BONUS CLIVE CHAPTER
Alternative POV
I smelled the pie before sunrise. Head lifted from the patch of ferns where I’d spent the night, I scanned my surroundings. My nostrils flared. This was usually how trouble began.
As I moved slowly toward town, the noises of the humans got louder. The herd walking, doors slamming, and the shrieks of the tiny ones.
And something else.
Something special.
The even stronger scent of pie.
I stood on the crest of the hill, waiting for the wind to change.
Clive was always patient.
It was a virtue I possessed in abundance. Unlike the humans.
Soon, I sensed it. Butter. Blueberries and maple syrup.
Not normal pie.
Pie Witch had been busy.
Below, near the river, the humans kept up their noise-making. Banging and clanging and the growl of engines.
Good. Their herd must be gathering again. Humans loved this organized chaos as much as they liked that silly slop they called potato salad.
I let out a snort. I loved human gatherings.
So much chaos. And usually plenty of pie.
Tiny humans waddled around with sticky hands as bearded ones climbed ladders and then rewarded themselves with beer.
Clive didn’t like to intervene.
After many years, I’d learned that natural consequences were the best human teaching tools.
Sky Beard appeared in the crowd. He was the wildest of the Beard Brothers, and he frequently abandoned the ground to fly in metal birds in the sky. Impractical and downright dangerous.
But that was Sky Beard. He possessed excessive hair and remarkable confidence.
It was a shame he had no mate. But human women seemed too delicate for Sky Beard.
Except for Iron Woman. Perhaps she could handle him as a mate.
She walked through the forest with the confidence of a bull moose. The male humans feared her. Which was a healthy choice, as she possessed exceptional strength and little tolerance for incompetence.
The humans were endlessly entertaining. But observing them was not my goal today. No, today, the pie called.
I hadn’t seen the Pie Witch in many moons. She was a formidable foe. She had once hit me on the nose with a wooden spoon. It hurt and made me mad.
Sneaking beyond the tree line, I drew myself up to my full height and surveyed the town below. Colored tents and long tables and humans shuffling around. The sounds of music drifting through the trees. All signs of impending nonsense from the human herd.
She’d reveal herself eventually. Pie Witch did not walk in the shadows.
And reveal herself, she did. Her gray fur was piled high on her head, her blue ruffled apron of combat secure. As always, she was armed with her wooden spoon of vengeance. This insult would never be forgotten.
Pie Witch was not a regular human. She feared nothing. Not snowstorms, not tourists, and not moose. Our feud stretched back many winters now. She had overreacted to the pumpkin display incident with words and deeds of violence.
Then there was the window pie acquisition. It was merely an unfortunate miscommunication about resource allocation.
But Pie Witch disagreed. Pie Witch made threats to Clive’s life.
She walked with purpose, shouting at the beard men and carrying a tray.
My mouth watered. It was almost pie time.
My ears twitched. Today would be a good day.
Unless the humans were exploding the sky again.
Clive hated sky explosion day. It was nonsense. If one wished to establish territorial dominance, antlers were significantly more effective and far easier to maneuver.
Sky fire seemed like a lot of work.
Unconcerned for now, I made my way to the far stream. Best to hydrate before pie.
By the time I returned, the annual human frenzy had begun. Beard men competed in ritualized mating displays while smoke filled the air and the tiny humans made loud noises. They threw axes, lifted heavy objects, and removed their shirts with no warning. Poor judgment abounded.
As usual, this human herd was incapable of self-regulation.
But the chaos was in Clive’s favor. In the midst of the madness, no one was paying attention to the pies.
I meandered closer, assessing the way the humans were swatting a ball. They did this often; they liked to keep busy like that. As long as it didn’t hurt any forest creatures, I didn’t mind.
As I came upon the tents filled with moose sundries, I snorted. Hats and keychains and inflatables. Like the last, this human gathering displayed deeply inaccurate moose replicas. One tiny human wore a shirt with my face on it. It was unacceptable. The antlers were insultingly small.
Clive was already offended by humans’ lack of attention to detail. How difficult was it to capture the dignity of Clive?
The scent of pie gotten stronger. And then, there she was.
Pie Witch.
Screaming.
“Don’t you even think about it, you oversized asshole.” She waved her wooden spoon of vengeance around wildly.
Suddenly more yelling. Human noises and tiny feet moving.
Clive distracted.
Clive disoriented.
Clive briefly inconvenienced.
Worried, I took off running. But after only a few steps, the brightly colored webbing attacked me without warning. One antler was stuck as I pulled and pushed, working to break free.
Silly webbing was no match for my strength. With a hard yank of my neck, I reoriented toward the pies, dragging the webbing with me. This brief entanglement hardly delayed the pie acquisition. It had negligible tactical advantages; pity the humans decided to use it.
More screaming. Best to run quickly, secure the package, and leave.
The humans were deeply reactive to wildlife.
While most screamed and scattered, a few came closer, all holding the glowing rectangles.
Why did the rectangle people always fail to take cover?
Those with glowing rectangles in front of their faces tended to be the least intelligent members of the human herd.
No matter, they had cleared the way for my precious pie.
The table looked so pretty. With colors and flowers and more pies than I’d ever seen in one place.
Strawberry rhubarb, which was the inferior pie but still tasty in a pinch.
And the pièce de résistance: maple blueberry.
Dozens of them lined up with crisp crusts and bubbly, sticky filling.
Enough pie to justify extraordinary measures.
With the wind in my fur and the pride of my ancestors fueling me, I galloped toward the pies. The beautiful offerings from the forest gods.
Even as I ran, some humans failed to fear my majesty. The rectangle people seemed more concerned with capturing images of Clive than survival. Natural selection at work, I guessed.
As I reached the pies, Pie Witch was throwing utensils and other human bric-a-brac, but nothing could deter me.
Snout lowered, I inhaled the glorious scent, but just as I dove in to sample the pie, the table folded.
Pie Witch should have invested in more sturdy furniture to honor the pies.
Some launched into the air while others funneled into a neat pile at my feet, ready to be eaten.
The sweet tang hit my tongue, and I was in heaven. Yes, people were screaming and Pie Witch was unleashing a series of creative obscenities rarely heard outside mating season, but I had found the pies.
She whacked my flank with a long-handled cleaning implement, but she lacked the strength to inflict pain on me. It was annoying, mostly that the humans thought such a small weapon would stop me.
If this was all the magic Pie Witch could muster to save the pies, then she was not the worthy adversary I had once believed her to be.
After eating my fill, I took half of one in my mouth for later and wandered back to the forest. The beautiful grass was covered with trash and that webbing. The humans had left their stuff behind.
Typical humans. They never cleaned up after themselves. Always leaving garbage and food lying around and expecting other creatures to adapt. No wonder the females always looked tired.
I retreated home from there, satisfied by my successful quest.
Pie acquired.
Pie Witch vanquished.
Humans scattered.
All and all, a productive day.