Braver, Page 8

  It worked. Before she reached chapter seven, Blue’s eyes had closed and so had hers.

  * * *

  Just as the sun began to rise, a loud exclamation, scented by fishy breath, woke her. “Hungry!” Lola opened her eyes to find Blue’s beak about an inch from her nose. Then he waddled out of the burrow and stuck his face into the sleeping bag. “Hungry!”

  “Oh, dreary days, what a surprise,” Melvin replied with dry sarcasm.

  Blue waddled back to Lola. “Brekkie!”

  “Yes, we know,” Lola said as she climbed into daylight. She picked a downy feather off her face, then rubbed her eyes and looked around.

  The wide river gurgled and lapped gently against the rocky shore. Small ripples flittered across the surface, redirecting sparkling bursts of sunlight across the campsite and illuminating what shadows lingered from the night gone by. The trio had survived the night. And despite Lola’s worrying, she’d gotten a decent sleep. They weren’t being followed after all. It was just her imagination.

  Blue started bouncing up and down, chanting, “Hungry, hungry, hungry!” He bumped into her backpack, which lay open on the ground. She must have forgotten to close it after removing her cloak last night. But why was the side pouch open? She reached into the pouch. The secret message was gone. She searched the entire pack. “Melvin?”

  “I’ll catch him something in a moment,” he muttered, pulling the sleeping bag tighter around himself in an attempt to sleep a little longer.

  She tugged on the corner of the bag. “Melvin, wake up.” His head popped out, eyes blinking blearily in the sudden light. He looked different because his gray fur was all messy. “Did you take my secret message?”

  He sat up. “You have a secret message?”

  She frowned. “I mean that little piece of paper I wouldn’t show you. Did you take it?”

  “Lola, I wouldn’t search through your private things.” He rubbed sleep from his eyes, then stretched his arms.

  She wanted to believe him. Maybe the message had fallen out along the way. Besides, why would Melvin care about her secret message? To him it would just be a crumpled piece of paper. He couldn’t possibly know what it meant.

  Or maybe Melvin wasn’t what he seemed. Maybe he was as bad as those other swamp water rats who’d taken her family and neighbors. Maybe he was spying for the gold-toothed devil. This last thought made her stomach hurt. Everything was so confusing.

  Melvin stopped stretching and stared at her with a look of concern. He seemed to know exactly what she was thinking because he said in a very serious tone, “Lola, I would never take anything from you. I promise.”

  For a long moment they looked at each other in awkward silence. Which was broken by a single word. “HUNGRY!”

  “You’re welcome to search through my belongings.” Melvin grabbed the bucket by its handle and held it out to her. “I wish you would. I don’t want you to think I’m like those other rats, who would do anything for food.”

  “I—I don’t think that,” she said, none too convincingly. The situation made her uncomfortable. She stood, shuffled in place, looked away. “I don’t think you took it. Really, I don’t. I know you’re not like other rats.”

  “Good,” he said. “Because it’s very important to me that I be judged for who I am and not for what others think I am. For once, at least.” He sighed and looked off to the horizon.

  Though Lola and Melvin stood in close proximity, the space between them suddenly felt like a vast distance, as if they stood on opposite sides of the river. The truth was, Lola had never had a best friend before. During their trek, she’d begun to feel close to Melvin, as if she could tell him anything. As if he’d listen. As if they were friends. But now she wasn’t so sure.

  After breakfast, they resumed their walk. According to the map, they would soon reach the river’s beginning and the start of the Royal Road. Lola and Melvin didn’t speak much during their trek, and Lola was starting to wonder if they’d ever talk again when they came upon a glorious sight. Even though Lola was carrying Blue in her backpack, she broke into a run. A dock! With a paddle-wheel boat tied to it! She ran onto the dock, Melvin at her heels.

  A sign was nailed to one of the posts:

  PADDLE-WHEEL BOAT FOR HIRE

  SHOUT FOR SERVICE

  “This is the boat that took the wombats away,” she told Melvin, gasping between breaths. But there was no cage on board. She sniffed, but no wombat scent could be found. “HELLOOO!” she called. “HELLOOO, IS ANYONE HERE?” Her gaze landed on a door that was built into the riverbank. A platypus dwelling, probably belonging to the boat’s captain.

