The Prince Who Fell From the Sky by John Claude Bemis

gave me the extra moment I needed to reach the cub in time. And maybe it was what led the cub to us. If the sky is the cub’s true home, maybe the piece in his screen watches over him. It might have drawn us to him, so we could guard over him and keep him from harm.”
    “A piece of the sky,” Dumpster scoffed. “You have some funny notions, birdbrain.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN
    P ang anxiously sniffed all morning as they journeyed. When they stopped in the shade of a crumbling overpass, he approached Casseomae. “I smell wolves. We need to leave the highway.”
    Dumpster shot toward him, trembling with fury. “But my mischief—”
    A scent hit Casseomae’s nose, and she reared up on her hind legs. The cub jumped to his feet in alarm and clutched her sides. The dog circled, looking around with his one ear alert. “What is it?”
    Down the highway, from around a cluster of cars, a wolf appeared.
    Dumpster leaped to Casseomae’s back and scrambled up to her head, squeaking, “Go! Go!”
    The child chirped wildly, but she nudged him into action. “Run, cub, before he calls his pack.”
    Pang led them from the highway, into the thick of the Forest, as the wolf’s howl rang through the trees. “Where can we go?” she growled at the dog.
    “I don’t know,” he said. “Just keep moving.”
    They tore through the underbrush and around trunks and saplings. “Is he following us?” Casseomae asked Dumpster.
    “I don’t see him.” But no sooner had he said this than a series of barks answered the wolf’s call. “That’s a pack!” he squeaked, digging his claws into her scalp.
    The child stumbled on a root and lay panting on the leaves, clutching his foot.
    “Get up, cub,” Casseomae said, nosing him under his ribs. She looked back anxiously. The wolves weren’t yet in view, but they had their scent. It would only be moments before they arrived.
    Casseomae dug her snout under the cub’s frame until she forced him to his feet. “Listen, cub. I’ve got to carry you.” She dropped flat and gestured with her nose toward her back.
    The cub hesitated, then flung himself onto her back, grabbing at the thick folds of fat and fur around her throat. Casseomae sprang to her feet and dashed after the dog.
    Pang flew over a log, gaining ground ahead of Casseomae. “I see something,” he called.
    A few strides more and Casseomae saw it too. A huge relic lay wedged between the trunks of some twisted maples.
    “A passering,” Dumpster said. “Get inside it!”
    “But—” Casseomae began, knowing they’d only be trapped.
    “Just do it,” the rat ordered. “Before they see us.”
    The dog waited by the base of the relic. Casseomae passed him, bounding onto the wing. Dumpster leaped from her head and scampered through a broken window. The child slid from her back and tugged at the side of the passering. A crack appeared. Casseomae dug her claws around the edge and pried it open like a mussel shell.
    The dog scrambled up onto the wing, his claws scrapping on the rust as he fled through the opening after the child. Once Casseomae was inside, the cub pulled the panel shut.
    The light coming through the grimy windows was dim. “Is this what the pup came down in?” Pang asked, panting heavily on the mossy floor beside the child.
    “No,” Dumpster said. “This is an old one. Probably from before the Turning.”
    Barks grew louder and then Casseomae could hear the wolves surrounding the passering. “In there,” onecried. “Look for a way in.” A clattering of nails sounded on the wing outside followed by sniffs at the closed door.
    The child clung to Casseomae’s fur. A wolf scratched ferociously, trying to dig open the metal door. They couldn’t open it, she was certain. Wolves couldn’t use their forepaws like she and the cub could. But then a black nose wedged through the broken window where Dumpster had entered. Casseomae leaped up and raked her claws against it, sending the wolf whining back down the