Sheepskin, Volume I
Part 1: The Old Ram
Chapter 4
307: I sat in the living room, watching out the window. “You knew who Durdge was all this time, Dad?”
When he didn’t answer, I glanced back. He was rolling a dry log into the fireplace.
“Dad, what are you doing? It’s almost summer.”
He kept ignoring me. Next into the fireplace was a stack of old Chugg Report newspapers. Finally, he plucked a match from a box on the mantlepiece and scuffed it against the concrete floor. He held it in his hoof and contemplated the flame for a second before tossing it. Now he had a much bigger fire to stare at.
I crossed the room and stood next to him. “Are you OK, Dad?”
He blinked. “Yes, son. Fine.”
“What’s on your mind?”
“Nothing at all.”
“Don’t do that, Dad. Let’s talk about it.”
“There’s nothing to talk about, son.”
I shook my head. I had to change my approach if I wanted to get anywhere. “Why didn’t you fight Durdge and his thugs? Did you not really think you could take them?”
He didn’t look at me, but I saw him tense up. “I would have won that fight. That’s why they backed down.”
“But maybe you should have hurt them anyway. They got away. Now they’re back in Fleece City harassing other sheep.”
“That’s not my problem.”
“Yeah, I know. Everyone you’re concerned about lives under this roof.”
“That’s right.”
“But you go talk to the Quarry sheep.”
“Not anymore.”
“Since when?”
“Since this morning.”
“What happened?”
“I’ll tell you some other time.”
I paused to take a deep breath and think. I still wasn’t making any headway. “Dad, why did you kill warthogs?”
“That was just bluster, son. I thought you’d pick up on that.”
“Dogshit. You have bloodstains on your horns.”
“Watch your mouth.”
“What did you do, Dad?”
“This conversation is over.”
“You think if you hold out long enough, I’ll just shut up and do as I’m told.”
My father nodded. “That’s right.”
A new angle of attack occurred to me. “That’s just like those pigs. All Durdge wants me to do is stay in line. You’re the same as him.”
“Yep.” He poked at a smoldering log with the point of a horn. “You won’t get under my skin, son, but that was a good try. You want to know why I don’t want you to follow my example? Why I want you to do as the pigs tell you? Take a guess.”
“I don’t know, Dad. I give up.”
He finally turned to me. “Because that’s how you’ll stay alive. And that matters to me more than winning a fight. It matters more than that idiot who threw his life away to break a pig’s nose this morning. It matters more than all the sheep in the Quarry.”
The way he said it robbed me of any more will to argue. I nodded. He returned the nod.
“By the way,” he said, “I saw your final exam. Thank you for doing well on it. I know you had a choice in the matter, and you made the right one. I’m proud of you. University will be better. I promise.”
I sighed. “How do you know that?”
The old man favored me with a wry smile. “Because the founder is an old friend of mine. Trust me, you and Professor Caper are a lot alike.”
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I couldn’t sleep that night. I think the adrenaline from my meeting with Durdge hadn’t yet worked its way out of my system. I was facing the window, but I heard the creak of my bedroom door and saw the distinctive shadow of my father’s head fall across my wall. That seemed unusual, but I didn’t react right away.
A hissing sound from the living room—he must have doused the last embers in the fireplace. Then I heard the front door open and close. My ears perked up. I’d woken up to find him gone before; guess if he ever told me where he went. I usually figured he was walking around the property, stretching out his leg or having a midnight snack. But this was the first time I’d actually heard him leave. And I felt like finding out.
Keeping as quiet as I could, I unlatched my window and slid out into the backyard. The air felt nice and cool this late. I pulled the pane shut behind me and hunched down against the side of the house for a minute. Good thing, too, because he came by right then. I could only see a faint silhouette—there wasn’t much moonlight to go by—but there was no mistaking his heavy footsteps in the grass. He did a full circle of the yard along the fence. I crept around the house to keep him in sight. If he started heading back to the house, my plan was to dash back to my window.
