Chapter Nine: Back to the Fox Den
Breakfast at the feeder the next morning was a mob scene. Animals crowded Corey Chapman’s deck, jostling for space on the railing, deck, and yard surrounding. Ralph had escaped his leash next door and joined the group by the rail; Maybee watched from the other side of the sliding glass, while Corey’s girlfriend Jenny shouted from the upstairs bedroom for the animals to shut up so she could sleep; they all roundly ignored her. John Deer was there wearing his baseball cap, accompanied by his family, whose droppings made drumming sounds as they landed on the boards of the deck.
Missing from the crowd was Corey, who Silas had watched leave the house before sun up, looking like he had not slept at all the night before. Silas too hadn’t slept, too revved up from his adventure with Mitch, his mind racing thoughts about how things might end today. Thinking all night had accomplished nothing except tally along his building exhaustion from days without sleep.
All the birds were there on the deck, Mack Starling leading the questions prompting Mitch’s story, whose breast was visibly puffed out, basking in the limelight as he recounted their stunt with the truck. The animals were rapt as Mitch told about coming upon the large pickup, the two “large and scary” human hunters, how Mitch rigged the truck to explode with ammunition.
“I didn’t know what Silas was off doing,” Mitch said, gesturing at his friend. “But knowing him, I was sure he was hatching something crazy.”
The animals laughed appreciatively, looking over to Silas, who was at the feeder, eating very little. He enjoyed seeing Mitch having a time of it telling the story, but for Silas, the heady rush of last night had dimmed into lethargy. He wanted to sleep, but a nervous energy innervated him.
Silas was meeting Poppa Bear mid-morning. They were going to storm the Fox Den today, put an end to Fox like Silas and Mitch had done to the human mercenaries the night before. They would find the cubs, take out Fox before he could hurt anyone else. Silas was fixed on Fox, his mouth actually watering as he contemplated the taste of his savage brand of justice.
Colin Nutter nudged Silas appreciatively, bringing him back from his reverie. Mitch had gotten to the part where they had used the rifle to shoot the rope. Flash Goldplume let out a whistle like a boiling kettle. “Wow, Silas! You shot the human? Actually shot him, with a gun?” The animals murmured their amazement. Rob Robin, who was trying his best to look unimpressed, asked where Rex Washer was now, half-insinuating Silas and Mitch’s efforts might have failed to save their Council Member. Harry Perloo, the rabbit, brushed aside Rob’s comment, saying he had seen Washer hours ago, limping off to a tree to sleep. Robert Kat the bobcat corroborated what Harry said, licking his chops, staring hungrily at the rabbit. Even Bud Turkey was there, having somehow escaped his wife long enough to join the group for breakfast.
“Just you wait until you hear what they did next,” he said, presaging for the crowd, “Went and lit up the whole forest, not far from my roost. Thought the world was coming to the end, like Thanksgiving came early.”
“What? What happened?” Ralph asked, clearly enjoying being part of the group for a change, rather than be roped to his doghouse. “What did you guys do?”
Mitch was finishing up the story, making some generous additions to the events, the long-haired Buck Lowell a more challenging and cunning villain than Silas remembered; the size of the truck explosion, too, was amplified, the cause even more certainly because of Mitch planting the ammunition.
Silas got ready to leave, making his excuses. Animals called to him, imploring him to stay; but with Mitch to focus their attentions, to continue delivering the headliner bringing excitement to their day, most of the animals did not give him too much grief for leaving.
Only Sadie the squirrel pulled Silas aside to condole with him about Grace, having heard she died from Crystal. She wanted to talk to Silas about Crystal, to tell him Crystal needed Silas’ support, especially with the eggs incubating. Sadie was talking gently, the voice of concerned reason. This only served to annoy Silas, who didn’t need a lecture, especially from a bucktoothed rodent… a rodent who knew nothing of the pressure he was going through, the weight of the forest’s future carried by his wings alone.
Flash Goldplume rescued Silas from Sadie, herding him away with a large white wing. But he, too, had an agenda; Flash wanted to talk more about Silas’ accomplishments, the barn and the mercenaries, rumors about taking on a whole flock of pigeons by himself…. Silas tried fending off Flash’s fanboyish questions, saying they could talk later, but to no avail. It wasn’t until a large shadow flew overhead that Silas found his break.
