The Trials of Alar

12

Alar was up before the sun, as was his wont. It had been a strange thing to sleep in a bed without Adam beside him, and the mattress was not the best, but he had been tired enough to fall asleep anyway, and even to dream of his beloved. The dreams had evidently done him a world of good too, for his stiffness and soreness had receded immensely.

He left the cozy little bedroom behind and took a seat at the breakfast table, where he questioned Widow Mags on the route to Boarra over a warm bowl of white acorn porridge. He listened carefully as she gave him her best instructions.

“You’ll want to head straight through the trees going east ‘til you come to an old fallen oak bridge that’s been there since I was a little girl. Cross that, then carry on and you’ll come to the city’s side gate.”

“Sounds straightforward enough,” said Alar as a little pair of ear tufts popped up beside him. “Well, hello there, young un.” He rubbed Tucker between the ears.

“We goin’ away, Mista Alar?”

“I’ll be going soon, yes. But you’ll need to stay here where it’s safe.”

“But I like Mista Alar.”

“Well, I’m flattered, but…”

“Tucker here knows the forest like the back of his paw,” spoke Mags. “He’d be a wonderful guide for you.”

“It could be awfully dangerous, miss. And I’ll have to move very quickly.”

“All the more reason you’ll need him, I think. Besides, he’s very fond of you. Even more than usual with strangers, I dare say.”

“Aye. A little too fond, it seems,” remarked Alar, gently deflecting a paw reaching for his whiskers.

“Can I come wiv you, Alar? Please?”

Alar looked into the shiny, imploring eyes of the kit, then to Widow Mags one more time as though for approval. She nodded and smiled. Alar regarded Tucker once more and sighed.

“Fine, but you’ll have to keep up and do exactly as I tell you, all right?”

“All right.” Tucker nodded for emphasis.

“Well, I guess we’ll be headed out now.” Alar rose from his seat. “I don’t know when the signing will be, but if they’ve reached the capital, then it could be sometime today.”

“I understand, Alar. And I wish you all the best.” She stooped down to address Tucker. “Now you be a good boy, and don’t cause Mister Alar too much trouble, all right?”

“Yes, Miz Mags.”

“Very good. Then Skiourosspeed, you two. And if you can, come back for a visit when all is said and done.”

“We’ll try,” replied Alar. “Come on, Tuck.”

As Mags watched them depart into the still dark morning, she could not help smiling to herself. Despite his stoic, even brusque exterior, Alar was a good squirrel. In fact, he might just be exactly what Tucker needed in his life. Whatever happened, this journey would be very good for them both.

Thus, after leaving the village of Tunra, Alar once more found himself wandering through the underbrush alongside Tucker. As he had feared, the young squirrel didn’t take long to start pelting him with questions, but he did not prove as much of a hindrance as Alar had reckoned. In fact, there were times when he found that he was the one struggling to keep up with the kit, who hounded him incessantly over it.

“C’mon, Mista Alar! You keep up or we be late!”

Alar wanted to argue, but he really couldn’t. So, he grudgingly held his tongue and trudged on. There were a couple times when his soreness re-emerged and he almost asked Tucker to slow down, but he chided himself immediately afterward.

You need to speed up, more like! he thought. They think you’re dead. Adam thinks you’re dead! Prove them wrong. Keep that promise you made so long ago that you’d always come back.

He continued this stream of thoughts for that first hour of hiking. The words gave him the will to keep going even in the moments when he began to flag. At last he could hear the sound of rushing water and redoubled his efforts. He found Tucker back on the ground looking out across a great expanse of river. He paused to gather his breath and take in his surroundings, then felt a tug at his leg fur. He looked down to see Tucker sucking one paw and pointing off to the east across the river. Alar looked where he pointed and discerned above the forest canopy the top of a tower. So, they were headed the right way, at least. He patted the little squirrel on the head.

“Well spotted, Tuck,” he said. “Now let’s find that log bridge.”

“Is thissaway!” spoke Tuck, emboldened by the words of praise and eager to earn some more. He took off at a fast walk along the riverbank to the right. Alar shook his head, but smiled to himself as he followed. After a minute, he noticed Tucker had clambered up onto a fallen tree that lay lengthwise along the bank and was balancing along it.

“Get down from there, Tucker. You’ll fall off.”

“No I won’t. I do it alla time. Whoops!”