But he didn’t. He got to the gate and opened it up. I ducked by the porch steps until he had closed it behind him, then I scrambled down the path to keep him in sight. I squeezed under the fence so I wouldn’t lose time working the gate. After that, he stuck to the path and so did I. Trying to hide in the long grass would have made too much noise. And I didn’t want to bump into anything unpleasant lurking in there.
Ahead, Fleece City formed a backlight that made seeing my father much easier. Once he had almost reached the city gate, he turned a sharp left. I followed him as he walked wide around the north end of the city, wondering the whole time why he hadn’t just gone straight through. Unless he didn’t want the guards to know he was there.
Then we were on the eastern side of Fleece City. I had never been over here very much. Now I did hide in the tall grass because he would have seen me if he turned around. Up ahead were two buildings: an old-timey stone and mortar fortress covered in ivy, and a small pointed structure. They were only about a hundred yards apart. He headed for the smaller one.
I hung back, hunkering down in a grass thicket while he walked up to the door. He didn’t knock—he scraped a hoof against the concrete walkway. It wasn’t very loud, but it seemed to be enough for whoever was inside. The door creaked open.
A dog came out. I couldn’t see him very well, but he was shorter and wider than my dad. The two leaned in and bumped their shoulders together, a traditional canine greeting. The dog sniffed around the concrete walkway, then raised his head and sniffed the air.
At the same time, a movement from above caught my eye. I looked up in time to see wings spreading out on the roof. A large bird had been sitting up there, so still I hadn’t seen it. Once it landed next to my dad, I could make it out. It was an owl, with two long crests on his head. He looked big enough to fly off with me if he wanted.
My dad took a step through the doorway, but both the dog and the owl moved into his path.
“Trampler, my brother,” the dog said, “it seems your old age has blunted your senses. Do you smell that, Caper?”
The owl tilted his head. “I will leave the smelling to you, Boxer. You forget that these moonless nights are when my eyes do their best work. I’ve been watching him since he rounded the sheep city. Old Trampler, you were followed.”
My father shook his head. “Just my luck. And the way today’s going, I’m half hoping you tell me it’s a spy for Chugg or a wild dog trying to jump me. Heck, I’d settle for Entomber at this point. But it’s worse than that, isn’t it?”
“Much worse.” The owl straightened up. “Come over here, young man.”
My face burned as I got to my feet. All three of them stared as I came up to the building. I glanced at an embossed sign over the door that read TOOTH & CLAW.
My dad got right in my face. “What are you doing here, son?”
“I followed you. What are you doing here?”
He glared at me for a moment, then he looked back. Both of the others nodded to him. Then he sighed and faced me again. “Come inside, son. We’ll talk.”
The four of us filed through the door, and the dog, Boxer, shut it behind us. With the low light in here, I could take a look around. The floor was covered in soft canvas. Every corner was piled with leather dummies, shields, and helmets. The words TOOTH & CLAW MARTIAL ARTS BY BOXER were stenciled high on the far wall. I glanced at posters that said things like “HoundBlood Tournament 242” and “Sign Up to Fight the Mauler.”
Boxer led us to the opposite end of the room, sniffing along the bottom edge of the wall, then he stood up on his hind legs and pressed a brick with his front paw. That section of wall swung back, revealing a passage.
My father led the way in. “Watch the step,” he said. I followed him, carefully placing my hooves. We were headed down concrete stairs. Once we were all inside, Boxer pulled the hidden door shut behind him and covered us in total darkness.
“Stop here,” my father said. I obeyed. A second later I heard a click behind me, and a string of bare lightbulbs came on overhead. We were in a dirt tunnel supported with wooden beams. The lights followed the staircase down in a gentle spiral. My father continued down the steps with me right behind. Boxer brought up the rear with Caper riding on his back.
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At the bottom of the steps the tunnel opened up into a long, straight passage. I couldn’t see to the far end, but I could tell the tunnel doubled back underneath the Tooth & Claw building above our heads. I thought of what I had seen in the plains.
“Does this lead to that bigger building?” I asked.