Hawk Cooper had come to escort Silas to the Bear Cave. As they flew to the cave, Silas asked Cooper how he knew Silas and Poppa Bear had planned meeting there.
“Hell, Oaktree,” Cooper drawled, “You think you’re the only one smart enough to know Poppa Bear’s back in the woods? Barnes finds out fast, Oaktree. He’s at the cave. It’s his temporary headquarters, while the barn you destroyed,” Cooper paused, letting his blame carry across, “is rebuilt. We also know you’re gunning to be a right little action hero, fixed on storming the Fox Den. You don’t have the authority, Oaktree.”
Silas gave Barnes points for forgiveness, rooming in Momma Bear’s cave a night after she tried killing him. He imagined Barnes trying to roost, one bloodshot eye open as Momma Bear rolled around snoring in her sleep. “I’m not holding my breath for the Council anymore, Cooper. Poppa Bear and I — Momma Bear, every other animal who’s tired of being scared, waiting for their turn to be killed off by Fox — we’re going to the Den today. We’re going to fight … take Fox out. You and Barnes: you can be with us, or stay out of our way.”
“Excuse me?” said Cooper, trying to sound tough. He added, “Remember who you’re talking to, Oaktree,” but stayed quiet the rest of the way to the cave.
They went to land in the cave, having to circle around looking for a spot to land. Every bit of space in the cave was occupied: Poppa Bear lay on one side, looking entitled as Momma Bear was just outside the entrance, using her mouth to pull out buckets of fried chicken from a large plastic bag, her expression slavish adoration, a little flustered, as Poppa Bear accepted a bucket without thanks; Barnes was perched in the middle of the cave, atop a stack of papers, amid a sea of his memos, notebooks, and varying jars of inks and water. Barnes winced along with Silas and Cooper as they watched Poppa Bear crunch through chicken bones.
Poppa Bear nodded to Silas. “I’ll be ready to go, right after I eat. We’ll be ready,” he amended, looking at Momma Bear. She said nothing, but didn’t disagree. Of anyone there, she was ready to find her cubs more than anyone. Silas turned to Barnes.
“If you’re looking to stop us —”
Barnes forestalled him with a wing. “Silas, we not going to —”
“— Because I don’t care what you or Cooper says, we’re —”
“Oaktree!” Barnes boomed. “We’re not going to stop you. We’re going with you.”
“— Good for you,” Silas said sarcastically, not hearing, “but lot of luck trying to get in my —” He paused. “Wait, what?”
Barnes sighed. “I said we’re going with you, Oaktree. After having some time to consider…” Barnes looked around at his possessions, only part of which fit in the cave so full of bear. “I decided, especially after my visit with Council Member Washer this morning, that the time has come to take the Fox Den, bring in Fox —”
“Kill Fox,” Silas corrected, not caring how harsh he sounded. Barnes said nothing, considering him.
Finally Barnes said, “That is between you, and the Bears. Normally, such vigilantism in my forest — But under the circumstances …” He trailed off.
Silas marveled. If even Top Perch Barnes had run out of things to say… If that wasn’t a sign it was time to act, he did not know what was.
They set to planning the raid. Barnes called on the birds to alert everyone they could muster, any animal willing to fight against Fox and his considerable number of followers. The message networked from the birds to other birds, then to the other animals. Within the hour a gathering of animals nearly as large as what was at the Forest Council meeting was milling in the grounds around the Bear Cave.
Barnes and Cooper tried being heard, to discuss tactics with the crowd, but their cries to be heard were lost in the cacophony of disorganized animals. Some of the animals might have thought Barnes was instructing them to march, or maybe they were just impatient to get going, because a procession started in the direction of the Fox Den.
Silas decided to ride on the back of Momma Bear, gripping her fur in his talons as she trundled forward. The forest sloped downward, growing more dense as they moved deeper and deeper in the forest. Birds and beasts who chose not to fight watched from the trees as the army moved around them. After a couple miles the trees grew in around them, mostly bare pines with sharp branches, like those where Harvey and Silas had hid before approaching the Den. Silas looked around. He didn’t see Harvey. Nor had Silas expected him to join in the battle. Despite knowing his brother’s nature, he felt anger spike up in him. Rational or not, Silas held an expectation for the role his older brother was supposed to fill, and was hurt yet again when his expectation, based on a desire rather than reality, wasn’t met.
