The International Yeti Collective

by Paul Mason

  Jack gripped the goat meat between his teeth and began gnawing. He just about managed to tear off a chunk and his face warped and twisted as he chewed.

  “That’s a wrap,” said Ana finally.

  “Yaargh!” Jack spat the goat meat on to the ground. “I told you to stop as soon as I put that meat to my lips!” He glared at Ana and took a swig of water from the bottle on his belt. “All right,” he hissed. “Next shot. I’m talking to camera when I hear a noise in the trees. I give chase with you close by. Got it?”

  “Got it,” said Walker.

  “Ella, can you throw a stone off camera?” said Jack. “Make it a big stone, with a big crash. We want a good sense of danger.”

  Ella frowned. “Really?”

  “Just a little artistic licence. All part of the show,” said Jack.

  *

  Up in his bush, Tick couldn’t stop staring. These humans were the strangest things he’d ever seen. Even weirder than the giant toadstool with red spots he’d once found growing in the cesspit, which exploded into an incredible mess when he touched it. Thinking of the toadstool made Tick’s stomach growl. He reached into his bag and took a handful of mulberries, nibbling as he watched.

  Tick had no idea what the humans were doing – what the black thing was that one of them had perched on his shoulder like a vulture, or why the human silverback was playing hiding games. Tick could tell he was the silverback. The long, silver, shiny hair – much more magnificent than the others – the way he thrust out his chest, had the largest cocoon, and ordered the others about. Tick didn’t care for the way he bellowed at one of the yak when it grazed too close to their cocoons. Clearly, he and the pebble-nose girl were different kinds of human.

  Then, from behind Tick’s head, there was a rustle in the leaves. Before he could turn, thick fingers wrapped themselves round his throat and took hold, and another hand clamped over his mouth. Tick’s heart pounded; the hair along his back stood up. The strong hands stayed firm and he could feel fingers boring into the back of his head.

  “Don’t move!”

  Tick froze, his toes clenching the ground. There was only one yeti with a voice like that.

  “Foolish yeti.” Tick could feel Dahl’s scorching breath and picture his lip curled in a sneer, yellow fangs bared. “Have they seen you?” Dahl’s voice was no louder than a whisper of breeze.

  Tick shook his head. He could still see the humans playing their game – the girl had picked up a river rock.

  Dahl’s hands relaxed a little. “Lucky for you. Now I’m going to let go and we are going to creep away without a sound. Then we’re going to take to the path and go far into the forest. We are not going to look back.”

  Dahl let go. Stepping backwards, Tick slid out of the bush and up the mountainside, finding the shadows of the forest. He turned to face the Guardian of the Sett.

  Dahl didn’t say a word. The clamped jaw, the widening nostrils, the shining wildness of his eyes said it all. Dahl raised a thick finger to his lips, picked up his Rumble Stick, and then glided through the trees, making no more sound than a butterfly’s wings.

  Tick hung his head and followed close behind. As they hurried along, a black shape attached to a tree on the side of the path buzzed and clicked.

  They slipped through the trees – Dahl was running now, his stride doubled in length – heading towards Jackal Canyon. Tick guessed Dahl would wait to make sure they were truly alone, then double back to the west and take the long path to the sett. Then Dahl would bring him to Greatrex and the Council.

  Tick felt ill. He knew well enough what they would do. There was only one punishment for getting this close to humans and it was written in stone. Tick held back his tears and tried to keep up with the Guardian who leaped through the forest ahead of him as nimble as an antelope. Dahl was right: he was a foolish, foolish yeti.

  “I’m sorry, Dahl,” Tick whispered. “Dahl, I’m sorry.” But the Guardian didn’t hear.

  Dahl slowed his pace as they approached the opening to Jackal Canyon, and climbed down into a hollow surrounded by thick greenery. Dahl knew the mountain better than most – he seemed to know where each boulder lay, every fallen tree. Tick was grateful they’d stopped. His legs burned.

  Dahl still hadn’t spoken a word to Tick, hadn’t even bothered to look at him. Now Dahl grunted and pointed to Tick’s mulberry sack. Tick opened it for him and the big yeti scooped out a handful, popping the berries into his mouth one by one, sighing as he did so.

