The Black Squirrel

1. Morden's Gift

Long ago, squirrels lived in the magical kingdom of Reflector. In this kingdom, squirrels had decorated the hills to their heart’s content. There were acorn shrubs, acorn houses, and best of all, the beautiful acorn fountains in the town squares. Squirrels of all sizes could be seen running around and generally causing mischief. And far, far down the winding road (well, far for a squirrel, anyway), lived the King and Queen in their splendor. The King always wore a green felt cap the squirrels had divested from a human, while the Queen decorated her head with a fetching bundle of scarecrow hay.

In the noble houses of Reflector lived a pair of brothers. One was Alvin and the other was Morden. Alvin was the older brother. From the time he was young, Alvin had shown immense prowess in high jumps and locating acorns in the soil. He was the apple of their father’s eyes. Coincidentally, he had a brown stripe on his back.

Morden… Morden was different. Morden, according to their mother, “skulked around” the house. Instead of familiarizing himself with the roads of the kingdom, a exercise to prepare young squirrels for the Overland, he could frequently be found staring into the depths of their firepit, or peering intensely at a rain puddle left in the early morning light. Rarely did one hear his chitter or even the primal yell squirrels used to defend themselves against predators. He barely talked, but they knew he was no fool. Tell him something once and he could master it. Coincidentally, he had a black stripe on his back.

The time of Choosing was near. When a noble son of the four Reflector houses was chosen, he could become a spearman, a bowman, or a thief.

Already all knew Alvin would be spearman. There was even talk about instituting him the youngest warrior in the history of Reflector.

“But what will Morden be?” their mother said in a low tone one night.

The father snorted. “Forget about Morden,” he said dismissively.

“But remember the one time we gave him a crossbow? He hit the apple a hundred meters away!”

“An accident.”

“Once he became curious about the little flimsy wood things humans carry around. Books? He infiltrated the dome where they store all their books. And he got the one he was looking for! He’s very good at theft.”

The father said what the mother left unsaid. “But he wouldn’t be a good thief. He can do all these things once. Then, he’s idle again. He’s not consistent. What’s worrisome isn’t even his consistency. It’s his… attitude. He doesn’t have the soldierly attitude. A soldier does what he’s told, without thinking. He,” the father stabbed at the corn remoulade, cheeks bulging with his forkful, “thinks too much. That’s his damn problem.”

The mother folded her hands. Morden was going to be the bane of her existence. Their family was poised to be the King’s favorite due to Alvin, but if Morden couldn’t even get Chosen, forget about honors — it would scorch black the entire line. Forever.

Her vision of being one of the Queen’s aides, gowned in a frilly white frock, spending her days collecting dew from roses among elegant and refined ladies, was quickly vanishing before her eyes…

“NO!” she roared.

The father, who had been nodding off, started and stared dumbly at his wife.

She seemed charged by an inner fire. “I’m going to make him Chosen… no matter what it takes,” she growled.

xxx

While his parents were heatedly discussing his future, Morden was napping.

One day while prowling around Reflector he had been inspecting the moss around the fountain in the town square.

He couldn’t put his finger on it, but something seemed wrong about the moss. After staring at it for a few hours, he realized why.

It was a perfect square.

He knew the shape “square” from the books he had stolen from aboveground.

Although no one had ever taught him this, Morden had observed that shapes in nature were not like the shapes described in these books. Therefore, that moss was not natural.

In the dead of night, he scampered out to the moss square and pushed it.

A latch! He pushed harder and tumbled headfirst into the tunnel.

He had arrived in what seemed to be a cozy den for one. There were sconces, and more books! In fact, this squirrel had ingeniously created vertical space for several books using a twig structure. Morden nodded.

He had been looking for a place to nap. He hid this from his family, for reasons he couldn’t quite explain to himself. After leaving the house, he would start to steadily lose energy. No other squirrels seemed to lose energy just by leaving the house, but he did. To hide what was happening to him, he would stop what he was doing, sit down, and stare at an interesting cloud or leaf. Studying clouds and leaves never made him tired. Talking to other squirrels, and being outside in their presence, did.

