patch burst out laughing.
‘What?’ Twitch demanded. ‘What’s so funny?’
‘Twitch, that’s the worst question ever. Everyone who’s ever known you for more than a few heartbeats knows your favorite food is tulip bulbs.’
Twitch’s eyes widened, and then he charged forward, so excited that his attempt to sniff Patch closely instead turned into a head-butt that knocked Patch half-senseless to the ground. Patch had almost forgotten just how big and strong Twitch was.
‘Patch!’ Twitch bellowed, as Patch rolled groggily to his feet. ‘It’s you, it’s really you, you’re not dead, you’re alive!’
‘A few more head-butts like that and I might not be,’ Patch said, dazed but laughing. ‘I thought you were dead, Twitch. I heard almost all the Treetops died in the war, or swore to the Meadow.’
Twitch’s smile faltered, and dimmed into a grim expression Patch had never before seen on his friend’s face; and Patch realized he was not the only squirrel who had changed since their last meet-ing.
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