  Lola took off her backpack and pulled Blue free. “Don’t wander,” she told him, setting him on the dock. Then she did a very unwombatish thing and knocked on the door. Knocking on a wombat’s door was considered rude, for it would interrupt a wombat’s peace and quiet and most assuredly result in some sort of conversation. But this was clearly too small to be a wombat’s door.

  But no one answered. Then Lola saw a little sign tucked behind the windowpane. ON VACATION. Melvin stepped up behind her. “Maybe that’s why the Tassie devil was able to get her paws on the boat. Because the captain was away.”

  Lola nodded. It did seem to make sense. She sighed. “Let’s get going. Where’s Blue?”

  Blue, who’d been told not to wander, was nowhere to be seen. A single downy feather lay in the place where he’d last been standing. They called his name over and over. Melvin climbed up on Lola’s back to get a better view, his paw shading his eyes as he scanned the horizon. He rushed from one side of Lola to the other, stepping on her head at times as he searched. “Oh, hooly dooly,” Lola said. “We shouldn’t have left him alone.”

  Melvin suddenly jumped off her back and ran to the end of the dock. “There!” he said. Lola squinted into the distance. She gasped.

  A little ball of fluff was floating downriver.

  11

  THE ROYAL ROAD

  Blue didn’t appear distressed. He floated on his back, smacking his webbed feet together in a happy way. The river’s current flowed slowly, causing the penguin to bob gently, like a little blue ball. But Lola knew that the river would eventually narrow, the current becoming tumultuous, the rocks sharper, for she’d passed those sections on her journey.

  “Blue!” Lola cried, her paws around her mouth. “Blue, swim to shore!” Then she remembered. “Hooly dooly! He can’t swim.”

  Without another word, both she and Melvin raced to the end of the dock and dove. Well, Melvin dove. Headfirst, his arms outstretched, his body arced gracefully as he broke through the water’s surface like a kingfisher. Lola, on the other hand, tumbled in, like a rock, landing with a splat on her stomach. But she quickly recovered and paddled her arms and legs with all she could muster. But Melvin proved the faster swimmer, especially with the current aiding the way.

  “Got him!” he announced once he’d caught hold of Blue’s foot.

  “Wheeee hee hee!” Blue chortled, happily clapping his flippers.

  Using his tail as a rudder, Melvin pushed Blue toward the shore. Lola caught up and helped. When they reached the shallows, Blue scrambled to his feet as if nothing had happened. Lola and Melvin crawled out of the water, both gasping for breath.

  “Fun!” Blue exclaimed as he shook his feathers. He was shivering a bit, his baby down apparently not good at keeping out the cold.

  “Fun?” Lola said with alarm. “Blue, that river could have crushed you on some rocks, or carried you all the way to the ocean. If we hadn’t seen you…” Lola stopped, realizing that she’d raised her voice. Blue’s eyes got real wide and pooled with tears. She quickly pulled him into a hug. “Don’t cry. It’s okay. You’re okay. Nothing bad happened.”

  “Nothing bad happened?” Melvin wasn’t so forgiving. “Look at me.” He motioned over his entire body. He did look a mess, his fur matted in clumps, his whiskers drooping.

  Blue laughed and pointed his flipper at Me
lvin. “Funny!” Blue reached out, grabbed a tiny fish that was stuck to Melvin’s leg, and popped it into his mouth.

  “My young fellow,” Melvin said as began to wring water from his fur. “It is customary to thank the critter who saved your life, not insult him.” But Blue had already wandered off, distracted by a dragonfly.

  “You don’t look that bad,” Lola said, fighting back a smile. “Just a bit … waterlogged.” To her relief, Melvin returned the smile. Things were back to normal between them.

  Once Melvin had combed himself dry and Blue was in the backpack nest, the trio continued their trek. Finally, after so many delays, they were on the Royal Road. With the river behind them, a vast sky stretched overhead in endless blue, like an ocean over the world—an ocean Lola felt she might drown under. After living beneath a protective tree canopy all her life, the openness felt dizzying. But she pressed on. Tucked into the backpack, his little face sticking out, Blue fell into a sudden nap, snoring loudly in Lola’s ear. Babies were certainly annoying.