“That’s right,” Caper said. “This tunnel connects Tooth & Claw to University. We dug it ourselves. You are now the fifth person ever to know of its existence.”
“This actually looks familiar,” I said. “But I don’t know why.”
“Perhaps you remember being brought down here when you were very small,” Boxer suggested. “When the proud new father was showing you off.”
We walked a short way down the tunnel and sat on the dirt floor. Now I could take a closer look at my father’s two friends. Boxer was extremely muscular, a dark chestnut brown color with black on his muzzle and white on his chest. He wore a collar with a silver medal on it that read CHIEF OFFICER. He had a calm, meditative air about him. Caper was tawny, mottled with black, and had amber-colored eyes. He seemed a lot more serious than Boxer. But both of them had that same hard-eyed look as my father. They’d seen and done terrible things. I could tell that right away.
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Caper shuffled over to me and peered at me closely. “I imagine you have many questions, Snapper.”
I nodded.
“I’ll ask you to save them until the end. Your father has not appeared at one of our meetings in quite some time. For him to call us together after so long means that his concern must be grave indeed.”
I rounded on my dad. “You called this meeting? How?”
He didn’t say anything.
“The fireplace,” Boxer said. “We check the horizon for smoke several times a day.”
I shook my head, dumbfounded. The three of them closed ranks, shutting me out of the conversation. I lay down and rested my head on the cool dirt to listen.
“What troubles you, brother?” Boxer asked.
“Most of my problems followed me here,” my father said. “I am concerned for the boy. Did you hear about the assault on the bank manager this morning?”
“Old Slog finally got what was coming to him,” Boxer said with a snicker.
“But the perpetrator was arrested,” Caper added. “Did Entomber take him?”
“Right in front of us,” my father answered. “Snapper tried to intervene. I held him. I didn’t want to—the boy’s power could have given that man a chance to live. But everyone would have seen. It would have been in violation of the agreement I made with Chugg. I was forced to let that sheep die to preserve my son’s secret.”
“Snapper learned a hard lesson, then,” said Caper.
“I wish it were that simple. Durdge noticed. He came to our home. He’s got clones now. Warthogs. Just like the ones we… eradicated.”
Caper’s face turned distant. “I can keep Snapper out of sight at University, if he behaves.”
“I am not sure we are going to make it that long.” My father coughed. “This Vexylam they are giving me doesn’t do anything. I’m getting sicker. Entomber is so close I can smell him. He’s going to take me soon. Then who will keep my son in line?”
“We will not let that happen,” Boxer said in that serene voice.
“I wish I believed you.” My father’s voice shook. “The Chugg Corporation’s monsters are at my doorstep. And it’s not just me and mine I worry for. The Quarry sheep feel the strain too. Shiver told me about his young daughter. She won’t survive that place if we are not careful.”
Caper narrowed his eyes and said, “I know of her. Dreamer. I can get her out of there as early as the fall if she keeps out of trouble until then.”
Boxer took a deep breath. “I will order Fowler and his men to ease off on the Quarry sheep.”
“Fowler is a coward,” my father said. “It’s not him that concerns me. It’s the pig. And you have no authority over him.”
“Scurvert wouldn’t dare harm that girl,” Boxer answered. “Not while Shiver is around.”
My dad shook his head. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”
A flicker traveled along the lights, starting at the far end of the tunnel and racing over our heads. All three of them looked down the passage.
“It’s alright,” Boxer called. “This is Snapper. He’s a young friend.”
The wool on my back stood on end as a tendril of shadow detached itself from the darkness at the far end, creeping along the floor. As it got closer, I could see that it was a solid mass. I would say it looked like tar or obsidian, but that doesn’t do it justice. It didn’t reflect any light. Just a puddle of what looked like negative space. When it came up to me, it expelled a wrinkled ball of white cloth, then another that was blue.
The black mass grew straight up from the ground, reaching into the pieces of cloth it had just produced. As the pieces of fabric unfurled, I realized they were a tattered white shirt and blue shorts. I never wore clothes, but the elite pigs sometimes wore things like this.