Silas refocused. He told Momma Bear to head for the underground level, describing the entrance on the other side of the Den. Silas suspected that the cubs might have be hidden there, though he hadn’t found anything when he explored it.
He flitted onto Poppa Bear’s head. “Something on your mind? Besides me?” Silas asked.
Poppa Bear groaned. “Matter of fact I do. When this thing breaks out, do you think this Fox is going to stick around?” He had voiced what Silas had been suspecting.
“Unlikely,” Silas said. “Fox is a schemer. Never takes a fight without an unfair advantage. He’s going to let us fight it out with his goons, then run, or hide behind your cubs. Wherever he thinks he has leverage… that’s where he’ll be.”
“You think he’ll lead us to the cubs?”
“I think so.” Poppa Bear nodded, and Silas had to dig in with his talons to save himself from falling off.
“You stick with me when it starts,” Poppa Bear said. “Help me find Fox, corner him. Then I’ll take it from there.”
They moved through the trees, the rest of the animals following. Around a few dense clusters of dead pines, they entered the clearing. The Fox Den stretched before them. A large line of beasts of all kinds stood before them, waiting. Silas saw the workers there from the night before last. There were also many, many more animals, large ones clearly for hire: Silas recognized the deer parents he used to move the stones on the road; there was a pack of wolves; a black bear, smaller than Poppa Bear that Silas didn’t recognize; a mountain lion; a few elk; three male humans with tattoos and leather, holding a hodgepodge of rifles. Fox stood in the center, in the front. He saw Silas.
“You’ve come back. I’m so thrilled.” Fox bared his teeth. “Get them!” he shouted. The animals behind him ran forward, engaging Silas’ group.
Animals clashed into each other, the Fox Den filling with the sounds of lashing claws and teeth. The report from the human’s rifles cracked through the clearing, cutting down a wolf before Alf Wolf’s pack circled the humans, half the pack surprising them from behind; the wolves lunged, the rifles’ shots were replaced with human screams.
One bullet had hit Poppa Bear in his flank. Silas flew to a nearby branch as the bear tossed his head, mouth frothing in rage. “Poppa Bear! You okay?”
“I’m fine,” Poppa Bear roared, “Just really pissed off!” He charged into the battle, raising to his full and considerable height on his back paws, clashing with the black bear hired by Fox. His rage at being shot made Poppa Bear an even more terrible opponent; in seconds the opposing bear succumbed to the ferocious onslaught, retreating in a gimping run into the forest.
Silas flew, watching the battle raging on the forest floor below. It was joined by a battle in the trees, climbers fighting it out tree by tree; Colin Squirrel and Chit Red Squirrel dueled the opossum Dell Henson; Henrietta Fields, the mouse mother, fought the bat who had tied Silas, scrambling nimbly around the bat as he screeched to locate her, missing Henrietta as he tried encircling her in his leathery wings.
High in the sky Hawk Cooper locked talons with another bird of prey, free-falling towards the ground, breaking apart at the last moment before hitting the ground, again gaining altitude to continue the fight. Silas noted how hawks did this as a courting ritual; he knew Patrolbird Cooper was fighting, but Silas filed away the scene in his memory, ready to bring it up to taunt Cooper the soonest chance he got.
Silas flew through the air battle, trying to avoid engaging in the fight directly. His one objective was to find Fox, who he had lost from view. He was searching the embattled menagerie for Fox when he hit into a brown feathery wall. A brown owl with mean eyes was coming around to hit Silas again.
“Where are you going, punk?” said the owl. “I remember you from before…. You’re not getting away this time!” He launched at Silas, who didn’t have enough lift to get away in time. The second before the owl collided with Silas, an obese turkey sailed sidelong at the brown owl, slamming him with her expansive butterball breast. The brown owl crumpled, plummeting to earth. “And stay down!” the turkey snarled.
