Stitch's Arc

Chapter 3 of 5

Stitch heard the change before he saw it. The hunters stopped chasing the false signal. Their leader shouted, and the pack fanned out through the trees. No more single beeping trail. Now they hunted with eyes and boots. They swept the forest in a wide line, closing on the two of them. "They figured it out," Lilo whispered. She crouched beside Stitch under a fallen trunk. "The rock trick's dead. They know we're still here." Stitch clutched the chewed plush duck to his chest. His cousin had held this toy once. He would not lose it now. But hiding would fail. The line of hunters would reach them in minutes. Standing still meant capture. He needed to move, and he needed the hunters looking the wrong way. He scanned the ground. A soft shape lay in the leaves near a burrow. A lop-eared bunny, plump and still, its long ears drooped over the dirt. An idea snapped into place. Stitch grabbed the bunny and pushed it into Lilo's arms. "Wet trick," he said. "Small feet. Fast." Lilo understood. "You want them chasing an animal." Stitch nodded. He set the bunny down at the edge of the sweeping line. Then he stamped hard, snapped a branch, and threw a rock into the brush ahead of it. The bunny bolted. It crashed through the leaves, loud and quick, straight across the hunters' path. The nearest hunter swung toward the noise. "Movement," one barked. Three of them broke the line and charged after the sound. The clean sweep buckled. A gap opened where the three had stood. "Now," Stitch hissed. He pulled Lilo through the gap. They ran low, fast, feet quiet on the soft ground. Behind them the hunters cornered the bunny and found only a frightened animal. Shouts of anger rose. The leader called the line back together. But Stitch and Lilo were through. They slid down a bank and pressed into a dark cut between roots. The hunters' voices spread out again, farther now, searching the wrong stretch of forest. Lilo caught her breath. She still held the plush duck Stitch had passed her in the scramble. "We made it." Stitch took the duck back and held it tight. Then he froze. Through a break in the trees, he saw the clearing they had left. A second ship had landed beside the dark one. It was sleek and red, its nose sharp, its panels bright even in the gloom. More figures walked down its ramp. The hunters had called for help. One ship had become two. Stitch had broken the sweep, but the enemy had just doubled. He looked at the duck in his hands, then at the red ship filling the clearing. The coordinates in his head pointed one way. The new hunters pointed the same.