  “You know what the Council will say, don’t you?” Dahl muttered across the hollow.

  “Does the Council even have to find out?” As soon as he’d spoken, Tick wished he could pull the words back into his mouth.

  Dahl’s face wrinkled in disgust. “I am the Guardian, holder of the Rumble Stick. If the Guardian doesn’t speak the truth, then who can? I ask you.”

  “Sorry, I…”

  “Of course I have to tell the elders, even if it sits uneasily with me,” Dahl snapped. “If we are not true to ourselves, young yeti, then we are nothing.”

  Tick had done well to hold back the tears, but now they began to escape. He wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand and sat there, sniffling. If only Mum and Dad were still here.

  “Why?” asked Dahl at last. “Why did you have to go to the river?”

  Tick lifted his head. Though Dahl’s face was still stony, the angry sparkle in his eyes had softened.

  “I needed to find out.”

  “Find out what?”

  “Why Mum did what she did all those years ago. She wouldn’t have had contact with humans for no reason.”

  Dahl chewed his fruit. “Her banishment feels like a lifetime ago,” he said at last. “Nothing good comes from mixing with humans.”

  “Then why did she?”

  Dahl shook his head. “What was said in the Council chambers never reached my ears – I was not the Guardian then, and your mother couldn’t bring herself to explain. She may have made a bad choice, Tick, but your mum had a good heart, no matter what else you’ve heard.” Dahl got to his feet. “Now we should be moving. We must get back to the sett before we find ourselves stuck out here on the mountain.”

  At the little camp by the river, the shoot came to a close. Ella darted about the clearing, helping Walker and Ana pack up their gear. She enjoyed being behind the scenes, watching how it all worked. Walker even let her peer through the lens a few times – it looked a whole lot different from how it did on TV.

  “Can we go and check the camera traps?” Ella suggested. She’d been itching to look all morning.

  Ana smiled. “I was going to have a cup of tea but seeing as you’re so keen…”

  Ella and Ana waded through the gurgling river and began looking for the cloth markers tied to the trees on the other side. At the first one, Ana crouched down and undid the clasp, taking out the camera. A quick scroll through the menu showed it hadn’t filmed anything. Ana restarted the camera and put it back in the box.

  They moved on to the next one. The file showed a long, slinky shape caught in infrared, bobbing in front of the lens, with a dark face and bright chest. The creature clambered on the tree trunk, shoving its nose all over the camera lens.

  “We’ve got something!” gasped Ella.

  “Look at that! A yellow-throated marten – pretty, isn’t she?” Ana pressed save and put the camera back. “Why don’t you check the one we put near the ledge, and I’ll finish down here?”

  Ella climbed further up the ridge and found the marker. She opened the black box, lifted the camera and ran the file.

  Then she almost dropped it.

  It was the shock of it. Her entire body felt cold. Ella pressed play again, and then again. Each time, her eyes widened a little more, her mouth became a little drier. Big hairy creatures rushing past the camera. Two of them – much bigger than humans – running on two legs, swinging long, thick arms. The way they moved was so smooth, so effortless. A bouncing gait that seemed t
o make them flow through the woods. Ella heard the blood thumping in her head. “Ana! Come quick!”

  Ana left her camera where it was and pushed her way along the ridge. “Something interesting?”

  “Uh-huh.” Ella gulped, pressing play on the camera.

  Ana’s mouth hung open. “What on earth?” She watched the file again, her eyes searching. “A bear? Some kind of primate?” she stammered at last.

  But Ella knew the creatures were no animal she’d ever seen before. One of them held a staff and the other carried what looked like a kind of bag. Ella hardly dared speak the words. “Are they yeti?”

  “We must think like scientists,” Ana insisted, replaying the video. “Study the evidence rather than jump to conclusions.”

  But Ella wasn’t watching the video any more. She got to her feet and looked into the forest. These were daylight images. What if they were still here, watching? She turned this way and that, eyes scanning the mountainside. She couldn’t see anything but there was a smell. A real stench. Like a barnyard that hadn’t been cleaned in ages.