Silas blinked. “Janine?” It was Janine Turkey, Bud Turkey’s henpecking wife. Silas was surprised she was here. “Tha-thanks!”
Janine eyed Silas cooly, her red fleshy wattle wobbling under her beak. “Don’t you have a fox to find? I want this tussle over so I can get my husband home!” She flew off, dive-bombing into a group of unfortunate enemy birds.
Silas hammered his wings through the air, getting lift, dodging the battling birds and bats around him. He scanned the Fox Den floor. Cougar Tanner-Smith was working over the father deer that had worked on the ramp. “Stay still, sweetheart. This will be over soon,” she purred, trying to land a paw on his hindquarters.
“Cougar, duck!” Silas shouted. She did, just in time, as a bee’s nest hurtled through the air, past where her head had been a moment before. It broke open, the swarm of angry bees attacking the animals. The deer saw his opportunity, bucking out at Cougar. He hit her with his hooves. She tumbled to the ground, the deer moving forward to finish the job. Silas swooped at the swarm of bees, catching one in his beak. He flew onto the deer’s head, shoving his beak in the deer’s ear, planting the bee inside. “Thanks for your help last night. Really appreciate it,” Silas said, flying off. The deer howled and bucked as the bee stung inside his head.
Barrels were rolling into the ranks of animals. One hit into Momma Bear as she was edging along the fight, heading towards the underground entrance. It broke open, scalding Crazy Berries coating her fur. She roared in pain at the burns, her cry so terrible it shook Silas to the hollow quills of his feathers. More barrels were hurtling through the crowd, aimed at the Forest Council’s army.
A grackle darted for Silas, its petulant eyes locked on him. They collided in midair, grappling beaks. The grackle’s suddenly broke off, a ball of yellow feathers latched on the bird’s back. It was Mitch. He called in a would-be casual voice to Silas, air wrestling the grackle, “Taking out those berry barrels would be nice.”
“On it!” Silas said. He flew for the production line of the Den. Even in the daylight the long fire pit blazed, the industrial equipment humming along. The cauldrons of berries moved along the cable track over the fire to the end of the line. Silas remembered being dragged past the barrels here, thrown into a waiting barrel by the flying squirrel Joshua Glider, waiting to be buried alive in molten berries.
A skunk and a badger worked on putting a lid on the filled barrels, sending the barrel down a roller track to an elk, who used his powerful antler rack to hurl the barrels at Silas’ allies. Silas flew a circle, analyzing the scenario. Not a chance he could stop the elk for long, or the skunk and badger prepping the barrels…. He traced the production line, the berry receiving area, the cauldrons, the overhead track and unloading system…. Then he saw it. By the barrels receiving the hot berry mixture, at the end of the fire pit, was a two-story metal scaffold. On top were buttons and bulbous status lights. A large bullfrog was up there, working a control switch with a pudgy hand.
Silas landed behind the frog. “I wished it wasn’t you I saw up here.” The bullfrog didn’t turn around just yet, pressing in a green button. A cauldron emptied into a barrel below. He spoke in a low, reverberating voice.
“My friend Silas.” He turned to meet Silas, his wide, ugly face staring. “Why does fate always conspire we meet at opposite banks of the creek?”
Silas shook his head sadly at his old acquaintance. “I think we choose which bank we’re on, Croak. Stop this.”
“You know we’re both too stubborn for that.” The frog raised his posture, nostrils flaring, the clear nictitating membrane sliding over his eyes. Silas was ready for what he knew was coming.
Croak leaped at Silas; the frog’s hind legs straightened, launching the bullfrog’s fat lumpy mass straight at him. Despite his anticipation, Silas was too slow. Croak’s big mouth closed around half Silas’ body. The frog jumped back, tossing Silas behind him. Silas chirped as he hit a rail support, knocking the wind out of him.
Croak made another ballistic lunge. This time Silas was ready, rolling aside, hopping on the frog’s back, going at his eyes with his beak. Croak closed his eyes, protecting them in his thick hide. He shouldered Silas off his back, shot out his tongue, lashing it Silas’ neck. He reeled Silas in, punching him in the face. Silas staggered back, his feet gripping the edge of the platform; Silas flapped his wings to keep from falling over the edge. Croak saw his chance, leaping to knock Silas off, down into the barrels, maybe into the fire pit beyond.
