The Squirrel Squire, page 1
The Squirrel Squire
and the Tournament of Oaks
Erik DeLeo
Dark Cat Publishing
The Squirrel Squire
and the Tournament of Oaks
Publisher’s Cataloging-in-Publication Data
* * *
Names: Deleo, Erik, author.
Title: The Squirrel squire : and the Tournament of Oaks / Erik Deleo.
Series: A Fantastic Tails Adventure
Description: Los Angeles, CA: Dark Cat Publishing, 2018.
Summary: A small but brave squirrel must find a missing knight, or risk fighting in the Tournament of Oaks to avert disaster.
Identifiers: LCCN 2018914749 | ISBN 978-1-7335138-1-4 (Hardcover) | 978-1-7335138-0-7 (pbk.)
Subjects: LCSH Squirrels--Juvenile fiction. | Animals--Juvenile fiction. | Fantasy. | CYAC Squirrels. | Animals. | BISAC JUVENILE FICTION / Fantasy & Magic
Classification: LCC PZ7.1 D449 2018|DDC[Fic]--dc23
In memory of Lloyd Alexander and Brian Jacques, who created worlds I wanted to be a part of.
Bravery isn’t the lack of fear, but the ability to move forward in spite of it.
Anonymous
Contents
1. Late
2. Spar
3. Polish
4. Council
5. Tournament
6. Defeat
7. Lost
8. Signs
9. Search
10. High and Low
11. The Confined
12. Bodega
13. Argument
14. Reflection
15. The Great Tree
16. Duel
17. Up
18. Down
19. Celebration
Epilogue
Glossary
A Humble Request
Join My Mailing List
About the Author
Also by Erik DeLeo
Acknowledgments
1
Late
Puff was late. Again.
The small, gray squirrel scampered up the side of the Great Tree’s trunk and its bark of mottled whites, browns and greens. In the distance, a crow cawed. Puff, his cheeks stuffed full of precious cargo, was supposed to meet Sir Pattercloud here when the sun went down. Instead, he had gotten distracted by some very delicious looking acorns in the park and had been so focused on gathering them, that he lost track of time. The knight would not be happy. After all, despite his size, Puff was his squire.
Tomorrow would be a very important day, when the champions of the three squirrel clans would fight in the Tournament of Oaks. The contest would decide which clan would rule the park for the next set of seasons—a ritual that had been going on for generations, ever since Hecklestep the Great had united them.
Puff’s clan, the Grays, had ruled the park peacefully for most of his life. The even-tempered Browns just wanted to gather nuts and berries and such and raise their families in peace. Puff’s closest squirrel friend, Tinderbug, was a member of Clan Brown. But oh, the squirrels of Clan Black. They were never happy. Always scheming, hoarding, plotting. Their leader, Scratchclaw, was one of dark moods and foul tantrums. He was never happy and often accused the other clans of stealing and moving against them.
Most regular squirrels avoided the section of the park Clan Black inhabited, an area of overgrown shrubs, vines and weeds. Most squirrels, that is, except Puff. You see, there was a tree with the most delicious cherries he had ever tasted, and Puff couldn’t keep away. He had ventured into the Blacks’ territory more than a few times to enjoy such a tasty fruit. His curiosity was stronger than his fear.
Puff scrambled up the last few steps and got to the nook at the top of the main trunk, where the Great Tree split off into four main sections. Each of the three limbs symbolized one of the three main clans. The fourth, an old, rotting section, was rumored to represent an old clan that was no longer in the park. But it was only a rumor.
He hadn’t had time to bury his acorns beforehand, so Puff carefully spit each one out from his mouth into his little front paws. He piled them into a corner between the trunk and a branch, hoping they would be safe. Squirrels were known to take acorns that weren’t theirs because that’s just what some squirrels did.
“Running behind schedule, are we?” said a regal looking squirrel.
Puff looked down, embarrassed. Pattercloud towered over him, his light gray fur perfectly manicured. The much taller squirrel was dressed in fitted boots with a broadsword slung from his side. Truthseeker, the Greatsword of Clan Gray, was the Knight Captain’s weapon. Each champion wielded the Greatsword of their respective clan.
“I’m sorry, Sir Pattercloud,” Puff began, and then the words just tumbled out. “I got distracted and there were just so many acorns and I couldn’t stop, you should have seen them, and…”
“This is a common problem with you,” said the Knight Captain, disapprovingly. “If you want to be a knight someday, you’ll need to improve your focus. Except that’s not entirely true. You’ll need to improve your choices as to what you focus on, right?”
“Errrrm, yes sir,” responded Puff absentmindedly, taking a moment to peer out the corner of his eye to make sure his acorns were safe from other squirrels.
“Puff!”
The little squirrel immediately looked up. Sir Pattercloud rarely raised his voice.
“Yes?”
“What did I just say?”
“That, umm, sometimes, I umm…might not, you know…uh, I’m sorry, can you repeat what you said again?”
Sir Pattercloud let out a long sigh.
“How many acorns did you bring with you?”
