Hoggish's Arc

Chapter 1 of 7

Hoggish wanted to be the best rapper alive, and today the swamp had swallowed his stage. He was tall and thin, a Sasquatch in a dark green jumpsuit and clean sneakers. He rapped to the trees while he searched for a mythical golden microphone. Now brown water covered the only dry path forward, and his rhymes bounced back to nobody. He stood on a shrinking patch of mud. His pet padded beside him, a chihuahua with lizard scales and a gold chain that swung when it shivered. The little bone pendant tapped against its chest. "Easy," Hoggish said. "I'll get us across." He scanned the water. Vines hung thick above the flood, and gold coins sprouted from their leaves. He grabbed one vine and pulled. It held. He swung out over the water, boots skimming the surface, and landed hard on a mossy log. The chihuahua leaped after him and clung to his shoulder. The log rolled. Hoggish slipped and dropped his whole verse into the muck. His hand hit something soft and floating. A green teddy bear bobbed there, wearing two huge red boots. The boots kept it high on the water like a tiny raft. Hoggish stared. "Those boots float." He grabbed the bear and set the chihuahua on its belly. The red boots held the small weight up. Then he shoved off, kicking hard, using the floating bear as a pull-line while he swam. His voice came back strong now, low and steady, a rhythm that matched each kick. Halfway across, the current grabbed him. It dragged him toward a black gap where the swamp poured into a deeper hole. Hoggish reached for another coin vine and missed. He reached again. His fingers closed on gold and green, and the vine snapped tight. He hauled himself and the floating bear up the far bank. Mud sucked at his sneakers. He rolled onto solid ground and lay there, breathing. The chihuahua shook water off its scales and licked his cheek. Hoggish had crossed. The dry path forward was gone for good, drowned behind him. He could not go back the way he came. He stood and wrung out his jumpsuit. Ahead, the ground rose into overgrown hills he had never seen. Something metal glinted between two trees. He walked closer and stopped. A blade stood upright in the dirt. Its point sank deep into the soil, but its top was no ordinary hilt. A silver microphone head crowned the weapon, mesh shining under the leaves. It looked like a sword and a mic fused into one. Hoggish's heart pounded. This was not the golden microphone. But it was close, and it was calling him deeper into strange country. He tucked the floating bear under his arm, whistled for his pet, and walked toward the blade.