Silas dropped his wings, rotating around the leaping bullfrog. Croak’s protruding eyes widened at seeing only open air where Silas was a moment before, his body sailing off the platform. Silas clutched Croak’s back foot in his talons, anchoring himself with his other foot around the grating, one wing hugging the railing support. Croak dangled, hanging over the far drop to the ground below.
“You keep picking the wrong team, del Toro,” Silas said, gritting his beak against the strain of holding up the frog. “Make up for it! Help me save the Bear cubs. Where’s Fox?”
Croak’s long tongue lolled out his mouth, his bass voice strained as blood rushed to his head. “Okay, Silas, okay! I saw him run south, up the hill … towards the bluffs.”
“Thanks,” Silas said. “Until next time.” He let go of Croak. The bullfrog plummeted to the ground, his head glancing against a barrel. He landed on the ground, unmoving, groaning painfully. Silas went to the control box, finding the red stop button. When he hopped on it, the cauldrons running over the fire jerked to a halt.
Silas looked up from the control panel to find a huge black bird on the scaffold railing, looking at him. Pure hate welled up in Silas. “Tony Crow,” he said, “You come to kill me, too? Grace wasn’t enough for you?” Mitch landed by Silas, followed by Mack Starling, Rob Robin, and Rose Topbranch. Silas was glad for the support, but even all of them combined, he didn’t think a match for the large crow. Tony Crow scoffed.
“I’m not here to fight you, Oaktree. I’m done working for Fox; his days are over.”
Silas didn’t trust the crow. “Then what are you here for?”
“To do you a favor. Maybe, one day, you can do me a kindness in turn.”
Silas spat. “To Hell with you, Crow.” Crow looked at the massive fire pit below them, the teaming grounds of the Fox Den, full of animals fighting each other. “Looks like we’re already there, doesn’t it? I won’t help you end this. Like I said, I want no part. But I do have a piece of information for you.”
Mack Starling spoke. “What is it, then?”
“The two bear cubs, the challenge Fox gave Momma Bear —”
“He did it to try and kill off the Council, I know,” Silas said. “If that’s all —”
“That’s true,” Crow said. “But what no ones knows is why. He wasn’t doing it for power. There was something else he was planning… the Bears were just the start. No one was supposed to find out, not even me —”
“Then why are you telling us now?” It was Rob Robin, his truculence for once directed at someone besides Silas.
Crow’s stared down Rob with a merciless eye. “Like I said… a favor. I don’t know much, but I know how Oaktree fancies himself a detective: maybe he can figure it out. I overhead Fox say he was planning something — something big — at Gambler’s Peak.”
Silas knew the rock formation. It was some miles off, barren of most forms of life. But he didn’t have time for this now. “Things aren’t over between us, Crow. When I’m done with Fox —”
“Yes, yes,” Crow waved aside Silas’ words. “Very threatening. Like I said, I’m done with Fox. And you, for the time being.” Tony Crow flew off, away from the battle.
“What was that about?” Mitch asked, mystified.
“Doesn’t matter,” Silas said shortly. “Fox is going towards the bluffs. Croak told me.”
Mitch looked at him. “Croak del Toro? Here? Figures — that slimy frog working for Fox….”
They took off over the battle, finding Poppa Bear tossing an elk bodily to the ground. Silas landed on the unconscious elk. “Fox is making a run for it.”
Poppa Bear grunted, huffing, out of breath. “Lead the way.”
The birds decided on flying a fork formation to flush out Fox. Mack, Rob, and Rose took the left, leading the wolf pack and John Deer, Mitch and Silas taking the right, spotting for Poppa Bear. Silas and Mitch sailed over the trees, looking through the branches whizzing by underneath.
A few minutes of searching passed, Silas near certain Fox had holed up somewhere hidden. Then they saw a streak of red-brown, running along the rise of the forest floor. Mitch fell back to signal Poppa Bear.
Silas landed in a branch in front of Fox. “You’re running out of trail, Fox. You’re between a forest full of animals with your scent, and a hundred foot drop.” He indicated the edge of the cliff. “Give up.” The dragnet closed, the sound of animals crashing through the forest coming from all sides.
