Braver Page 11

  She pushed through the wheat, gasping for breath. A tall wooden building loomed ahead, painted white and topped with a vented roof. “I … I … I can’t keep going.”

  “You’re going to break a leg if you keep running like that,” Melvin said. “We can hide here.” He slid off Lola’s back and helped Blue to the ground.

  The building was a grain silo, waiting to be filled in late summer when the grains were ripe. The doorway was large enough for Lola to squeeze through. Streaks of light came through the roof’s vents, forming bright rectangles on the floor. Lola sank onto the wooden floor. “I’ll be okay. I just need to catch my breath.” Blue sat next to her.

  Voices rose in the distance. Lola’s fur bristled. She suddenly felt the walls closing in around her, and not in the comforting way of a burrow. “We’re trapped if they come here. We have to go somewhere else.”

  Melvin nodded. They turned toward the door but the voices closed in.

  “Mates, these plants are broken. Looks like something big came this way.”

  “Big like a wombat?”

  “Why are we chasing a joey? I can’t remember.”

  “For food, of course. A crate for each of us.”

  “Oh, that’s right.”

  The rats began arguing in earnest, slowing their approach. Melvin stealthily closed the door but there was no way to lock it.

  “Look, there’s a door,” a rat said.

  Lola’s first thought was to barricade the door with her rump, but it wasn’t the right fit. She scooped Blue into her arms and backed up, trying to hide in the deep shadowy recesses of the silo. “Be very quiet,” she whispered. Blue looked at her with his watery eyes. Then he whimpered and began sucking on one of his flippers. Melvin grabbed a long wooden tool that was leaning with a few other tools. Holding it tightly in both hands, he brandished it threateningly even as his paws began to shake.

  In a moment, the rats would stream in, their snouts sniffing, their eyes darting this way and that, searching for Lola. They might put her in a cage and take her to join her parents, but they might take her somewhere else. She had no way of knowing. She couldn’t get caught. Not when her uncle was waiting. T.B. is ready.

  If she walked out of the silo, the rats would take her. They’d never have to know about Blue and Melvin. “I see that look on your face,” Melvin whispered. “You’re not giving yourself up. Don’t even think about it.”

  “Halt!”

  Lola’s ears pricked. The voice had come from just outside the door. She pulled Blue’s flipper from his mouth and clasped the end of his beak shut so he couldn’t have one of his outbursts. “Shhhh,” she whispered. Melvin raised the threshing tool higher.

  “What are you doing?” the voice asked.

  “We’re trying to catch a young wombat,” a rat replied. “Overseer’s orders.”

  “I have already searched this silo. The wombat is long gone. She outran you all. Return to the train, immediately.”

  Shuffling sounds and grumbles arose, followed by the pounding of paws. The rats were leaving. Lola and Melvin exchanged a surprised look. Someone had lied to the rats, someone who also had authority over the rats. But who?

  The silo door creaked open wider. Melvin stepped protectively in front of Lola and Blue. The trio stared at the doorway. Lola felt as if she were living inside a scary story, waiting for the monster to appear. Blue pressed against Lola and whimpered.

  A monster did appear. But it wasn’t just a monster from a story. It was real. Very real.

  15

  SNARL, SON OF SNARL

  The Tassie devil who stepped into the silo was smaller than the others Lola had seen. His ears were red, but the rest of him was pure black, with no white markings around his neck. He wore a black robe like the overseer’s and the taskmaster’s but had no whip around his waist.

  Melvin raised the threshing tool. “Stay right there or I’ll—”

  He held up his paws. “I am unarmed. And I mean you no harm, I promise.” He lowered his paws. “Though I understand you have no reason to trust me. Why should you? You only know my kind as predators, or worse, as monsters.” He shook his head sadly, then sighed. “But I assure you, most of us have given up the old ways. We are decent critters who love peace and quiet almost as much as any wombat.” He looked directly at Lola. To her surprise, she found kindness in his eyes.

  Melvin slowly lowered his arms. “You’re a youngster, like Lola.”

  He bowed. “I am Snarl, son of Snarl. And though I carry no weapons, I am a warrior for peace.”

  “A warrior for peace?” Lola asked.