  The Royal Road was the only road leading from the dock in the opposite direction of the swamp, which meant that the rat-drawn cart, with its wombat captives, had also traveled this way. A wagon rut was visible here and there, but no scent of wombat could Lola detect, and no tufts of wombat fur did she find. Until she spotted something—something that made her heart sing.

  “What is it?” Melvin asked. He crouched next to Lola, who was staring at the ground.

  “It’s a wombat dropping,” she told him.

  “It’s shaped like a cube.”

  “Yes.” She beamed with happiness. “Do you know what that means?”

  “That this particular wombat needs to see a doctor?”

  Lola gave him a deadpan stare, and her whiskers twitched in response. “No, that’s not what it means. It means that they were here. We haven’t lost them after all. They might be a day or two ahead of us, but we haven’t lost them.” Her mum’s droppings were perfect cubes; everyone knew that. Alice had left this on purpose, for Lola to find. So Lola wouldn’t worry. So she wouldn’t give up.

  The road steepened, heading uphill. Lola’s legs ached as she and Melvin hiked side by side. They took deep breaths as the road twisted and turned into switchbacks, still wide enough for a cart. Lola wanted to stop and rest, but she pushed forward, and when they reached the top a beautiful sight awaited them.

  The world below appeared as a shallow, lumpy bowl encircled by mountains, most small, but a few tall and craggy with white, snowy tops. A patchwork of colors stretched across the center, reminding Lola of her mother’s quilt. Rich forest greens, light mossy greens, and all the greens in between, along with yellows, oranges, and whites in perfect squares. The patches were formed as if they’d been drawn with a ruler.

  “The Mouse Farmlands,” Melvin said. He was winded, so he leaned on his shovel. “This is the breadbasket of Tassie Island and the homeland of the long-tailed mice.”

  “It’s a story in my book,” Lola realized. “‘The Tale of the Wind-Swept Mice.’ The story says that once the mice bickered and fought over the boundaries of their lands, destroying much of what they produced. But one mouse who’d had enough of the fighting took to the sky atop a firebird and burned a pattern into the valley, dividing it into equal portions. Then, with the help of the wind, the mice were swept up and flung across the land, each one landing safely in a patch to call their own, ending all conflict in the valley. That’s how the patchwork was made.”

  Blue was deep asleep, his steady breaths warming the back of Lola’s neck. She turned her head, about to tell him that he was missing the scenery, but Melvin put a finger to his mouth. “Don’t wake him,” Melvin whispered. “We don’t want to disturb the lovely peace and quiet.”

  “You sound like a wombat,” she teased. Then she turned serious. “Do you think the mice will be able to help me?”

  “There’s only one way to find out.”

  They began the descent into the valley, treading carefully so as not to skid on the rocky road. The air was warm and moist from a recent rain. When they reached the bottom, the road forked into three roads, with three brightly painted signs marking each.

  THE EASTERN ROAD TO BLACK SWAN LAGOON

  THE WESTERN ROAD TO THE CRUMBLING MOUNTAINS

  THE ROYAL ROAD TO BOUNTY AND DORE

  Lola hesitated, looking from one sign to the other. Due to the rain, any tracks that might have been left by a cart or pawprints that might have been left by marching swamp water rats had been washed away. “They could have taken any of these roads. How can we know which way to go?” she asked.

  “We can’t go in all three directions unless we split up and I don’t think Blue’s up to that.” On cue, Blue snored even louder. “The only thing we know is that the gold-toothed devil said the queen had changed her laws. And she also said that someone was paying gold coin for the wombats. If the queen is involved…” He paused. “Then Dore must be the destination.”

  Lola hated the very thought that Queen Myra might be doing something so terrible. “But how can we be sure?”

  “We can’t.”

  Up until this point Lola had been comforted by the belief that she was following her mum and dad. That they were somewhere up ahead. But now they could have gone east or west, and if she continued south she could be walking away from them.

  “Lola,” Melvin said gently, for she stood frozen in indecision. “Lola?”

  “I can’t leave them. What if…?” Her jaw trembled. Melvin stepped closer.