Silas enjoyed the heady rush of power, of being the one to find Fox first, to deliver Fox to his fate. Fox’s running turned into a trot, then, slowed to a stop. His ears twitched like aerial antennae, picking up sounds of the impending mob coming for him. Fox looked up at Silas. Instead of a sneer, or some last acidic remark, as Silas expected, Fox smiled. Then, slowly, he started to laugh, a high, tittering laugh.
“Oh, Silas….” Fox laughed, yipping immoderately in his mirth. “You … You really are one tough bird to break.”
“You’re done, Fox. Give up the cubs. Where are they?” Other birds were landing now. A battered Hawk Cooper landed roughly in a branch nearby; John Deer and some other bucks closed in from the south; Poppa Bear came forward through the trees. They all moved forward, forcing Fox to retreat back towards the edge of the cliff. Loose pebbles skittered from under his back paw, falling over the edge.
“The cubs,” Fox said. “Little Joe Bear and ‘The Griz’: they’re my leverage, Silas. If I ever tried to teach you anything, it’s you’ve got to find leverage — use animals’ weaknesses against them —”
Poppa Bear growled. “Let’s see how much leverage you, have, going over this cliff….”
Fox barked a gale of laughter. “Pops, what a toughie you are! But your robin friend here might not be too happy if I took a spill now…. Seeing as your cubs aren’t the only babies missing …”
A spike of dread starting in his tail traveled up Silas’ spine. “What did you do?” Fox’s face was animated now, wild with a delight Silas thought incongruous to the fox’s predicament.
“I didn’t have to do anything, Silas,” Fox said, “Like I said, we had an agreement. You won the challenge — you still didn’t tell me how you escaped…. Any chance of that now? No? Well — You escaped my challenge. I said I wouldn’t touch you or your family. That included Crystal … and your four little eggs.”
Silas’ wings felt shaky, like useless jelly tentacles hanging off his body. “Where are they?” he rasped.
“That I don’t know, Oaktree,” Fox said. “But I’m not your only adversary in the forest.” Fox adopted a pouty face. “And here I was … thinking you had your wings full with me….”
“What are you —”
Fox enjoyed Silas’ look of cluelessness. He tittered. “You haven’t figured who it is yet, have you?!” He didn’t see Poppa Bear moving closer, or if he did, didn’t pay the hulking bear the slightest attention. Fox’s eyes were just for Silas. “You haven’t! Ha! And after all of those killings! I thought after seeing Mole pinned up … or when that old human hag bit the dust —”
Poppa Bear hit Fox across the face. Fox picked himself off the ground, laughing harder than ever. Silas shouted, “Your orders, your kill! What have you done with my eggs? Where’s the cubs?”
Fox looked like he was having the time of his life as Poppa Bear hit him again, Fox shaking his head to clear it. “There’s so much you don’t know … You think no one can have leverage on you, Oaktree, that no one can have one up on you. But I just didn’t know where to look. With these mindless Bears it was too easy —” Another hit for Poppa Bear made Fox spit blood. “But you, Silas — You throw yourself into your detective work. I didn’t realize you were one to keep a wingspan away from what’s important to you — probably afraid of getting hurt…. But while you were here stirring up a pointless fight against me, someone’s been visiting your nest.” Fox starting laughing uncontrollably.
Poppa Bear went to hit him again, to demand where his cubs were, when Fox’s back feet slipped. He was hanging off the edge, his front paws digging in to hold on. Poppa Bear groaned surprise; John Deer moved forward to help. The two animals reached to grab Fox, to pull him up.
That’s when Fox let go.
Silas flew to the cliff’s edge, landing just as Fox’s body landed with an small, anticlimactic thud. The hundred foot drop, onto rock and sharp sticks, the unmoving red-furred carcass of the fox … Silas knew it was pointless to send animals down to check.
John Deer peered down at Fox, saying, “He didn’t say where the cubs are….” Mitch landed by Silas, shaking him with a wing. “Buddy, Crystal, the eggs…. c’mon….”
They left the cliff, Silas already forgetting about the siege of the Fox Den, like it were some unimportant task on a list he had long since cast aside.