Racum Raccoon's Arc

Chapter 3 of 4

Racum was cleaning wood shavings off the workbench when he heard the scratching at the door. Not a knock. Frantic claws against wood. He opened it to find Mad Dog Wolf standing in the doorway, sides heaving, eyes wild with something that wasn't hunger or anger but looked just as dangerous. Mad Dog pushed past him without asking and collapsed on the weathered log Racum used as a stool. His paws shook as he pulled a folded paper from his vest. "I need help," he said, voice cracking. "Not with math. With this." He spread the report card flat on the workbench. B plus. Math section. Racum stared at it, confused, until he saw Mad Dog's name at the top and the note scrawled at the bottom: "Excellent improvement. Your father will be so proud." The tightness started in Racum's chest. He wanted to grab the paper, march to Mad Dog's den in the rocks near the forest edge, fix whatever needed fixing. But Mad Dog wasn't asking him to fix anything. He was just sitting there, shoulders curved inward, staring at that B plus like it was a death sentence. "My father thinks I'm failing," Mad Dog whispered. "I told him I was. I needed him to stop expecting so much. But I wasn't failing. I've been lying for months." Racum sat down on the floor beside the log. His paws felt useless in his lap. He thought about his father's voice saying measure twice, cut once, thought about all the times he'd jumped in to build something before anyone asked. This wasn't a problem he could solve with his hands. "What do you need?" he asked, and the words came out slower than usual. Mad Dog looked at him, surprised, like he'd expected Racum to already be halfway out the door with a plan. "I don't know," Mad Dog said. "I just needed someone to know the truth." Racum nodded and stayed sitting. It hurt worse than hammering, this waiting, but he didn't move. For the first time, staying still felt like the right kind of help.