Chapter Twenty-Three: The Cave

Arthur scrambled once more onto Titus’ back, and before he had seated himself firmly enough, Titus lowered his head and dropped silently along the face of the cliff.  His path followed a sharp curved arc toward the swirling and churning waves of the darkened sea and the sharp gray rocks below. At the last moment, the rook's wings stretched out wide and gave a strong flap, lifting them from the dive and depositing them firmly, but not too firmly, upon the rocky ledge just outside the hawks’ cave.

Arthur slipped silently from Titus’ back and the two exchanged glances as they stood facing the long corridor that sloped toward the hawks’ lair. They had just started toward the light slowly, quietly, when they heard a muffled crash behind them. Jack rolled into Arthur knocking him down, and Sigmund barely missed hopping right on top of them both as he descended from his wild dismount. By the time Arthur had dusted himself off and helped right Jack, the dull thumps had become a chorus, as animals and rooks landed as stealthily as they could in twos and threes on the lip of the cave. A squeak or two from the more relieved animals was the only sound that could have given away their approach, and they had neither seen nor heard any sign of the hawks.

The cave was not a hidden place. The hawks, after all, had no need to hide. There was scarcely an animal in the forest who was not familiar with this cliff and this cave, and there was scarcely an animal who didn’t know better than to stay far away. Those who ventured too close invariably became a hawk’s lunch.

But with Arthur and Titus in the lead, the animals of the Rookery had found a new courage, and that courage drove them to the place they had been warned to avoid for generations—all for the love of a human named Lily.

The small army of animals could not veil their approach to the heart of the cave for long, nor did they try. “Come, brothers,” Titus called. “We know that danger is ahead, but we mustn’t shrink back. Together we have done great things. Together we will do even greater things. Onward, for justice! For love! For Lily!”

“For Lily!” they cried together, and began their march down the long, sloping corridor.

The animals became more and more silent as they descended toward the light, which grew brighter as they drew nearer to the source. Though they passed numerous other corridors branching off in every direction (paths which did not lead, as this one surely did, into the heart of danger), the rescuers would not allow their growing fear to alter their course.

The going remained steady and the animals remained calm, until at last they heard a distant voice echoing from the walls of the cave: a faint, wordless cry of fear. It was Lily’s voice—unmistakable, even as it echoed off the walls and disappeared into the rumble of the waves crashing against the cliffs outside.

Lily’s cry pierced both Arthur’s and Titus’ hearts, and their slow, steady approach became a desperate sprint. The other animals trailed behind them as the two ran on ahead, descending ever deeper into the rocky cliffs. At last the corridor opened up and they nearly tumbled over one another as it gave way to a tremendous cavern. Even in his fear for Lily, Arthur gasped as he took in the entire room in an instant.

The cavern itself was oblong and angular, its walls meeting hundreds of feet above them in a single point, and etched into the once smooth walls were magnificent carvings depicting the heroic deeds of countless generations of hawks. Arthur was astonished by the hawks’ skill and attention to detail, but Lily’s cry of delight drove everything else from his mind.

At the farthest end of the cavern, Lily stood with her back against the stone wall. She was guarded by several hawks standing sternly in a semi-circle around her, preventing her escape. “Arthur! Titus!” she shouted from across the cave. “I knew you’d come! I just knew it!”

“Ah yes, we all knew you’d come,” a cold, threatening voice agreed from the firelit center of the room. Alistair stood firmly at the center of the cavern, his head held low, swaying menacingly.

“This is all very touching,” Alistair jeered. “It is unfortunate, then, that this little fairy tale won’t have a happy ending.”

Arthur and Titus stepped boldly into the light.

"It has been some time," he drawled on, "since any animal has dared set foot or claw into this, the most ancient place in the forest. It is a pity, really, for it may have served you creatures well to see the place where our great society of animals began. How little you understand your own story, you filthy creatures! Imagine, believing that life in the forest began with the Rookery! Bah! How very childish! It is fitting, then, that such a conflict as this—such a dramatic finale—should take place within these walls."

As Alistair spoke, the army of animals had crept in behind Arthur and Titus, so that by the time he had finished his speech, the whole of the Rookery stood before him. The hawk stopped speaking and looked intently at the creatures; they shuddered as his murderous eyes rested on them one by one. At last his gaze fell on Arthur who looked around cautiously before stepping forward, motioning for the others to stay behind. The mouse walked boldly toward Alistair, meeting the hawk in the center of the room, standing only inches from the enemy who towered over him by a great many lengths.