This would become his new hollow. He curled up and readied himself for a good nights’ rest. The open latch let in soothing moonlight. No town squirrel would be able to see him now.

Unbeknownst to him, two yellow eyes peered at him from afar.

When Morden arrived home next day, his mother was waiting for him. She was dressed in a clunky helmet. Morden stared.

“En guarde!” she yelled, and pounced on his toe.

Morden somersaulted back. “What?”

“Ha! Ha!” She aimed at his right flank and then his left. Morden picked up a twig and parried both.

After about four hours of this Morden was exhausted. He had fenced well, superbly, as a matter of fact, but he knew he was not going to be able to match this performance in the next few days.

Hiding his exhaustion with sarcasm, he said, “Had enough fun for today?”

His mother scratched her chin. “It looks like you’ve done well. Yes, you may go and rest.”

Morden gratefully scampered away to his hollow to nap.

However, the next day was quite different.

“Ha! Ha!” She went, again, after his right and left flank. This time Morden was not able to defend.

“What’s wrong with you today?” She frowned. “Your father was right. You are too inconsistent. Well, that’s just something I’m going to have to train you to get better at!”

Morden was able to score a couple of hits that day, but it couldn’t be compared to the dozens he scored previously.

Everyday at sunup his mother would rise him, and they would spar until the sun hit its zenith in the sky. Most days Morden just didn’t have the energy. When he did, he would score fabulous hits. But when he didn’t, he fenced like a novice.

Morden’s mother sank down at the kitchen chair late one night. The fireflies were out. Four months had passed since she had begun her training regimen.

“I just don’t know what to do,” she wailed to her husband. “On his top days, his strategy and agility are excellent. No — not just excellent — they’re better than his brother’s! But then… he loses energy and fights horribly for the next few days.”

“I’m telling you, just give up on him. He was born that day.”

“I can’t give up on him. I won’t.” She shook her head stubbornly. In her paws were an apple she’d just finished peeling. She set it gently on the kitchen table and then chopped it furiously. The seeds in the core gave her an idea.

“What if…” she said quietly, “we called in Lapitu?”

“Lapitu? The witch doctor?”

“Yes. A doctor. A doctor can fix him.” She stared at the seeds as though trying to burn a hole with her eyes. “He can cure Morden!”

xxx

The next day the mother was putting on her slippers when she called out, “Morden!”

She heard the pitter patter of squirrel steps on the stairs. But it was Alvin.

“Alvin, where’s Morden?”

Alvin snorted. “Probably off to his little hidey-hole.”

“Hidey-hole?”

“Yeah, he’s got a place in town he runs off to whenever he’s upset. Loser.” Alvin sniggered.

“Can you get him? Lapitu’s about to arrive.”

A menacing grin spread across Alvin’s face. “Sure, I can get him.” On his way out the door, he slipped a slingshot and some pebbles into his pocket.

Morden was sure going to get a surprise! He’d always been snotty to Alvin. Despite the fact that their father liked Alvin better, Morden continued to act all uppity. Well, not anymore. He stood in front of the mossy latch to Morden’s den and grinned. The pebbles he had in his pocket were no ordinary pebbles.

Once when he’d been chasing some birds around, he’d stumbled on a field of rocks. Then a little human kid went up to it with a hammer. When he struck the rock, it rang out with a loud and pure sound. So Alvin had stolen some of these “ringing rocks,” as he called them, with the express purpose of humiliating his little brother one day. And now that day had come.

He was so jubilant with his plan that when he wound up his slingshot, he didn’t even notice the flapping of wings behind him. He was completely unprepared when a great feathered blow hit his head from behind. Alvin’s mouth made an “O” and then he collapsed.

The noises from the square woke up Morden. Sleepily he made his way out of the hollow. When he saw his brother lying splat on the ground, he smirked. Little did Alvin know most of his “friends” actually hated him. Morden simply assumed it was one of them taking revenge on Alvin. He stepped over Alvin, whistling, as he made his way back to the house.

xxx

“Please, doctor! Can you figure out what’s wrong with Morden?” His mother was pleading the witch doctor, who was just a rat dressed up in silly tiki ornaments. Morden rolled his eyes.

