Ms. Fast talks about how intense the sun can be on the prairie when the scent from the woods drifts past Big Al again.
Something small, the size of an appetizer, darts through the shaded trees. It smells a little like coyote, a little like fox, and nothing like Pelican. With Ms. Fast facing the landing strip, Big Al decides to slip towards the trees.
The woods are similar to those that surrounded the swamp, but not as wet. With a sudden longing, Big Al finds himself almost missing Stinkwater Marsh.
Perhaps one day I will return to the swamp and enjoy just basking in the water, he thinks. Until then, the city is where I go. And woods. Mmm…they smell delicious and mysterious.
As the scent draws him deeper into the woods, Big Al notices this is not Stinkwater Marsh.
Branches scratch at his drying skin, but his hands are fine thanks to the moisturizer. Leaves crunch under his feet. He can smell much smaller animals running away, and it isn’t long before a root sticks out and trips him. Down goes the crocodile, crashing underneath a Mountain Ash in a sprawl.
“Rick? Rick? Where’d you go?” calls Ms. Fast. “Jackalopes prowl those woods with hooded fangs and bone spears!”
GRRRRRRRR
What he had been tailing has turned around and now bares its teeth in a ferocious doggy snarl.
“HERE HE IS. HERE HE IS!” barks a frenzied collie. “I DON’T KNOW WHAT HE IS, BUT HERE HE IS!”
From further back in the woods Big Al can smell another human starting to run in his direction. He gives the dog a crocodile grimace, and with a snap and a subsequent burp of yellow and white fur, all is quiet.
The human nears, and Big Al decides to stand up. Humans can’t tell what he is if he is standing.
The person isn’t far off, and as soon as he sees Big Al, he stops right where he is.
“What the…”
The man is dressed nothing like the other humans Big Al has seen. This one smells like Raccoon on his head, Cow at his hip and Rabbit on the feet.
What an unusual human, thinks Big Al. Smells so tasty…
THUD
Something wiggles in the tree trunk very close to Big Al’s head. A few inches closer, and Big Al would have been dead.
“I KNEW I should have been practicing that! Someone git my Winchester! Someone git me my Winchester!” yells the man.
He makes a huge racket, and gives Big Al a look as mean as his own grimace. He makes a quick lunge, and Big Al backs away a little. For the first time in his life, Big Al is a little frightened. No smell comes from the human that gives Big Al the sense that Big Al is bigger or stronger, even though he is. This human adult can see him for what he is, and is therefore very dangerous. More dangerous than Big Al himself, and Big Al decides that if he wants to live, he needs to run.
“What is going on here?” calls Ms. Fast, running towards the woods.
Big Al gets back down to all fours and disappears into the bushes. It’s hard to move and not lose the hat, but he holds onto it and with a lopsided waddle, he runs away from them both. He crashes through the woods, running for his life.
“What is a crocodile doing wearing one of your dresses, Bella? That’s plumb dumb!” calls the man.
The driver to the truck slams the driver’s door closed and accidentally leans on the horn with a small BEEEP. The truck then starts up with a rumble, and Big Al sees his means of escape. The back door has been left up half-way.
He runs out of the woods between two sheds. He decides to stand and hold onto his hat as he pumps his short legs to catch the truck.
It begins to move, leaving the little village of three houses, a few sheds and a runway.
Big Al almost loses his purse as he flees across the landing strip. He huffs and he puffs as he runs faster than he ever has in life. Down through the ditch and up onto the dusty track he goes.
He matches pace with the slowly accelerating truck on the bumpy road, and for a brief moment, the truck slows as it shifts into the next gear. Big Al makes his leap and grabs onto the liftgate with his teeth. Drawing himself closer, he pumps his tiny legs, reaches out with his stubby arms and pulls himself inside the five ton.
Farthest away from the door lies a shadow that welcomes Big Al. It’s cool, dark, and a place that he can lie down for a while. His stomach still wants more, and the last appetizer only made his appetite even stronger. However, despite his belligerent belly beast, he knows that he must wait for now.
“Rrr…rrrrr….rrrrick.” He says, practicing how to speak like a human. He tries to remember all that has been said so far, and it’s hard, but he’s picked up a few basics. For the next while, he practices saying what he’s heard.
The truck rattles and bumps on the dirt road. The sun begins to set, painting the sky pink and red. A V-formation of geese honks its way through the clouds.
That night, for the first time, Big Al sees the endless depths of the starry night sky.
It isn’t like the swamp, where the sky was only ever directly overhead. Big Al holds onto the side and turns his head from the left all the way to the right, and all he can see are stars. Crystal clear, the night is an embrace in the darkness. He climbs onto the roof of the shifting, vibrating truck and stretches out, basking in the view.
Stinkwater was always hazy. This sky is something else.
Across the obsidian expanse, movement cuts across like a cat’s claw: twin stars streaking parallel from horizon to horizon.
The slow beat of big wings flaps through the night. At first, he hears it far off. Then silence. And suddenly he smells a bird standing on the back edge of the truck. The visitor’s silhouette cuts a mask in the star-field.
The size of a small elephant, this dark bird is unlike any he has ever seen. He knows it is not food, even though his stomach growls at the meat smell.
“Rrrr…rrrrr….rrRaven,” says Big Al.
“’Tis I, the bird of night, who has flown above both dark and light. Beware dear Crocodile, O creature of the Nile—slumberer from below, privy to backstage of the show. Know this: to be human is not only to speak or blend, but to read the letters and shape your own end. Literacy in all its forms is what humans wield to transform and to ascend. To interpret the ways, I suggest you lead with a smile. But do not let hunger be your guide, or your end will not be yours to decide.”
And having said its piece, the bird’s wings flap, and off it disappears back into the never-void.
Big Al blinks. Lit-rick-sy? What just happened? Am I lit?
If the Crocodile had ever had dreams, that’s what he would have thought it might be. But the lingering scent, and his stomach tells him that it was quite real.
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Chapter 6 audio drops September 20
Chapter 7 text drops September 27