“The hawks are a great race indeed, Alistair,” Arthur said with the utmost sincerity. "We can all see your father’s deeds etched on your walls, as well as those of his father before him. What a grand history you hawks have!”

“It is grand indeed,” Alistair agreed, his pride swelling as he saw the wonder in Arthur’s eyes.

“I wonder, however...” and Arthur paused with a finger over his mousey lips, “Where are you? I don’t see you etched into the walls. Where are your great deeds? Your heroic exploits?”

"Ah, yes. Now the mouse understands..." conceded the hawk with a terrible sneer.

"Oh, Alistair, the mouse has understood for a very long time,” Arthur responded,. “I understand that you care nothing for honor or courage. Great deeds and heroism are nothing to you. You only care that your image ends up on these walls, and you have intended all along to use the destruction of the Rookery and the murder of the animals who live there as a means of making that happen! You have become so lost in the stories of the hawks’ greatness, that you don’t even care whether or not those stories are true. ”

"Is it wrong to seek greatness?" Alistair cried out, his booming voice resounding mightily throughout the chamber, causing the animals to flinch under the weight of his words.

"It is wrong," Arthur stated, as he stretched to his full height, "to seek greatness by doing harm, and under the pretense of a lie. That is not greatness at all! In all of these magnificent carvings, Alistair, I see not one other animal. I see only hawks. Not one of the forest’s other creatures appears in your history.”

“And what of it?" returned the hawk. "What have we lost by excluding the lesser animals, except weakness? Look at your little community—this pathetic band of four-legged vermin and weak-kneed birds—singing your little songs and puttering about as if the world were nothing but sunshine and happiness, refusing to admit to your pathetic weakness.”

“Weakness?" Arthur nearly shouted. "How, then, did we drive you from the Rookery this afternoon? How were you so soundly turned away if we are so terribly weak and you are so terribly strong? No, hawk, it is not we who have become weak. It is you!”

Suddenly a deafening screech echoed through the cavern, bouncing again and again from the walls. From a dimly lit corner of the cave, the elder hawk, who had been watching the proceedings carefully, reared up ferociously on his spindly legs and bore down on Arthur as his screech died away in the corridor.

"You will be silent, mouse!" he said. "What right have you to speak such words in the home of the hawks?"

"I will not be silent, you dreadful creature! Your empty threats and screechings mean nothing to me! You are the father of a dying flock! You hawks know nothing of goodness or rightness, and for that you will be put to shame! I offer you one chance for repentance: release Lily and we will go in peace. It is for you to decide."

"You will be silent or you will be forced into eternal silence!" the elder hawk hissed.

"And you will let the girl go! Or you will meet the same fate!" Arthur bellowed. The lesser hawks who surrounded Lily at the far end of the cavern cackled heartily at the mouse’s attempt to secure her release. But Alistair and the elder hawk recognized a ferocity in Arthur’s eyes that was not to be taken lightly.

Moments passed in silence, but Arthur stood his ground. A flutter to his right indicated the arrival of Titus who at that moment came to stand faithfully beside his friend. And a flutter to his left, accompanied by a gentle, “Hoot,” told Arthur that Jack had landed on his other side.

A dreadful moment of silence followed. Arthur, Titus, and Jack stared defiantly up at Alistair, who stared back, unflinching. A deadly, hungry sneer crept across his face, and Arthur knew the moment for action had come.

He dove at once to all fours, darting just beneath the powerful hawk, who could not react in time to stop him.

Everything else seemed to happen at once. Arthur’s sudden movement surprised the hawks and sent them into a great confusion. Alistair opened his beak and stretched his wings in hopes of catching the scurrying mouse, but as he did so he cried out in pain. Titus had taken to the air and plucked a bundle of feathers from atop the hawk's head before soaring to the uppermost parts of the cavern. Though he knew that he ought to go after the mouse, Alistair obeyed his instincts and pursued the rook instead.