  “Precisely.” Snarl straightened himself, his chin held high. “I have been trained to disarm with words, using physical force only after such methods have failed. What sort of warrior are you?”

  “I’m not a warrior,” Lola said. “But I do like words.”

  “I’m not a warrior either,” Melvin said. “I abhor confrontations of any sort.” He raised the threshing tool again. “But I’ll use this if I have to. Believe me, I will.” His tail stiffened and rose above his head, like a snake ready to strike.

  “I believe you. But as you can see…” Snarl held his arms aloft and turned in a slow circle. “I carry not a whip, nor a blade, nor even a rock. I promise you that I pose no physical threat. And my promise is as good as my life.”

  Blue, who’d been trembling in Lola’s arms, suddenly hiccupped. Snarl lowered his paws and cocked his head. “Hello, little penguin. And hello, Lola, daughter of Alice.” Lola held tight to Blue. “How … how do you know my name? How do you know my mum’s name?”

  “Though I have never met your mother, I know of her through shared acquaintances. I was sent to find her and escort her to Dore.”

  “You were supposed to escort my mum to Dore?” Lola shook her head. Was there straw in her ears? Had she heard him correctly? Her mother didn’t travel beyond the trading post. And she certainly wouldn’t go anywhere with a night monster. “I don’t believe you.”

  “Nor do I,” said Melvin, taking a step closer to Lola.

  “I’m Blue!”

  Snarl pressed the tips of his paws together. “I know this is confusing. And I can’t tell you everything. But as you have noticed, there is a scattering of Tassie devils on the loose in the land. I suppose you could call them … rebels, outcasts from our own society. Perhaps even more so than we have been from yours. My acquaintances needed your mother to get to Dore as soon as possible, but it was too risky to have her travel alone. And so they sent me. I chose a route off the beaten path and traveled mostly at night, for as you know, my kind tends to strike fear in most critters.”

  “Terrify,” Melvin said. “I think that’s a better word choice.”

  Snarl sighed. “Yes, you’re right. Terrify most critters.” He continued. “But when I arrived, the burrows were empty. I found fresh paw prints and followed them. That’s when I spied you, Lola, crossing the river to the trading post in Fairwater. I listened, outside the window, to your conversation with the proprietors, and I learned about the horrid fate of your family. I’m sorry. We’re sorry.”

  “We?” Melvin asked. “Who are you working for?”

  Snarl didn’t reply. “Lola, I—”

  “Wait.” She tightened her hold on Blue as that eerie sensation crept back up her spine. “After leaving the burrows, I kept hearing sounds. Were you following me?”

  “Yes. I needed to know something. I found the message, and that’s when I realized you had gotten it by mistake.”

  Found the message? So he was the one who’d taken her secret message. That explained why the pocket of her backpack had been opened. “You know about my secret message? Are you the one who sent it?” Lola frowned in disbelief. Suddenly, a piece of the puzzle clicked into place. “Wait a minute. You’re the bloodthirsty brute who hired Bale Blackwater?”

  “Bloodthirsty I am not,” he bristled, flicking his head aside in a huff. “Nor do I consider myself a brute. As I have said
, I carry no weapon of any sort. I am beholden to the Treaty of Mount Ossa, as is the vast majority of Tassie devils. To the pledge that we would no longer hunt. And that we would cast aside instinct and desire, choosing instead the calming structure provided by society and discipline” He placed his paws together once again and bowed.

  His words were complex and confusing. Lola didn’t know anything about their society, except that they were predators. And predators were bad. But though one of those predators stood only a few feet away, Lola’s need to understand outweighed her fear.

  She set Blue on the floor next to Melvin. Then she took a hesitant step forward. “Were you trying to trap my mum? Did you want her to think that her brother needed her? So you could catch her for gold coin?”

  “No,” he said, looking deeply into Lola’s eyes. “I’m working with your mother.”

  “Working with her?” Lola clenched her paws. “That’s impossible. My mum carves bowls, that’s her work. She would never work with a … with a…”

  “A monster?” He frowned.

  “What do you want?” Melvin asked. “Why are you here?”