  “There’s only one road that leads to the queen and to your uncle. They’ll know what to do,” he said encouragingly.

  “Yes.” She nodded slowly. It was the right decision, the surest decision. But that didn’t make it any easier.

  As they walked south, they found signs poking out of the fields, indicating the type of crops growing. The first field was thick with tall grasses swaying in a gentle breeze. GOLDEN WHEAT. The next field was dotted with yellow fruit. MOUNTAIN PEPPERS. The third field was thick with green plants. SPRAWLING PIGFACE. There was signage aplenty, but no mice.

  “Keep an eye out for anyone we can talk to,” Lola said. Where was everyone?

  Blue awoke with a snort and started wiggling and kicking. “I think he needs to stretch his legs.” Melvin lifted him out of the backpack.

  “Hungry!” Blue cried.

  “I’m sorry, Blue, but there aren’t any fish here,” Lola told him. She pointed to a shiny beetle crawling along the road. “What about bugs? Will you eat bugs? Lots of birds like bugs.”

  Blue poked the beetle with his beak, then slurped it up. “Blah!” he said, spitting it back out. The beetle sat dazed for a moment, covered in penguin slobber, then continued on its way, seemingly none the worse for wear.

  “What are we going to feed him?” Lola wondered.

  “Let’s hope they have something in town,” Melvin said.

  The day was hot, so they took a short rest beside a pond. “It’s a real scorcher,” Lola said. To Blue’s disappointment, the pond was filled with lily pads and frogs, not fish. They all drank some water, and because there was no food for Blue, both Lola and Melvin decided not to eat. They didn’t want to upset the youngest member of their group. They took a few moments to cool their feet in the water. Then, at Lola’s insistent urging, they left the cool water behind and continued down the road, the sun beating on their faces. Melvin tied his handkerchief over his head. “To prevent premature aging,” he explained.

  Small mouse-sized wheelbarrows and carts were parked in the fields, but still there were no mice to be seen. Lola grabbed Melvin’s arm. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

  Melvin’s tail twitched. “That the Tassie devil might have taken the mice, too?”

  Lola nodded. Was someone paying coin for long-tailed mice and wombats? Could that someone be the queen? There was only one way to find out.

  Just as late afternoon turned to evening and the colors of the Farmlands were
beginning to fade to darker hues, the trio reached the outskirts of Bounty, the largest town in the Farmlands. Rows of little mouse houses, far too small for a wombat or a penguin, were lined up in perfect precision. Each house was made from pebbles and clay and topped with a thatched roof. Each window was filled with a small pane of glass. The tidy yards were surrounded by white picket fences. Each house had a welcome mat at the front door, colorful curtains in the windows, and a mailbox out front. The houses and yards were empty.

  The Royal Road widened. Proper shop buildings now lined either side of the street, with small alleys cutting through to farther streets beyond. The first shop displayed tiny pairs of sandals in the window. The next had stacks of cookies and loaves of bread. There was a haberdashery with straw hats and a general store with bandanas and gardening gloves. But each shop had a CLOSED sign on its little door, and still there was no one in sight. “This is getting creepy,” Melvin said.

  Then music caught their ears—an upbeat tune accompanied by high-pitched singing. They followed the sound around a building and found themselves standing at the edge of a cobblestone square. Mice were everywhere! Some wore straw hats and bandanas, some wore bonnets. They were dancing and singing and enjoying mugs of frothy amber liquid that were being brought out on trays from an establishment called Stella’s Star. Tables were set up along the perimeter of the square. A quartet of musicians played on a central stage. Strings of lanterns sent a warm glow over the revelers. Both Lola and Melvin smiled with relief. Not only were the mice fine, they were having a party.

  Back in the burrows, the only music ever played was during the queen’s birthday, when the wombats brought out their carved pipes and played the queen’s birthday song. The farmland instruments were different, some with strings, some with bows, producing the loveliest music Lola had ever heard. Blue’s head started bobbing and he marched in a circle, keeping time with the tune. Lola wanted to enjoy the moment but she was on a mission. She scanned the scene, trying to decide if someone was in charge. And that’s when Blue began to wander off. “Blue.” He paid her no mind so she hollered. “Blue!”