No sooner was it said than he misplaced a foot and tumbled head over heels down the bank.

“Tuck!” exclaimed Alar, dropping his satchel of provisions and rushing to the bank. He could see the tiny form of Tucker spluttering and struggling against the current.

“Mista Alaaaaar!” he cried, looking frightened for the first time since Alar had met him.

In a flash, Alar was over the log and in the water. He swam with the current toward the squirrel kit until he reached him.

“Hang on, Tuck! I’ve got you.”

Tuck did hang on, clinging to Alar’s neck a little tighter than the warrior squirrel had expected. Alar was a powerful swimmer, and without the added burden, he might have been able to swim back to the bank despite his injured shoulder. But with Tucker hindering his movements, it was all he could do to stay afloat as they were pushed nearer and nearer a small waterfall.

“Hold your breath, Tuck!” shouted Alar right before they plunged into the lower river, which was joined by another stream at that point. They dipped below the water’s surface for a moment, then popped up hacking and coughing. A tangle of dead shrubs reached out to try and snag them from beneath the surface, but the force of the current pushed them through. More sticks and brambles reached out from the bank and scratched Alar across the face. In between trying to dodge these and keep their heads above water, Alar looked desperately for a way out. A low branch extended toward them. He reached out for it and missed. Another loomed ahead.

“Grab that branch when we reach it!” he directed Tucker. The little squirrel stretched out one paw while still clinging to Alar with the other. As soon as the branch came by, he was up it in the blink of an eye. Alar followed suit, hauling himself out of the water with an immense effort, fighting not only the current, but the weight of his thoroughly saturated tail as well. From there, he worked his way up the branch—which turned out to be a root—and up onto the bank. He sank down coughing and gasping for air, his whole body absolutely sodden once again.

Not to mention leaving another perfectly good satchel of provisions behind, he thought bitterly.

He shook himself off a bit, then spotted Tucker standing nearby. He was likewise completely soaked, and shivering a bit in the open air, but this did not seem to concern him in the least. He stood instead staring at something beyond. Or rather, someone, as Alar discovered when he finally looked up.

Several squirrels in hoods stood around watching the two survivors of the river’s fury. They held bows or spears, but did not point them at the pair. They merely observed Alar and Tucker for a moment before one stepped forward and spoke:

“Are you and the babe all right?”

“As well as we can be,” replied Alar curtly.

“That is well,” said the squirrel, a middle-aged gray with a commanding voice. “What are you doing here, Kentroan?

“I fell from a great height,” Alar answered curtly but honestly. He then noticed the crest on their jerkins and added, “But then, I should think you’d know all about that.”

The squirrels exchanged looks of consternation at this accusation, and a few whispered to each other. Only the leader seemed unperturbed, though even he sighed as he spoke again.

“There has been a grave misunderstanding, I fear. But if you will come with us, I believe it could be cleared up very quickly.”

“Our road leads to Boarra,” replied Alar, positioning himself protectively beside Tucker. “Why should we come with you?”

“Firstly, because I feel we’ve much to talk about. Secondly, because we know the way to Boarra.”

“We’re in a great hurry.”

“We shall not delay you long, I promise.”

“Do I have a choice?” Alar asked more directly, knowing well the answer.

The leader merely sighed. “Let us merely say that it would be to everyone’s benefit if you came along willingly.”

Alar looked around and understood perfectly what he meant. He nodded with a grunt.

“Then lead on. But if this be some kind of trick…”

“Rest assured, my intentions are purely honorable. We wish no harm upon you or your son.”

“He’s not my son,” Alar corrected stubbornly. “But he is under my protection.”

“Your companion, then.”

“All right. Let’s get going.”

“Of course. But if I might at least know your name before we go?”

Alar was not sure why, but looking this hooded squirrel in the pale gray eyes, he felt no desire to be deceptive, and answered in full, “Alar of Red Fields.”

“Very well, Alar. Then away we go. You will have to be blindfolded first. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Wouldn’t matter if I did, now would it?”

“Wise squirrel.” He signaled to his band, and two came forth with black strips of cloth. Alar allowed himself to be blindfolded, but he could hear Tucker wriggling around and resisting.

“Don’t struggle, Tuck,” he directed in a calm voice. “It’ll be all right.”

Tucker obeyed and stopped resisting immediately. The two were then led away from the river and into the depths of Corallia’s oaken wilderness with nary a sound.