Jack was certainly not to be outdone and immediately sped toward the hawks guarding Lily, hooting and pecking and flustering them so badly that for a moment they began fighting each other rather than him. The hawks found themselves at once out of control of the situation, as a hundred other animals—birds and bats and voles and mice and insects—swarmed in a great wave toward the confused predators. They scurried and flew and tumbled about the place as if they had just mounted a spectacular Tea Time. Then, just as the hawks reached the height of confusion, the animals began to bite, and poke, and nip the hawks so badly that they retreated into a corner just to get away from the tiny, menacing horde.

In the midst of all the chaos Arthur found it surprisingly easy to make his way unharmed to Lily, who grabbed him in both arms and squeezed him harder than she actually meant to.

"I just knew you'd come, Arthur! And look at everyone!" she smiled as she looked around. “Oh! I’m sorry!”

“That’s all right, dear,” Arthur coughed as she released her grip and his face turned back to its normal color. "But if our joy is to last, we must be off at once," he warned.

"Yes, of course!" she cried, quickly making for the nearest passageway from the chamber.

Arthur leapt at once in front of her, blocking her escape. "No, Lily. We don’t know where that tunnel leads. It is one thing to act bravely; it is another thing altogether to act with wisdom. The way to freedom leads through the battle tonight, not around it, I am afraid. Are you ready?”

“I am ready as long as you’re leading me, Arthur!” she smiled.

“Then come quickly, Lily!" he called as he led her with all the speed he could manage toward the true exit. He dodged in and out among the battling animals, as Lily ducked along behind, more than once swatting away the wings or claws of hawks who ventured too close. They passed through the danger in seconds and were at last freely in the cave that led toward the cliffs. They ran without slowing or stopping until they could see the faint outline of the cave’s mouth, and further still until they stood at last on the very lip of the opening, looking down the face of the cliff toward the sea.

Arthur gripped the edge of the cliff and looked down. "There is a path further down, near the sea," he said, his nose sticking over the edge, "but it will not be easy to reach. We must be careful, but we must be quick. We are not yet free from danger. Follow me."

Arthur turned and began to lower himself over the side of the ledge, grasping tiny cavities in the rock to steady himself. He had not yet disappeared from sight when his eyes suddenly grew wide with fear.  Lily turned to look, but had no time to react. Alistair was flying toward them at breakneck speed from deep within the cave—followed just as quickly by Titus, whose black eyes blazed with a fiery ferocity. Alistair dove just as he reached the lip of the cave and struck Arthur with his head, forcing him from the cliff and sending him tumbling helplessly toward the sea. Lily screamed and lurched toward the side. She watched, horrified, as Arthur slid roughly down the face of the cliff, then breathed deeply in relief as she saw him grab hold of an outcropping just before he fell all the way to the sea and to certain death. He did what he could to pull himself up, to climb back to where Lily stood exposed and vulnerable, but before he could move even an inch, the hawk had turned in his course and flew back to the cave’s mouth, where he landed heavily in front of Lily.

Lily found herself looking once more into those horrible eyes, but this time she was not alone, for Titus landed with a determined thud in front of her, bravely putting himself between her and danger. Though he seemed terribly small and weak compared to Alistair, his courage made him look much larger and more powerful than he actually was. Still, all the courage in the world could not stop the hawk’s hatred. He crept closer, his head bobbing slowly from side to side. He batted Titus away with an enormous claw, and as Titus tumbled into the corridor, Alistair unleashed a bone-chilling screech and sprang toward Lily.

Lily screamed wildly and pressed herself into the cliff face. She threw her arms in front of her face instinctively, but before she could close her eyes in defense, she saw a bright red blur streaking through the air before her. The fox’s bared teeth gleamed in the moonlight as he lunged toward Alistair. He growled wildly as his teeth found the evil bird’s wing, clenching harder and harder, until the sickening crack of breaking bones echoed off the cliffs.

"Go!" snarled the fox as he released the bird and dropped to the ground. His ears set back on his head, and his crooked tail stood tall in the air. "Go back into your cave and do not come out until you understand why you have been bitten!"

Alistair backed away from the mouth of the cave cradling his broken wing. He glared with pure hatred at the fox until a change came over his face—he glanced over the fox’s shoulder as a shadow fell across the corridor and terror shot through his eyes. With a yelp of mingled pain and fear, he turned and ran with all the speed he could muster back toward the cavern.

