About Twice Caught
by Syd McGinley
266 pages / 70000 words
ISBN: 978-1-61040-561-4
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Tarin's been caught, but can he be civilized?
Despite his wild ways and his keen instincts, Twice-caught Tarin is bonding with his beak-faced captain, Garrick, but not everyone wants their relationship to succeed. Learning civilized skills and living in buildings have their good points, but Tarin struggles to reconcile his yearning for freedom with his desire for Garrick and his loyalty to his friends. His thinking is clouded by his buzzing conscience and the remaining effects of having his memory wiped by the mysterious Mothers.
One thing Tarin is sure of; Major Jadon is a Bad Egg. He's a bitter and jealous man determined to stop any happiness in the community and consolidate power in himself. If Jadon succeeds in his plans, not only will Tarin and Garrick be parted, but Tarin's friend Perry will be in Jadon's clutches.
As if threats to community harmony and the safety of new boys weren't bad enough, Tarin may lose the traditional Candle Day choice between his man and the woods if Garrick is not declared to be whole and healthy. Can Tarin's untamed nature defeat the civilized Jadon's cunning use of the community's rules before Candle Day? As many perils for Tarin lie within the winterbound community as outside, but when library-boy Aran faces a cruel punishment, Tarin is even willing to face the Mothers to save his friend.
Winter may pass, but will Jadon’s malice ever cease?
Review
Angela Benedetti, author of Hidden Magic, writes: Twice Caught
takes us back to Syd McGinley's post-apocalyptic future and the world of
wild boy Tarin and his man Garrick. In Out of the Woods Tarin learned
to appreciate a few bits here and there of what the men call "civilization,"
and he found himself becoming to like Beak-Face Garrick as well. But he
still misses the woods, and the freedom to run and climb and hunt and just
be alone for a while, in a place where no one can find him. He has to
choose by Candle Day whether he'll stay or leave.
Making his choices harder is a pile of problems that all seem to point back
to Major Jadon. The senior officers can't or won't see that Jadon is causing
trouble and always has, and that he's threatening Tarin and Garrick and some
of Tarin's closest friends. If Jadon has his way, life with the men will be
horrible anyway; if he's going to lose Garrick anyway, Tarin might as well
choose to go back to the woods. And Tarin's friend Aran is sentenced to a
horrible punishment for something that's not at all his fault; I couldn't
imagine how that was going to work out, with the senior officers regretful
but unmoving.
One of the best bits -- a scene where Tarin is watching a bunch of movies,
helping screen DVDs with a committee deciding which are suitable for the
boys to see. Reading the descriptions of each movie from Tarin's point of
view and trying to figure out what the movies are was great fun.
This is an excellent follow-up to Out of the Woods. The problems keep
building, and both Tarin and Garrick are struggling to climb out of the pit
Jadon has tossed them into, as well as help their friends.
We see more of the men's world, and also get another glimpse of the Mothers'
side of things, and of the larger world beyond Tarin's woods. It's like
there are two stories going on in this series -- the close-order story of
Tarin and Garrick and the problems they're facing in the compound, and the
broader view story of what happened to the larger world and what it looks
like now and why. Syd's feeding us enough of the former to keep me, at
least, eagerly reading, cheering for Tarin and booing at Jadon, and just
enough of the latter to make me want to go back to camping on her lawn until
we get more. Anyone with me? :)
Sample
Tarin curled his toes a bit tighter against the bark as
he scooted his butt back and leaned against the tree trunk. He huffed out a
breath and watched his mouth-air swirl in the cold. His toes twitched.
Stupid socks meant he could hardly hold on. He wriggled his ass, and his
trousers unpuckered from his crack. Having a layer between him and the cold
wasn't ungood. But it wasn't good either. He scowled and sucked hard on his
honey treat. He was in a tree. It was a reward and he should enjoy it. If he
didn't look down and see how close the ground was, he could imagine he was
high up and solitary. Safe and alone.
He sighed. His reward wasn't the freeness he'd hoped for when he'd begged
for a scramble up a tree. The bare limbs meant he was plainly visible. No
private moment. He plucked at his snug top. His holly berry Shortest Day
clothes stopped him feeling the world and were not going to help him be
not-being-seen Tarin.