  *

  Tick watched as Dahl looked deep into the woodland. The Guardian listened for a moment, and seemed satisfied that they were alone, then he climbed up and out of the hollow and coasted into the trees without a sound, heading towards the grey scab of rocks that cut through the forest below them.

  Tick had rarely come near Jackal Canyon – yeti avoided the place if they could and, in return, the jackals stayed clear of the sett. Jackals hunted in pairs, drifting through the forest, trailing anything that happened to cross their path – fledgling birds, helpless deer, trembling rats. “Beware the lone jackal,” went the saying, “or the bite of its partner your backside will feel.”

  Seldom did yeti ever fall prey to jackals. It had never happened in Tick’s lifetime, but every youngling knew by heart the tale of Rashe (he with no thought) who chose to ignore his mother’s words and went foraging near the canyon at dusk. Legend said his bones still lay about the rocks, bleached white by the sun. “You don’t want to end up like young Rashe, now do you?” many a parent threatened at dinnertime. “Eat up your slime and stop complaining.”

  He was safe as long as he was with Dahl, thought Tick as they reached the head of the canyon. No jackal in his right mind would dare take on the Guardian. A swing from the Rumble Stick and it would be over before it started. But, as they dropped down between the boulders, Tick spied a scattering of bones, like white twigs.

  The dusty path took them down into the shadows, where rock walls rose up on either side of them like a pair of giant jaws. Tick glanced from side to side, all the while keeping an eye on Dahl’s hairy back. He imagined he could see the glint of eyes in the dark hollows between the rocks. Even though a cold, harsh trial in front of the Council of Elders was all he had awaiting him back at the sett, Tick wanted out of the canyon as quick as his leathery feet could carry him.

  It was only when they’d reached the end of the canyon and were almost in the welcome arms of the trees ahead that the jackals chose to emerge, guarding the boulders on either side of the path. A pack of them, their fur brown like river sand.

  Dahl slowed his pace to a walk. Holding the Rumble Stick in both hands, he twirled it a few times so it cut through the air, just enough to make sure the jackals had seen it. Then, standing still, he lowered the staff to his side.

  “Don’t move. I’ll handle this,” he mumbled.

  The jackals parted to make way for a lone jackal the colour of gold, the fur on his muzzle flecked with grey – the alpha, assumed Tick. The jackal gazed down for a moment, eyeing up the yeti, before leaping down from one rock to another. Then he stood on the path, facing Dahl, back arched, with a jackal guard on either side. If he was the least bit troubled by the sight of the Rumble Stick in the hands of a giant yeti, it didn’t show.

  Now the alpha lifted his muzzle to the skies, letting out a long, low series of whines, punctuated here and there with the occasional high-pitched bark. Tick listened as the alpha growled about the peace of their canyon being broken, of unwelcome intruders, of the ill will between yeti and jackal. Tick watched Dahl’s face for any sign of movement, but the Guardian stood as still as if he was carved out of the stone of the canyon itself.

  Finally, when the jackal finished, Dahl cleared his throat.

  “I am Dahl, Guardian of the Sett, holder of the Rumble Stick, he who smells the fiercest.” Dahl’s words echoed down the canyon. “We mean you no quarrel. Human folk have come to the mountain, blocking our way home. It is for this that we have sought passage through your territory and disturbed your sleep. I ask that you let us pass, noble alpha, and we shall not look back, nor leave any sign that we have passed by. Hear me as I speak.”

  The hairs on Tick’s back began to bristle and his nostrils twitched in warning. Something wasn’t right. He turned his head just in time to see four more jackals emerge on the path behind them.

  “Dahl,” Tick hissed. But Dahl just raised his hand, keeping his eyes on the alpha.

  The jackal pack stood there for what felt to Tick like a lifetime. At last, the golden jackal bared his teeth in a terrible grin and seemed to chuckle. He gave a nod of his head in the direction of the others and the pack stepped backwards, away from the path.

  “Come,” Dahl gestured to Tick.

