Merciville's tree

This short story was orginally intended for a competition on "Tree Photo Challenge".  I suspect I didn't get the entry in, in time for judging. 

Hope you enjoy....

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            Merciville stopped and looked around him.  His heart was pounding beneath the clammy fur on his chest.  Was this at all possible?  Never in his entire life had he expected something like this to happen.  It was just not possible, did they not know who he was?  Merciville the sixteen.  Did they not realise that he was a mere sixteen Merciville's away from Merciville the first.  Merciville the great.  The one and only.  The one that had led the great journey across the dreaded dark vastness.

            Shivering, Merciville, lifted his frozen bottom off the snow and blew some heated air through it.  Pulling a snarled expression, he felt the snow move a little beneath him.  Settling back onto the snow, he looked back over his shoulder in the direction that the first Merciville had first come.  A river of large mechanical blocks growled up and down the hard blackened earth.  An island of snow crested grass managed to survive between the two thick rivers.  Beyond the black river of movement, Merciville could see the large thick square blocks that his enemy lived in.  That was their trees that they carved their holes into.  Even now, as he watched, he could vaguely see a gathering of the enemy on the furthest shore of the black river.  Gods of tall thin lights controlled the flow of the mechanical river.  Changing between different colours, they cast their memorising spell over their simple followers. 

            Shuddering, Merciville turned and looked back at the scene in front of him.  His house, his loving hole that had been passed through the family from the first Merciville born to the next.   Now it was being used by a feathered creature.  Walking around on the snow capped branch, that led to the lower parts of his house, the creature stopped.  Craning its head forward, with its body following it, snaking forward, the creature studied the snow covered ground, looking for him.  Merciville knew that it wouldn't take long for the creature to spot him, lifting itself off the branch and rising into the cold air, soaring higher and higher into the clear skies before turning on itself and diving with great speed to the earth below.  Merciville would instantly become the last in the line of great Mercivilles.  He knew this in his heart.  The story of the feathered creature had been told many a night as the little ones gathered to learn.  Merciville in his corner, drowsy and yearning for sleep. 

            Anger tremored through the little muscles of his body.  Anger screamed along his veins.  Anger dribbled out the corner of his squirrelly mouth.  Desperately trying to ignore the nervous tic in his right eye, Merciville's eyes darted to the other homes in the snowy park.  With almost every tree in the park having a home dug into them, Merciville was still at a loss as to why no-one would open their hearts to him.  Nerves worked at his stomach, churning away at the acids and the earlier breakfast.  Without turning his little head to look behind him, he knew that the thin coloured gods and cast the colour change and halted the flow of the mechanical river.  From the squeals, he knew that the enemy was approaching. 

            The feathered creature flicked its tail from side to side before dropping a darkened package down onto the snow on the ground.  From where Merciville was crouched, he could distinctly hear the wet substance smacking into the snow.  Being caught by surprise, he didn't have a chance to lift himself off the snow.  Warm air shooting out from his stomach after being trapped in it for so long.  The creature's head began to bob from side to side.  Merciville knew that there was something in the creatures line of vision that intrigued it and he knew who it was too.  Him!  Behind him a sound of the two legged enemy getting closer.  Another stream of warm air, exited from his taunt body.  Merciville closed his eyes, the muscles in his body far too taunt for the air to escape without a squeal of noise. 

             "What!" an enemy's human voice called behind him.  "Who was that?  George, was that you?  Good grief, you stink man are you rotting or something?"

            "It wasn't me," another enemy's voice shrilled, "honest.  Besides the noise sounded like it came from you!"

            Already the feathered creature was being distracted by the enemy behind Merciville.  It was good, a glimmer of hope popped through his head slipping into the back of his throat forcing more air noisily from his body. 

            Suddenly everything was a blur of motion and sound.  In front of him the feathered creature lowered its head before throwing itself into the air and beating its wings.  Behind him a sudden rush of scampering feet as the two legged enemy charged.  Again, the two voices shouting at one another, and then being joined by another female voice. 

            Merciville realised that this was his only chance that he had.  It was now or never.  He could wait to make sure that everything was safe, or he could make a harrowing dash for home.  If luck was on his side then he would be able to get home safely while the two legged enemy kept the feathered creature distracted.  Closing his eyes and holding his breath, he charged full force towards the tree that held his house.  His home.  Over the years the Merciville clan had built an elaborate maze of tunnels that filtered through the tree.  In times gone by the little rooms used to be filled with the sound of young squirrels playing.  Now they were empty.

            With the usual grace that had been bestowed upon the family of Mercivilles, from the beginning of time, Merciville hit the side of his tree at full gallop.   A spark snapped in his brain, his father telling him that he was the only Merciville to ever use his head - as a battering ram when stopping.  The sound of his little skull smacking into the solid wood, echoing around the crystal white park.  Stepping back a few strides, he violently shook his head, spraying the pain down into his neck and eventually out of his body attached to another steam of warm air.  Looking wildly around him, he could see that the bright blue sky was clear of the feathered creature and the two legged enemy were no where to be seen.  Smiling to himself, he used his powerful claws to scamper up the tree, around the branch and finally into the hole of his house.  Slumping down in the furthest corner of the hole, he was thankful to be alive.  It had been a harrowing day and one he would dearly love to forget.  Smiling to himself as his body relaxed, he knew that he had been brave again.  The neighbours admiring the power of the Merciville line.  There would be no laughing at him today! 

            Once his heart settled to a more static pace, he lifted himself off the floor and followed the nearest tunnel to a level directly beneath the entrance.  Blinking the tears from out of his eyes, he wondered if the smell was really as bad as all his fellow neighbours had said.  He doubted that it was, as he honestly couldn't smell any of it.  Old man Codgers, from the tree directly up wind, had told him that the reason Merciville couldn't smell was he kept running around with his eyes closed and using his nose as a break.  Smiling to himself, he knew that there was nothing wrong with his level of smell.  He was a Merciville, for crying out loud.  Merciville the sixteenth.  There wasn't anything to smell in this part of the park.  Gleefully rubbing his little paws together, he said a little pre-dinner thank you for being clever enough to outsmart the feathered creature and the two legged enemy.   Ignoring the wording on the can, he reached in and grabbed a paw full of food.  The old light brown sauce dripping  between the E and the A of the BAKED BEANS label. 

            Outside the tree, a pigeon soared high above the park in the clear blue skies.  It was glad to finally be out of the trees, the smell had been horrendous, it honestly believed that it was going to be sick as it grasped, through the snow, onto the branch.  Looking down it watched as a group of kindergarten kids ran down the pavement, next to the park, pushing one another and all holding their noses.  Peeling off to the west, the pigeon knew that the park had to be avoided.  There was something about that place that honestly didn't smell right.  Looking back a final time, the pigeon could see another small group of squirrels scampering down their trees, looking at the tree that he had been nearly sick from and then heading across the park towards the road.  Yes, the pigeon thought, the snow covered park was definitely a place to be avoided.