The Wild Ones by C. Alexander London Page A

waiting for me to start our card game.”
    â€œWell, we don’t mean to keep your college waiting,” Kit said. “You see, we have an appointment to see the Rat King.”
    The owl hooted in surprise. “An appointment? Ha! An owl has stood sentry for the Rat King since this whole area was nothing but stone and beach, and in that time, there has not been one appointment!”
    â€œIf you’ll just check, sir . . . ,” Kit suggested.
    The owl blinked in annoyance, but one of his talons reached into the pocket of his suit jacket and produced a small scroll, which he proceeded to unfurl, letting it sail all the way to the ground. Kit noticed that the giant sheet of paper was completely blank, but for one line at the top. “And your name is?”
    â€œKit, sir. I believe a mouse made the appointment some time ago . . .”
    The owl’s eyes moved painfully slowly across the single line at the top of the scroll.
    â€œVery well,
Kit,
” the owl finally said. “A raccoon
does
have an appointment, although whether or not that raccoon is you is hard to say.”
    â€œIt’s me,” said Kit.
    â€œIt’s
I,
” corrected the owl. “You are the subject of the sentence, therefore you should use the subject pronoun
I
rather than the object pronoun
me.
”
    â€œYep,” said Kit. “If you say so. It’s I.”
    â€œI do say so.” The owl nodded, and Kit smiled. The owl had just agreed that Kit was the raccoon on the list.
    â€œSo?” asked Kit. “Since we agree I’m the raccoon on your list, can I go in now, please?”
    â€œWell . . .” The owl scratched his head with one talon, puzzled about how exactly he’d just agreed or what exactly he had agreed to. “You are perhaps a hundred seasons late, Kit.”
    â€œSorry, sir,” Kit apologized. “I couldn’t help it. I wasn’t born a hundred seasons ago.”
    â€œExcuses,” the owl grumbled, as he began rolling up his scroll. “But you two may enter. And bring your mouse friend. He thinks I don’t see him, but I certainly do.”
    Martyn slowly revealed himself from beneath a pile of bricks, looking bashful. He’d found a crumb from a Person’s lunch and was quietly munching on it.
    Kit’s stomach grumbled to remind him how hungry he still was.
    The owl, keen of hearing as well as sight, smirked and called out to Kit as he turned away. “You know, those friends of yours would make a fine snack for a growing lad like you. A lot of vitamins in a rodent.”
    Eeni squeaked, and Kit gasped.
    Where he was from, it was not polite to suggest eating one’s friends, and he assumed the same was true in the city. Beneath all their big words, owls were just big rude birds,and he was glad to put this one behind him, although he did understand that if the Rat King wanted to keep away trespassers, an owl at the gate was certainly an effective way to do it.
    Kit let Eeni and Martyn go under the fence ahead of him, both of them shuddering beneath the owl’s cold yellow stare.
    They scurried beside the pier and reached a crumbling wall with faded writing in the People’s language along the side of it. There were broken windows high in the brick at one end. The other end had collapsed and lay open to the sea, where all kinds of driftwood and flotsam had washed up into it.
    â€œWe’re here,” Martyn announced.
    â€œWhat is this place?” Kit asked.
    â€œThe People called it a public pool,” Martyn explained. “In the warm season, they would come here in special clothing and swim in a false lake they built inside, just beside the real ocean.”
    â€œThey built a false lake, right beside the ocean?” Kit couldn’t imagine why People would do such a thing, when they could swim in the ocean whenever they wanted. But perhaps, when you’ve covered the world in