  But, as Dahl took a step forward and made to leave, the alpha jackal raised his leg in the air, arcing a stream of pee across the path – the stinking liquid almost catching Dahl on his foot.

  Dahl froze, eyes glaring, and Tick could hear the Guardian’s teeth grinding, the bones in his back cracking as he tensed with fury. One by one, the other jackals cocked their legs, until the soil on the path was streaked and damp.

  Dahl growled and let out a long, hot breath – Tick could almost taste the anger riding on it. Tick could tell Dahl was making a choice. Fight or walk. Then the Guardian nodded at the alpha, carefully stepped over the damp patch and carried on walking. Tick followed close behind.

  Even when they were deep in the trees – back in the safety of the forest – they could still hear the yapping laughter of the jackals carried on the breeze.

  On the other side of the mountain, in the safety of Jack’s tent, Ella ejected the memory card from the camera and gave it to Ana, who pushed it into the laptop. Apart from the hum of the computer, there was silence.

  The little ball spun in the middle of the screen and then, at last, a folder opened up. Ella prodded at the touchpad and the video began. They all leaned forward. Ella’s heart was beating so loudly she was sure the others could hear it.

  Finally Jack burst out, “Yeti! They’re yeti!”

  “This is huge,” said Walker, stroking his beard.

  “I still can’t believe we actually found something,” Ana murmured.

  Jack crowed. “I knew I was on the right track! All those months of searching have paid off. All those expeditions. Finally this is proof!”

  “Hold on now,” said Ana. “I don’t want us to be too swift in ruling out a species of undiscovered bear, which in itself would be fascinating.”

  “But what about the bag and the stick?” said Ella.

  Jack snorted. “Come on, Ana.”

  Ana shook her head. “I still think we’re reaching premature conclusions. Let’s get some more experts to weigh in on this. We should try to upload it to the studio server back home.”

  “No way!” Jack spluttered. “This needs handling carefully. Who knows what might happen to the clip? Someone might break the news while we’re stuck out here in the wilderness, and then what? No, Ana, I … we must be the ones to reveal the discovery.”

  Ella saw her ‘Girl Finds Yeti’ headline vanishing.

  “What do you suggest?” asked Ana.

  “OK, you want more evidence? More evidence that this really is yeti we’re dealing with? Fair enough – we’ll get some. But we’ll need tracking dogs and more equipment. I’ll call up with our GPS coordinates and get a choppe
r to drop in right away.”

  “Good call, Jack,” said Walker. “Whatever those creatures are, they would certainly have left a scent.”

  “I did smell something in the woods,” Ella agreed.

  Jack got up and paced the tent. “It’s too late in the day to set off now, I reckon. We’ll go as soon as we have the dogs. But we keep this to ourselves until I say so. No sat link, no messaging, no sharing photos, no getting in touch with the studio. Total blackout, got it?” ordered Jack. “We’ve made the most sensational find of the century, and I want to milk it.”

  “No worries,” said Walker, getting to his feet.

  “Sure, Jack,” said Ana, following the cameraman out of the tent.

  *

  With the others gone, Jack and Ella watched the camera clip one last time. Then Jack closed the laptop and grinned. “I can’t tell you how great this makes me feel, Ella. I’m going to be the first person in history to prove yeti exist. No one believed I would!”

  “I did,” said Ella.

  “It’s a shame old Ray Stevens isn’t around to see it – our discovery would have cleared his name.” Jack sighed, shaking his head. He went quiet for a moment, then his face brightened. “Never mind, the secret of the yeti will soon be out. This series is going to be massive, Ella. Week after week, the whole planet will be glued to their screens. No more hiding in the forest any longer for our hairy friends.” He reached into his rucksack and took out the satphone. “Now off you go. I need to call in the chopper.”

  Ella had a question for Uncle Jack on the tip of her tongue. A niggling doubt about the TV show and the yeti. But Jack started dialling, so she ducked out of the tent. Now wasn’t the time.

  *

  When they were inside the mountain with the boulder rolled back in place, Tick slumped against the wall of the tunnel, his legs weak and unsteady. A haze of worry and guilt wafted from his body. Now it was the turn of the other members of the collecting party to grumble and complain.