“Five,” said Puff without a second of hesitation before realizing he had answered too quickly.
The Knight Captain shook his head and smiled.
“Don’t know when your lesson starts but know exactly how many acorns you have.” Sir Pattercloud paused for a moment. “You’re a good squirrel Puff, but, among other things, you have a lot to learn. Like how to determine what is most important. One thing you don’t need to learn is how to forage—I know of no one better at getting those cherries in the corner of the park than you.”
“You know about the cherries?” asked Puff, genuinely surprised.
The knight laughed, a wide smile causing his whiskers to pull back. Puff had always been secretive about his trips to gather his cherished red cherries.
“Besides protecting the interests of Clan Gray, my charge is to also look after you. I was once a young squirrel too, you know. I even got in trouble a time or two,” said the Knight Champion with what Puff swore was a mischievous grin.
“You did?” Puff had never imagined Sir Pattercloud getting into trouble.
“Yes, but that’s a tale for another time. Now, go get your weapon.”
Puff grabbed his sticksword, a twig big enough to fight with but safe enough for practice. He then gathered up his acorns, placed them carefully back in his mouth, and followed Sir Pattercloud down to the training area on the stump behind the Great Tree.
2
Spar
“Again,” said Sir Pattercloud.
They were only stickswords, but they still hurt when one hit you. The two squirrels had been sparring for a good bit, and Puff was panting from the effort. His chest hurt where Sir Pattercloud had stuck him multiple times.
“You have to keep your guard up, Puff,” continued Sir Pattercloud.
Puff would have kept his guard up if his arms weren’t so tired. He wondered if he should stop sneaking off and eating so many cherries.
“Sorry,” Puff replied meekly.
Sir Pattercloud lowered his sticksword and absentmindedly stroked his whiskers with his other hand, something the Knight Captain always did when he was thinking. He walked toward Puff and put his paw underneath his squire’s chin, lifting his head up.
“Look at me.”
Puff hesitated, but did as asked.
“You are a caring, noble squirrel,” Sir Pattercloud continued. “Remember when Old Lucy hurt her leg, and you collected acorns for her, so she would have enough to eat over the winter?”
“Well, no one should go hungry,” said Puff sheepishly.
“Precisely. You have a great heart, Puff. But I need you to focus. This training is important, because someday you will represent Clan Gray as their Knight Captain. Now, ready your sticksword!”
Puff straightened his helmet, which was made from a leaf wrapped with spider silk. Clan Gray had made a deal. In return for the promise of not disturbing their webs, the spiders graciously supplied silk to the squirrels. It was especially helpful at reinforcing the practice armor Puff wore.
The knight backed up a few paces and held his sword straight up. Puff did the same. He heard what Sir Pattercloud said, but he had his doubts. He didn’t want to let him down, but it was easy to see Puff was small, even for a young squirrel. He often wondered if he would big able to succeed his master.
“En garde.”
Sir Pattercloud came at Puff with a series of feints1, then slashed at Puff’s head. Puff parried2 with his sticksword, but was pushed back by the suddenness of the swing.
“Your rear paw work, Puff. Always remember your paws. Your stance is very important.”
Puff consistently had a hard time coordinating his front paws with his rear. Puff tried to push those doubts out of his head, so he focused on his rear paws. When he did, Puff’s sticksword was quickly knocked from his grasp.
“Don’t forget abou
There was a high-pitched chittering sound from nearby. Annoyed, Puff looked over to see his best non-squirrel friend laughing. Nibbles the chipmunk, or Nibs as her close friends called her, always reveled in Puff’s mistakes and misadventures. But he wouldn’t trade their friendship for anything. Besides, the chipmunk could carry more nuts in her mouth than any squirrel he knew, even more than his other best friend Tinderbug. Nibs was beyond helpful when gathering acorns. She and Puff often laughed at each other’s lighthearted misfortune, as all good friends should.
“Don’t let him get the best of you,” Nibs squeaked. “Sir Pattercloud deserves a good poke!”
“Shh,” said the knight. “Chipmunks shouldn’t interrupt a squirrel’s lessons.”
Nibs muttered something under her breath while Puff collected himself. This time, he decided to take the offensive. The small squire swung twice and Pattercloud parried, blocking each one effortlessly. Puff set his footwork for a lunge, but then brought his sticksword over the top in an unconventional move, although a little off balance. Sir Pattercloud, expecting the lunge, countered low. Puff caught his mentor in the shoulder but needed to swish his tail to keep from losing his balance. A look of surprise crossed the older squirrel’s face, quickly followed by a grin.
“Bravo, Puff! Bravo!” Sir Pattercloud exclaimed. “I always said there’s a solid nut between those two furry ears.”
Puff couldn’t hold back a smile.
“Now, don’t let that go to your head, mind you. But you’ve made a lot of progress as of late. That’s enough for today. Go say hello to your friend, and make sure you get my metal breastplate polished before you go to sleep tonight. The day after tomorrow is very important. I’m going to go home for a bit, then take a stroll.”