Lily’s heart pounded violently as if to make up for all the beats it had missed during the battle. The rescue had been almost miraculous, and yet she could not understand where the fox had come from or why Alistair had turned and fled so suddenly. But those questions were answered immediately by the warmth and familiarity of a strong hand upon her shoulder. She turned eagerly and drank in her beloved father’s face—the lines beneath his eyes, his perfect beard, and the special smile he reserved only for her.

“Father!” she cried, but she could say no more, because she was swept up into a strong, warm hug—the kind of hug she had almost forgotten—and she could do nothing but laugh, safe in the arms of her great protector.

The joyful reunion lasted only a moment, though. Lily wrenched herself from her father's embrace. "Wait!" she cried. "What about Arthur?"

She ran to the edge of the cliff and leaned far over, until she could see the waves crashing far below. Her father nimbly grabbed hold of her wrist—he did not pull her back, but protected her from falling as she searched for her friend.

Lily scoured the cliff face with her eyes, fear rising in her heart, when suddenly she heard a faint, “Over here!” to her right. Arthur was there, indeed, quite happily dangling just a few feet below the ledge.

“Arthur! Oh! I thought I had lost you!” she cried.

"Thank you for your concern, Lily," he called out, apparently untroubled by his precarious state, "but I'm quite fine. I am rather small, after all, and it takes very little effort to hang here. Please, I'll be up in just one moment. Don’t go to any trouble on my account.” And he resumed his ascent to the mouth of the cave as joyfully as if he had been on a mountain climbing holiday.

Lily returned to her father, to a reunion so joyous it could scarcely be diminished even by the present circumstances.  She wrapped her arms around his neck and nestled into his familiar beard. He held her tightly, and she couldn’t help but think that her dreams of their reunion paled in comparison to the joy of the actual moment.

The other animals presently began to appear from deep within the cave, tired and perhaps a bit injured, but otherwise no worse for the wear. The hawks had been beaten back, and upon hearing from Alistair that a hunter with a pistol stood at the cave’s entrance, they had surrendered unconditionally to Jack and begged the animals to leave.

“They won’t be carving this day’s achievements on those moldy old walls after all will they, mate?!” Sigmund shouted out to Jack, who hooted happily in agreement.

Lily looked away from her father for a moment, at the crowd of courageous creatures surrounding them. “It’s so wonderful that you get to be a part of my story, Father! I won’t have to write this part down at all!” she clapped gleefully. “There are so many animals for you to meet!”

“All in good time, Lily,” said her father warmly.

“At least you ought to meet Arthur, the bravest mouse,” she said, “and Titus, the rook who brought me into the forest in the first place—though you mustn’t be cross with him for encouraging me to disobey, Father. And you must meet the vole and the otters and the bats and the jackrabbit…” Lily was getting carried away, looking around at all of her new friends, until her eyes rested at last on the fox who had drifted to the side, cautiously out of the way.

“And the fox…” she said, quietly. “Look at his tail! I didn’t notice it before! Father…could it be…?”

“Yes, Lily. The same fox from so long ago. I didn’t know if you’d remember,” her father smiled.

“My name is Edward,” said the fox stepping shyly out of the shadows.

“I’ve seen you before,” said Lily, “around the Rookery.”

“Yes. And I’ve seen you many places besides, Lily,” he said with a bow.

“He’s been watching you, Lily, just as he watches over the other animals, though they cannot possibly know everything he does for them,” Captain Watson smiled. “I didn’t know that such a strong heart could beat inside such a small creature.”

“You sent the vole when Alistair found me alone in the wood,” Lily said softly, suddenly realizing so much. “You brought my father here.”

“And he borrowed Strathclyde’s spade to warn the animals that trouble was coming,” Captain Watson finished. “He’s a sly little fox, Lily—I suppose that’s where the saying comes from. But he’s got a valiant soul.”

“Indeed he does!” echoed Arthur, having just slipped silently over the edge.

“Just know, Edward,” said Lily’s father, “that there will always be room around our home for such an honorable animal as yourself. And that goes for each of you, of course.” He looked particularly toward Arthur as he said this. “You mustn’t be fearful about leaving the forest and venturing into our world. Just as, I suppose, we should not be afraid to come to you.”

“Hear, hear!” cried Titus, and the rest of the animals echoed their agreement.