  A whistle blew. Snarl turned, glanced outside, and turned back. “Listen to me, Lola. We don’t have much time. You must go home, where it is safe. That’s what I want. And that’s what your mother would want, too. Go back to the burrows. You are too young.”

  “I’m the same age as you,” she said defiantly. “I won’t go home. And why should I? There’s no one at home. Your kind took them away!”

  Snarl nodded sadly. “Alas, there is a rebel band of Tassie devils who cannot be trusted. Who wish to return to the old ways, no matter what the cost may be.” His gaze turned to Melvin. “Take her somewhere safe, perhaps to Penguin Bay so you can return little Blue as well. Please. I will not be able to protect her if she makes her way to Dore.”

  Melvin leaned on the threshing tool. “I hate to break it to you, but Lola’s no ordinary wombat. She speaks her mind and makes her own decisions.”

  “That’s right,” Lola said. “I’m going to find my family no matter how many devils try to stop me!”

  A low growl thrummed in Snarl’s throat. For a moment Lola saw the flash of temper she’d seen in others—a glimpse of razor-sharp teeth, a hint of fire in the eyes. But this reaction passed quickly and his composure returned. “Then go in peace, Lola,” he said, his voice calm and steady. “But know that for now I cannot protect you. There are other things I must do.” He bowed, and with a swift turn on his heels, he left the silo.

  “Bye-bye,” Blue called with a little wave.

  Lola and Melvin rushed to the doorway, watching Snarl disappear among the stalks of wheat.

  16

  HOT AIR

  In the distance, the train whistled multiple times as it departed, each issuance growing softer until the noise fell away entirely, leaving a heavy silence in its wake. A thin plume of black smoke faded into the horizon.

  “Do you think the rats and devils left on the train?” Lola asked as she and Melvin stood in the silo’s entryway.

  “I hope so,” he said as he set the threshing tool aside.

  Blue squeezed between Lola and Melvin, then bounced down the steps, chasing a yellow butterfly that had caught his attention. “Don’t wander,” Lola called after him. She and Melvin looked at the field. The cornstalks swayed gracefully in the breeze as if nothing had changed. As if night monsters hadn’t invaded the Farmlands. As if the queen hadn’t turned against her most loyal subjects.

  “Do you think there are good Tassie devils and bad Tassie devils?” Lola asked. “Like Snarl said.”

  Melvin folded his arms and looked out over the landscape. “It’s possible. Just as there are swamp water rats who despise garbage and Northern Forest wombats who like to talk.”

  “Melvin?”

  He turned his long snout toward her. “You don’t have to say it.”

  “I do have to say it.” Lola felt terribly guilty. She’d suspected Melvin of taking her secret message. But Melvin had led her out of the swamp, helped rescue Blue, and walked every step of this journey beside her. As the sun warmed her fur, she realized that not only did she trust him, but he’d become her friend, too. And maybe he could help her make sense of it all. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m sorry I didn’t trust you.”

  He waved a paw at her. “It’s understandable that you’d suspect me. You thought we were alone out there. I was the only critter who could have taken it. Other than our loud companion.”

  Blue caught the butterfly and shoved it into his beak. “Blech!” he exclaimed as he spat it out. “Bad!” Then he started chasing a green butterfly, presumably thinking different colors had different flavors.

  “I still don’t understand all this fuss about a secret message,” Melvin said. He sat on the top step and patted the space next to him. “Do tell.”

  “Okay, here goes.” Lola also sat, then took a long breath. “Bale Blackwater is the platypus who carried the message upstream to the burrows. He said that it was a secret message and it needed a secret password. I said ‘hooly dooly’ because I always say that when I’m nervous, and ‘hooly dooly’ turned out to be the password, so Bale Blackwater gave me the message. Then, just before Bale swam away, he told me that a bloodthirsty brute had sent the message but he didn’t say who or why.”

  “The bloodthirsty beast is Snarl, apparently. And the message was meant for your mum. What did it say?”

  “‘T.B. is ready.’”

  “Who’s T.B.?”