“This is Tenber,” Boxer said. “He seems to have taken up residence here recently. He’s a talented spy and a very good keeper of secrets. To take a physical shape, he has to cling to an object. He prefers clothing, as you can see. Otherwise, he melts back into the shadows.”
The creature’s form changed as he threaded through the shirt and pants, growing arms, legs, and a head. He looked thin but pretty fit. A pair of flat blue eyes appeared in his head, a mix between the dark blue of his pants and the white of his shirt. At the time, the only reference I had for his body shape was Charlie Chugg or the puppet hanging from Ptera Peak.
PARCE: So he was human-shaped.
307: Right. Anyway, once Boxer had vouched for me, this creature didn’t take any more notice of me. He filled up his clothes and then sat down and joined the meeting, like he’d known my father for years.
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“There’s a lot on your mind,” said Caper. “You worry for your son and other young sheep.”
“The jaws of the enemy are shutting around you,” Boxer said with his eyes closed. “You can’t hold them back even though you try to abide by Chugg’s laws.”
“So why do it their way?” came a low voice. It took me a minute to realize it had come from the shadow man, Tenber.
“What do you mean?” my father asked.
“I mean if following their orders isn’t working, why not try something else?”
Boxer opened one eye. “Elaborate, please, Tenber.”
“From what you all tell me, it has been decades since the pigs have seen the damage a ram can do.”
My father shook his head. “I couldn’t. They would punish my son for my crimes.”
“Perhaps not,” Boxer said. “The HoundBlood Tournament is in a few days.”
“Exactly,” said Tenber. “Enter the tournament. Scare the hell out of them.”
“I can’t compete. Only dogs can fight for rank in the HoundBlood.”
Boxer stood up. “We have exhibition matches. You could fight the Mauler. That would do it. If you beat that creature, every tail in that arena will tuck under. Even Entomber would think twice about bothering you.”
I walked into the circle. “What’s the Mauler?”
Boxer smiled. “When we go upstairs, I’ll show you.”
“Could you make that match happen?” Caper asked. “Would the Commander allow it?”
“I will convince him. He’s never managed to sell arena tickets to birds, but they will come to watch their champion the Trampler.” Boxer’s smile faded. “I’ll appeal to the Commander’s greed. He speaks of honor, but he loves nothing more than money.”
“I don’t want to draw any more attention to my son,” my father said.
“On the contrary,” Caper said, “having him out in the open might do you both some good. It may show the pigs that he has nothing to hide. You want him to participate in society, yes?”
My father took a long breath with some difficulty. “Alright. I’ll do it. I don’t like the idea, but I have exhausted every other option.”
“That’s why you came to us.” Caper glanced at me and winked. “We give good advice.”
“So you’ll get the girl out of the Quarry?”
Caper nodded. “I’ll put her University invitation in the mail first thing in the morning.”
Boxer scratched behind his ear with a hind leg. “A plan of attack, then. Trampler, are you satisfied with this?”
“As well as I can be.”
The dog smiled. “Meeting adjourned, then. Snapper, come with me.”
Tenber, the shadow man, shed his clothes and returned to his shapeless form. Then he absorbed the shirt and shorts and retreated into the darkness as if he’d never been there. I shook my head at the utter strangeness of it, but I had seen so many bizarre things today that I was starting to get used to it.
Boxer led me up the steps and back through the hidden door into his gym. We stopped at the front door. My dad walked past us and let himself out, with Caper doing that shuffling walk right behind him. They said a few more quiet words to each other on the front porch, then Caper spread his huge wings and took off for the trees around Ptera Peak, where most birds lived.
“I doubt your father has told you much about canine culture,” Boxer said.
“You’re right. I know dogs hold a tournament every year, but that’s about it.”
He pulled a poster off the wall and rolled it up. “The HoundBlood Tournament is how we organize our society. For us men, our authority and social standing are all tied up in our fighting ability. So it’s a chance to move up if you train hard. You’ll understand when you see it for yourself.” He sat and held the rolled-up poster out with a paw. “Here.”
