Part 14 (2/2)

The four friends had trekked through the scrub woodlands all afternoon, their shadows lengthening in front of them heralding the onset of evening. It had been a still, hot day, and the going was slow in the heat. Rose wiped her brow as she caught up with Pallum. Martin had been clearing ahead with his shrew sword.

”Phew, it'll get a little cooler as night falls, but then we'll lose our frontshadows in the dark.”

They waited as Grumm caught up with them. The mole blinked as he wiped the moist tip of his nose. ”Hurr, be cooler unnerground, us'ns a-goen f make camp soon, Marthen?”

”Good idea, Grumm. We deserve a rest. Where d'you suggest we camp?”

”Burr, oi dunno. Wot say 'ee, Miz Roser?”

The mousemaid stood on tip-paw looking around. ”Straight ahead, I'd say. It looks less scrubby and the trees are taller, like a proper forest. Let's camp by that old dead oak.”

A slow smile spread across Pallum's face. ”Do you mean that old dead oak with the three tops ...?”

Rose clapped her paws together as she recited the lines. ”Follow your frontshadow, do not stop, till you reach the one with dead three top. Hahah, that's it, an old dead three-topped oak. Come on!”

They lay in a mossy hollow at the base of the long dead forest giant, eating supper and looking up at the night sky Above the woody canopy countless stars bejewelled the dark velvet expanse, and a silent fiery-tailed comet flashed across the peaceful scene. Rose picked at a small carrot and turnip farl as she pa.s.sed the canteen of mint and lavender cordial to Martin.

”Well, we found the dead three top easy enough. Tomorrow we'll look for the twin paths. Oh, I do hope Brome and Felldoh are all right. I'd hate to think of us lying here eating if they needed our help.”

Martin took a sip from the canteen. ”Trust Polleekin's words, Rose. There's nothing else we can do. Brome is young, but Felldoh will look after him-he's a warrior.”

The mousemaid looked at the short shrew sword sticking in the ground close to Martin's paw where he could reach it quickly.

”What's it like, being a warrior?”

”I don't know really,” Martin shrugged. ”I won't consider myself a warrior until the day I take my father's sword back from Badrang.”

Rose tossed a piece of her bread. It bounced off Martin's nose. ”Silly, of course you're a warrior. Even Polleekin saw that. I know you're a warrior because you protect others. Look at the way you've helped me and Grumm, and Pallum. And the way you dealt with that big seabird. n.o.beast but a warrior could have done that.”

Gentle snoring noises came from the mole and the hedgehog.

Martin chuckled. ”No good asking them, they're sound asleep like I should be. Us warriors need lots of sleep, you know. Good night, Rose.”

148.

Long after Martin had gone to sleep, Rose lay awake thinking of her home in Noonvale.

”Noonvale.” She said the name in a whisper to the star-strewn night.

To her it meant peace, happiness and security, filled as it was with family and friends. Noonvale, the secret place of the ancient northeastern forest. The young mousemaid closed her eyes and fell into a deep slumber, far from home. Noonvale.

Dawn arrived soft as a feather on air. Martin opened one eye and watched two ants trundling off with the tiny piece of bread that Rose had thrown at him. He lay still, thinking of Noonvale. He had talked with Rose the previous day. As they walked, she told him about her home, with Grumm adding the occasional comment.

The more Martin heard of the place the more he liked it. Maybe someday he could live there, with Rose and her family and Grumm and Pallum . ..

”Coom on, zurr Marthen. You'm a-goen t' loi thurr all season?” Grumm prodded Martin with his little ladle. ”Naow, wot'll 'ee 'ave fer breffist. Oi c'n make zoop.”

Rose sat up, rubbing her eyes. ”No soup, Grumm. We'll eat from the packs.”

Martin stood and stretched. ”Aye, best not light a fire in strange country.”

Grumm wandered off, muttering to himself. ”Burr, no foire. Oi do loiks moi zoop of a mornen, leastways oi'm not a-goen wi'out fresh water. Oi'll go an' seek summ out.”

Rose smiled as she dug apple turnovers out of her pack. ”He's a proper old grump some mornings. Should've been called Grump instead of Grumm. Here, have one of these turnovers. He'll be back soon with fresh water. That's another thing he insists on most mornings. Even in winter, he'll sit out sucking icicles in the snow.”

149.

Pallum, Martin and Rose broke their fast with apple turnovers, some candied hazel and chestnuts and the remains of the cordial from the canteen. They sat enjoying the quiet woodland as the sun warmed the morning. Pallum kept some food out for Grumm as he repacked their provisions.

Rose stood up, looking around anxiously. ”Where has that mole got to? He only went for water. I'll give him a shout...”

”No, don't raise your voice, Rose. If Grumm can hear it then so can others. Come on, we'll take a quiet walk and look for him.”

Martin could see that Rose was concerned for her friend. She kept shaking her head and murmuring under her breath, ”He's never usually gone this long. Grumm, silly beast, where are you?”

They were not far into the tall trees when Martin stopped. Pointing ahead, he leaned close and whispered, ”See the twin paths, beware of one Sweet as the spreading atop of a scone. There they are, Rose. The twin paths. Look.”

Two definite paths twisted and curved away through the tall treetrunks, one to the left, the other to the right.

”Maybe Grumm's gone down one, but which one?” Rose's voice sounded small in the huge silent forest.

”Neither, I 'ope. They both look pretty fearful. Maybe I best stay 'ere and wait in case Grumm shows up. You two can explore the paths. I'd only get in the way.”

Rose could see that the hedgehog was afraid. She patted his p.r.i.c.kles carefully. ”Good idea, Pallum. Come on, Martin.”

They ventured a short way along the path that ran to the right. It wound and curved but seemed safe enough. Martin shook his head. ”Let's try the left path.”

Creeping stealthily forward, they explored the left path. It seemed more tangled and overgrown than the other and oppressively hot. Again Martin halted. He made a gesture towards his ear, indicating that Rose 150.

should listen. The mousemaid heard it right away. It was a thick, heavy humming, like nothing she had ever heard. Straining her ears, she caught a low, frightened whimper.

”That's Grumm!”

”Aye, and it's coming from round that bend. You stay here, Rose.” Martin drew his small sword.

”I'm coming with you. I couldn't stay here, Martin.” Rose caught on to his paw.

”All right, but stay behind me and try not to make any noise.”

They inched forward carefully. The humming grew heavier until it seemed to be part of the very air they breathed. There was an overpoweringly sweet smell everywhere. Martin brushed aside a wild dogrose and they rounded the bend.

It was a very strange scene that met their eyes.

Bees! There were literally millions of the insects. They swarmed on shrubs, bushes, trees and all over the ground. A fallen elm blocked the path completely, and gigantic hives stood everywhere along it-old hives, new hives, half-built hives and old broken ones. Honeycomb could be seen exposed in parts, thick, golden and wax-seamed. Amber nectar dripped to the ground and onto the heavy fungus that grew around the fallen tree. With his back almost touching the trunk sat Grumm, the small ladle held against his nose so that he could breathe. Rose stared wide-eyed. It was hard to distinguish Grumm from the bees that swarmed on him. They were all over his furry body, from footpaws to eartips, covering him completely and buzzing dangerously. Grumm had his eyes tight shut. Every once in while he would make a small frightened sound around the ladle that protected his nostrils.

”Sit still, Grumm,” Rose said in a husky whisper. ”Don't cry, there's a good mole. Martin and I are here now.”

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