Sir Pattercloud left, whistling as he went. The knight always enjoyed going on long walks. Nibbles scampered up to the flat surface of the stump, looking around carefully for any signs of danger.
“I can’t believe you caught Sir Pattercloud on the shoulder like that! When are we going to get some acorns? You haven’t seen that cat around anywhere, have you?”
It was easy for chipmunks to start three conversations at once. Puff decided to answer the last question first.
“I haven’t seen the cat since a few days past,” said Puff, removing his helmet. He placed it on the ground next to his sticksword.
“That’s good. I was gathering nuts the other day, and I could swear he was salivating3 behind the window he always sits in.”
“Where were you gathering nuts?”
“At the end of the park, by the cluster of oaks.”
“Be careful Nibs. That cat is dangerous.”
“Oh, you don’t have to tell me about it. I know.” Nibs pointed to the spot where a piece of her ear was missing.
“Well, there’s no cat around now,” observed Puff.
“Perfect! Let’s go grab some acorns.”
“Ok, but I can’t be long. Sir Pattercloud won’t be happy with me if his armor isn’t shiny enough. It needs to gleam.”
The pair bounded off, eager to start their search. And, not for the first time, Puff had already forgotten about the sparring gear he had left behind.
3
Polish
Puff took a break. He had been vigorously scrubbing Sir Pattercloud’s armor, but his arms were tired and his belly was full. Too full. He had eaten a lot of acorns when he was out with Nibs, and now his stomach hurt.
Sir Pattercloud’s home was nice—much nicer than most squirrels’ homes. It had a foyer, a grand living room, and even a formal fireplace. Puff had spent a lot of time here, especially after the long, cold winter that claimed his parents a few seasons past. The warmth of this place had filled the void left by their absence.
On the mantle were all the trophies Sir Pattercloud had won over the years, including the Golden Acorn from the Tournament of Oaks. It had been years since he had been defeated in combat, and with a few more victories, he’d be the most decorated champion in Clan Gray’s history. Puff thought about that…being champion. It seemed like such a foreign idea to him. Oh, he’d catch Pattercloud now and again with a sticksword, but that wasn’t a real sword and it certainly wasn’t real combat. Puff was merely a squire. Daydreaming was one thing, but he had a long way to go and a long way to grow before he could even think seriously about being a champion.
Truthseeker, the real sword, was proudly displayed and hung above the trophies. It was one of the three squirrel Greatswords. When each clan had won their independence, the swords had been forged together in a great fire using metal from their defeated enemies’ weapons. Puff looked up at it admiringly.
There was a knock on the door, and it creaked open slightly.
“Hello?” called out a familiar voice.
“Come in, Tinderbug. It’s just me. Sir Pattercloud has gone out for a walk.”
Tinderbug snuck her mostly brown head inside, making sure it was only Puff. Then she squeezed herself between the doorframe and the door and closed it behind her.
“Whatcha doin?” asked Tinderbug inquisitively.
“Polishing armor and digesting acorns. More of the latter, actually,” replied Puff, being honest. “Nibs and I ate too much. What are you doing here?”
“Just checking up on you before the big festivities start tomorrow.”
“Oh, I’m fine. I don’t have to fight.”
“Well, someday you will.”
“Maybe. I mean, I have to grow some first. And practice more.”
“A lot more practice,” agreed Tinderbug. Then she followed her answer up with a question Puff wasn’t anticipating. “Do you ever get scared?”
“Of what?”
“Fighting.”
“I try not to think too much about it,” Puff replied dismissively1. It was also a lie.
“So you’re sitting here polishing Sir Pattercloud’s armor and not thinking about ever having to be a knight someday?”
“Yeah, something like that.”
Tinderbug seemed unconvinced.
“I don’t believe you. I mean, we’re pretty good friends, Puff.”
“Only pretty good?”
“Okay. Really good. And really good friends always tell each other the truth, right?”
“They’re supposed to, I guess.”
“Well, I was just wondering if fighting crosses your mind. Because if it were me, it would. A lot.”
Puff sat up.
“You want me to be really honest?” Tinderbug nodded affirmatively. “Okay. I think about it all the time. Over and over. I know Pattercloud says he believes in me, but sometimes…I don’t know. I mean, I practice hard and I’m getting better at swordplay. So that’s something, I guess.”
“That is something,” agreed Tinderbug.
Puff was a full head shorter than Tinderbug, but she had never directly asked him about his size before. She could sense his discomfort, and decided to change the subject.
“What do you think about Scratchclaw fighting this year?”
“I think it’s weird.”
“How so?”
“Well, he’s never fought before. No clan leader has ever fought before.”
“Well, truth be told, Crinklehat would make a terrible Knight Champion. He can barely stand, even with his twigstaff.”
Puff laughed. The leader of Clan Gray was indeed old and couldn’t hold a proper sword.
“Rustleleaf wouldn’t fare much better,” countered Puff, mentioning the leader of Clan Brown. Tinderbug nodded in agreement. “Which is why I think it’s odd that Scratchclaw has a sudden interest in fighting.”