Lapitu made Morden contort his body in all sorts of poses. First, he hung upside down from a hook like a bat, and Lapitu measured his heart rate. Than, Lapitu made Morden spread out his front paws like a crane, while Lapitu tapped his knee to try to make him fall.

Finally, the rat announced gravely, “Your son has a serious problem.” That might’ve worked better if he didn’t squeak, thought Morden.

Lapitu continued, “He can never be like the other squirrels. Generally, squirrels work for a full day, and rest for a full night. But Morden’s energy is too low. He is always fatigued. Some of the cases I’ve seen are more serious than his. Despite this, I don’t think he is physically or mentally fit to be a Chosen. Or even for a job.”

His mother looked like she was about to tear her fur out. But Lapitu continued, “However! There may be a way to fix him. My cure would be… well, let’s see… a paste of apple seeds!”

His mother seemed to recover. “That’s it?”

Lapitu coughed. “Well… a paste of 70 apple seeds a day… should do it!”

“But that’s enormously expensive!”

“Such a terrible condition as your son’s isn’t easily treated, I’m afraid. Now… check or cash?”

Morden couldn’t take any more of this. He broke out of his mother’s hold and ran off to his den to think about everything that happened some more.

So is it true? he asked himself. Could there actually be something biologically wrong with me? Should I actually try to take this cure?

Normally, he had high self-esteem. However, the past four months had been the first time he’d tried to subject himself to a standardized daily regimen. The fact that it hadn’t led to any improvement in his energy levels bothered him.

His mother’s constantly disappointed expression didn’t help either. While Morden knew his mother was motivated primarily by status, he also saw a faint spark of love and concern in her, and this very faint spark generated similar feelings in him as well.

So lost in his thoughts was Morden that he ran into a wall. Blinking, his eyes focused again and he realized it was Alvin. A very enraged Alvin.

“So you thought you could get away, you good for nothing punk, did ya?” his older brother spat in his face. “You’ll NEVER be like me! Not even close! Me and dad, we’re different squirrels from you! We’re like the rest. You’re… you’re abnormal! A freak!”

Their fight was drawing attention at midday. Cobblers, pie-bakers, and all manner of squirrelfolk paused their tasks and whispered about the two brothers.

“You don’t even like being around others, do ya? You can’t stand it! That’s why you go into that hidey-hole! When you grow up, you’re gonna be a burden to mom and dad! You’ll be just like these homeless squirrels in the Overland, except that you actually had the money and talent to be something else — you just chose to DO NOTHING!” Alvin finished his speech with a savage sneer and released Morden by the cuff.

Morden was panicking. He couldn’t access his den now, with everyone watching. He wanted to make a smart comeback but he was just too tired and overwhelmed by all the events. He turned and ran.

“Yeah! Run away! Run!” Alvin hooted.

xxx

Morden had ended up by an ancient oak tree. He was no longer in Reflector. Here the forest began.

He was splayed on his back, seeing the leaves and the clouds. But not even the shapes of the leaves and the clouds could bring him peace anymore.

“What if they’re right?” he thought. “If I can’t make it as a Chosen, what’s there for me? Nothing really. Either I stay at home and they keep feeding me, or I go out and I guess I join the homeless in the Overland.”

In despair he shut his eyes.

“Hey. Hey, you.”

Morden opened his eyes. Baffled, he saw an owl befre him.

“Yeah, you.”

The owl bounced nimbly from the branch to Morden’s eye level. “I been watchin ya for some time. You’re having some trouble, ain’tcha?”

“Guess you could say that.”

The owl rotated her head 90 degrees. “You don’t believe your family, do ya?”

Morden exhaled. “I’m not really sure what to believe right now.”

The owl hooted. Morden stared. He’d heard of owl “hoots” but he hadn’t realized they actually laughed with that sound.

When the owl was done, she said merrily, “A black squirrel who doesn’t even know it’s black!”

“What do you mean?” Morden’s earlier mood lifted, as it always did whenever he had a new puzzle to solve.