He squirmed. The no leaves and scarlet sweatshirt were not the real problem.
The tree was in the middle of the Before Times quad. Cadets were running in
groups through the slush and shouting songs. Tarin knew his freedom was just
a few minutes of play. That wasn't the problem either. Tarin swallowed some
honey juice. The real problem was stamping around under the tree slapping
his own sides to keep warm. Tarin glowered at the yellow flop of hair, the
bony beak, and straw jut of beard that were all he could see of his man's
face.
"Bonded," growled Tarin, and rubbed his stupid tingling spine against the
trunk. "Candle Day," he hissed to himself. "Be quiet, spine. Tarin waits!"
Either his promise or the bark scratched the conscience itch enough. Tarin
watched Garrick march in place. It wasn't warm clothes, good food, or even
men that had Tarin trapped. It was his own self that kept him here.
And sitting in a tree, playing at being free, only heightened the civilized
trap.
"Coming down," he hollered. "Not land on you!"
Garrick had already taken a precautionary pace back.
"Woof," said Tarin as he plummeted down and grinned at Garrick's teasing
clutch at his own ribs. "Not squash you!"
"Not twice squashed," said Garrick, rubbing where Tarin had once cracked his
man's chest. "Get your feet in those go-sloshes before you take another
step. Gideon will kill us both if your feet get cold."
"Socks," grumbled Tarin, glaring at the hated things. "Wearing them."
"Wet and cold," amended Garrick. "If your toes fall off, we'll be in the
scat."
"Frosty-toes." Tarin shoved his feet into the funny rubbery shoes. He was
still not convinced about this notion of Healer Gideon's that Tarin's toes
were in danger of falling off if they got too cold again. Men had odd ideas
about socks, and frosty-toes was probably a trick to make Tarin wear them
despite his Mothers' Dispensation.
Tarin sighed and trudged along next to his man.
"Short climb, boy."
Tarin shrugged. "Not right."
Garrick didn't say anything, but his beard twitched. "Let's get some work
done before the light fades."
"Work, work," Tarin bit off the last planned "work" before Garrick could
give him an irritated look. Tarin's early mornings in the bakery with Edon
were good, but his late afternoon shift in the library was merely tolerable.
It was the project with Garrick that stressed him. Not that it was arduous,
but so much rode on it, and it was frustrating and picky.
The early afternoon light was hitting Garrick's work table perfectly, and
the feathers, shiny line, and sharp hooks were meticulously laid out. Tarin
had his doubts that even the best lures were going to be enough to reinstate
Garrick as a hunter.
If his man wasn't a hunter, then he wasn't contributing enough to the
community to have a helpmeet. And Bad Egg Jadon would win.
Garrick shucked off his parka and stood for a long moment, rubbing his
injured right hand.
"Get cold-stiff?" asked Tarin. "Should put a sock on it."
Garrick barked at his cheeky boy and sat down. He waggled his remaining
finger and touched it to his thumb several times. "Well, a glove would be
wasted, but less of your backtalk, boy. We need to figure out how to tie
this lure. Here, you hold this feather in place for me."
Tarin sat quietly with his finger inside loops of line while Garrick
muttered and consulted black lines on paper and repeatedly failed to
replicate them.
"Tarin does it instead?" suggested Tarin after a while.
"No," said Garrick, his snarl barely suppressed. "Has to be my skill, boy."
For a second Tarin thought his man was going to sweep the hooks and lures to
the floor. "And Gideon says this practice will help my hand heal right."
Tarin reached out and massaged Garrick's clawed hand. It was stiff and
knotted with the cold and pain. The scar tissue where his three missing
fingers used to be looked purple and hard.
"Hurts?"
Garrick moaned. "No, boy, not really. I can't feel what I'm doing with these
two. And the gone fingers ache."
Tarin nodded. It made no sense, but he missed trees that were still there,
so perhaps Garrick could feel fingers that were gone. He kept rubbing
Garrick's hand and felt the inside of his man's palm shift a little.
"Lady Night fingers," said Garrick, his beard bristling at his boy as they
watched the truncated bones and tendons move under the skin. "Ah, what's the
point, Tarin? I'll never be able to catch enough fish to replace the deer I
used to bring in."
"We fight," hissed Tarin. "Remember?"