“Thank you.” I gently clamped the gift in my teeth.
“Come on, son,” my father said. “You need to get some sleep. It sounds like we’re going to be busy for the next few days.”
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I was still tired the next morning, but I was a motormouth the whole way from our house back to Tooth & Claw. I couldn’t help it. I was too excited. I was finally doing something besides school, you know? My dad ignored my best questions, as usual.
I asked him if he’d finally tell me about the time he killed warthogs. He didn’t answer that one. I asked him why Boxer had called him the champion of birds. And I asked him to tell me about the dog commander. He didn’t answer those either. But it didn’t bother me. This was still a side of him I had never gotten to see.
“I had no idea, Dad. I take back what I said yesterday. All this time you’ve been meeting those guys in secret?”
“Yep.”
“So, what do you do? Just make plans to help protect people where you can?”
“That’s about it, son. Yes.”
“Did you stop going to the Quarry because of that girl you were talking about?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you let me come to those meetings with you before? If I had known, I wouldn’t have been so frustrated with you.”
“I wanted to distance you from Caper and Boxer while you were a child. There’s a reason. I’ll leave it at that.”
“OK, fair enough. So you’re really going to fight in the HoundBlood Tournament?”
“An exhibition match. Just to entertain the crowd.”
“Have you fought the Mauler before?”
“No. But I’ve seen him fight.”
“What’s he like? Is he strong?”
“He picks up dogs and throws them clear out of the arena.”
I slowed down a little. “Wow. What is he?”
“No one really knows. He’s not exactly a dog. They keep him chained up under the arena and bring him out for training and matches.”
“So he’s some kind of bait animal.”
“That’s one way to put it, yes.”
“How is Boxer going to train you for that?”
“He’s the second-in-command of the entire dog society. Did you see his silver medal? He’s fought the Mauler many, many times. He’ll know what to do.”
I nodded and went quiet for a minute. Then another question came to mind. “Do you think this will work? If they see you fight, will Durdge and Entomber get scared?”
“That’s what I’m banking on.”
“What if they don’t?”
Now it was my dad who stopped. To my surprise, he looked up Ptera Peak at the hanging wooden dummy, the one we were supposed to ignore. “Then I don’t know what I’ll do.”
We got to the Tooth & Claw gym. Boxer didn’t act secretive this time. The place was open, and there were customers inside. They were all dogs, middle-aged and older, and they all had a tag on their collar with the Tooth & Claw logo. My dad said it was a membership badge.
The next three days are a blur. I watched my dad train with the dogs. They grappled and threw each other to the mat. They stood on their hind legs, clinching up with each other and hitting with hooves, paws, and elbows. I knew he was a fighter, but I’d never seen his skills. All of those dogs respected him. His only weakness was his breathing.
I remember asking Boxer one time if sheep ever trained here at Tooth & Claw. He told me, “They’re invited, but no one seems interested.”
In the evenings, Caper the owl came by to watch. Once night fell, I sometimes caught sight of Tenber moving in the shadows. We didn’t bother to go home. My father and I slept right there on the padded floor.
I think it was the second day when my father gave in and let me get in on the action. I met Boxer’s friends—Ledger, the great Dane. There was a Leonberger named… Berger. A greyhound named Tuxer. Two Labrador-shepherd mix brothers nicknamed Hero and Bravo. All of them were kind and welcoming, even though I was nervous. Most of my experience with dogs up until then had been centered around the Fleece City guards.
They let me punch the pads with my hooves and charge with my head. They let me grapple with them—bracing all your legs and pushing against the other guy with your shoulder, trying to get your head on top and put him off balance. Or standing up on your hind legs to clinch and throw. Of course, I had nothing on these guys. But they were patient.
Boxer kept saying, “You can fight without claws, teeth, hooves, or horns. Learn to throw, and you’ve got the best weapon of all—the planet. The bigger your enemy, the harder he’ll hit the ground.”
I have repeated that one to myself every day since then.