The owl pointed to her own back. “You gotta black stripe, don’tcha?”

“Well, yeah. Doesn’t mean anything though.”

The owl hooted again. “It means everything.” It paused, as though considering where to start. “Did you know, a long time ago, there were four Chosen paths?”

“Four?” asked Morden.

“Of course. Haven’t you noticed? Reflector is planned as a city of fourths. The town fountain leads out in four paths, in the four directions. The King and the Queen always have a son and a daughter. A family of four. A city of four.”

Morden thought. “What was the fourth path?”

“The fourth path was Mage. Councilor to the Royal family. The greatest position of all! Only the wisest would be selected. They would refine their great inner power, and help lead the kingdom to peace. Nothing like these silly warriors,” snorted the owl.

Morden brought his paw to his face. “Are you saying… I have the potential to be a mage?”

“The potential!” the owl squawked. She flew around him. “Boy, you’re already a mage.”

“I am?”

The owl’s eyes crinkled. It looked like she was smiling.

“As soon as you opened the door to the fountain, I knew,” she said simply.

“But they keep saying… I have a problem. I need to be fixed,” said Morden.

The owl sighed. “Guess I’m gonna hafta explain everything about black squirrels to ya.” It pointed to the north, where there was an ocean. “Ever heard the saying… Don’t compare a fish to a bird?”

“You know that most squirrels think the color of your stripe doesn’t mean anything, right? We’re comparing squirrels to squirrels. Not a fish to a bird.”

“Well, black squirrels are ‘bout as different from brown squirrels as a fish to a bird. They got different potentials. Different cycles.” She stared at Morden.

“So ya noticed your energy cycles are different. That’s correct. A brown squirrel’s got a 24 hours, 7 day energy cycle. And cus most of the population are brown squirrels, your calendar was created around brown squirrels. Rule of majority, and all that.”

She waved a wing dismissively.

“But what we know — what everyone knew, back then — was that black squirrels have a much shorter energy cycle. To others, it looks like ya get tired out easily. Looks like you don’t have energy at all. That’s not the case. You might be on a 4 hour energy cycle, for instance. And when you peak, you really peak! You’re better than ten brown squirrels at once. Then your energy falls. But that’s just natural. Ya don’t hafta do anything about that. See, that’s the way you were born. No disease. No condition.”

The leaves were slowly falling all around them.

“I think I accepted that as natural, before,” said Morden slowly. “Before my mom kept saying it was wrong.”

“Your rhythm is totally different. Just like how groundhogs gotta rhythm. Brown bears gotta rhythm. They gotta hibernate for the whole winter. Not only is your rhythm different, your powers and your abilities are different, too. Ever hear why our city’s called Reflector?”

“No,” said Morden, who was now much more lively. These were the type of questions he’d always pondered alone, but which no one else had ever been interested in discussing.

“Cus, ya see… This city was built by a mage. And the mage had thought long and hard about the essence of his power. And in the end, he described his power as… a reflection. Reflecting the power of nature. Back when there were a lot more black squirrels down here, they helped make the houses… the roads… the fountain… they didn’t do any of the heavy lifting. They planned it. They were called architects.”

“Architects,” said Morden, trying out the word.

“Yeah… discovering the structures of nature, and then using it. But that’s not all. See… every species got their own version of a ‘mage.’ Every species is divided by brown and black squirrels… and there are always fewer of the black squirrels. But I heard in some… some have been able to harness the power of the moon. Reflector… is a nod to that dormant ability.”

“What do I do now? How do I get them to choose me as a mage?”

The owl smiled down at Morden. “I’m the mage selector. There hasn’t been one in centuries down here. That’s why your parents had no clue. I’ll be at your choosing. In the meantime, Morden… practice your gifts. Continue to study the world. And don’t listen to the squirrels… who don’t know nothing.” The owl flapped her wings and a powerful updraft carried her away.

“I’m going to be… a mage.” And the young squirrel, who had only a few hours ago wondered if its future would come to anything, now began its exciting adventure through life in earnest.

Next Chapter: 2. Morden's Pride

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