  “I didn’t figure that out until later. After Bale Blackwater left I heard these terrible sounds. That’s when I saw all the wombats being carted away. My mum hollered at me to find my uncle. I didn’t even know I had an uncle. So I ran back to the burrow and searched until I found some letters from my uncle, Tobias Bottom, and I learned that he’s an ambassador in Dore. His initials are T.B., so I guessed that the message was about him. I figured that Mum wanted me to find Uncle Tobias because he could help free the wombats. But why would a Tassie devil send that message? That’s the part that makes no sense.”

  “There are still too many missing pieces,” Melvin said. “If what Snarl told us is true, and he sent the message, then he must have sent it on your uncle’s behalf. That would mean he’s working for your uncle.”

  Lola shook her head. “Maybe Snarl lied. Maybe he’s working for the queen. She’s the one who’s letting those monsters leave Mount Ossa. She’s the one who’s paying gold coin for wombats. What if Queen Myra sent the message pretending it was from my uncle to trap my mum? What if she put my uncle in a cage, just like the others?” Lola couldn’t believe what she was saying. She’d spent her entire life admiring the queen.

  Melvin stopped grooming. “I agree with you that our queen is looking suspect. But why would she do these things?”

  “I don’t know. But at the very least I think we can trust my uncle to have been fighting against it. Still, there’s only one way to find out and only one way I can help. I need to get to Dore, and fast.” Lola scrambled to her paws.

  “I?” Melvin asked, eyes widening. “Last time I counted there were three of us on this journey.”

  Even though she felt confused and scared, Lola tried to put on a brave face. “What the gold-toothed one said was true. There’s a reward for wombats. I saw it with my own eyes. One gold coin for the capture of a wombat. And I met two Tassie devils who call themselves the overseer and the taskmaster. They will be looking for me. If you travel with me you’ll be in danger. I should go alone.”

  Now it was Melvin’s turn to scramble to his feet. “Alone?” He set his paws on his hips and looked at Lola the same way her father looked at her when she was caught talking to neighbors. “You listen to me, Lola Budge. I wouldn’t be able to stand my own perfectly groomed reflection if I abandoned you. We’re stronger together, or hadn’t you noticed?”

  A tear came to Lola’s eye. She hadn’t really wanted to be alone, but it had seemed like t
he right thing to do. She wrapped her arms around Melvin, enveloping him in a big furry hug. “Thank you.” He hugged back, chuckling. When she released him, he looked a bit embarrassed and began anew the process of smoothing his gray fur.

  “Do you see this?” he asked, pointing to a clump at his elbow. “I’m getting a mat. I can’t believe those walking stomachs took all our stuff. How am I going to convince the critters of Dore that my swamp-mud products work if I look like every other swamp water rat?”

  “Then we’d better get there before you completely fall apart,” Lola teased. “Let’s go.” She looked toward the field. “Blue? Oh, hooly dooly. Blue!”

  Melvin groaned. “Here we go again.” He rushed down the stairs and into the field while Lola circled the outside of the silo, panic increasing with each step. That little penguin could disappear faster than a fish in a river. “Do you see him?”

  “There’s a little trampled path over here,” Melvin called. He and Lola followed it through the field. A few fluffy gray feathers indicated that they were heading in the right direction. The stalks of wheat bent and wavered as they passed by. Lola felt bad that she was crushing more plants, but Blue had to be found. As far as she could tell, baby penguins had no defense mechanisms. They didn’t have hard wombat rumps or sharp rat teeth.

  “Blue!”

  “I swear, I’m never going to be a parent,” Melvin said, following in Lola’s wake, his tail swishing agitatedly across the dirt. “Babies are more trouble than ticks. More annoying than bities.”

  A small wooden crate lay in the trampled path, exactly like the crates they’d seen earlier when they’d found Blue. This one contained sunflower seeds. They came to another crate with its lid fallen open. It was full of biscuits, most broken. Lola’s mouth watered, but she kept walking. Several more crates were scattered among the stalks.

  Then they came to a huge basket that was squarish in shape and as tall as Lola. Attached to the basket was a gaggle of ropes. Attached to these ropes was some fabric, which lay crumpled on the ground. The fabric was made from a hodgepodge of materials—shirts, vests, blankets, towels, even a few pairs of socks, all stitched together. Heavy stones hung off the side of the basket, and a pickaxe had been driven into the ground to serve as an anchor. Lola had no idea what she was looking at.