by Alan Skinner
‘Bye, Aunt Mag,’ she said.
‘Bye, Megan,’ said Aunt Mag. ‘We’ll be back soon.’ She felt the crisp morning air on her face and a deep happiness inside.
Megan looked at Brian. ‘Bye, Brian. You be careful, now.’
‘I will, Megan. Thank you.’
Megan took her seat and closed the door. She spun the bus round and waved to her friends as she headed back. Brian and Aunt Mag watched the bus make its way down the road. At the bend at the edge of the shops, they heard the toot of Megan’s horn and the answering toot of Home’s bus. Within moments they saw the little orange bus heading towards them.
No sooner had the bus stopped at the Common than they heard footsteps behind them. Coming down the road, packs on their back, were Copper and Dot.
‘We’re surrounded,’ observed Aunt Mag with dry good humour. ‘Caught like rats in a trap.’
Crimson and Grunge descended from the bus. The travellers greeted those they knew and welcomed those new to them. Aunt Mag decided she liked the look of her companions. The older Myrmidot was quiet, but Aunt Mag appreciated a person who didn’t waste words on things that didn’t need saying. The younger one seemed a bit in awe of her companions, but she had an open, intelligent face, and Aunt Mag sensed a steadiness about her. Though she had heard about them, she had not met Grunge and Crimson when they were in Beadleburg. She studied the amiable musician and thought that behind the casual air and occasional fumbling, there was a sharp intelligence. It was only Crimson that gave her pause. There was no doubting that Home’s fire officer was capable and resourceful. Yet there was something Aunt Mag sensed within Crimson that robbed her of the same steadiness that Aunt Mag had seen in Dot. Something that was out of place.
Whist appeared from the coffee house with the packs of food she had promised and placed them with the pile of provisions next to the bus. Following her were two of her kitchen staff, carrying mugs and pots of hot coffee.
‘You can’t set off without a coffee,’ Whist declared. ‘And here’s a picnic basket and a flask of coffee for later.’ She caught sight of Shift. ‘And mind you bring back my basket and flask, Shift. Don’t go leaving it sitting by the side of the road or rolling around in that bus of yours.’
Shift laughed and promised he’d bring them back safe and sound. Dot listened to Shift’s laugh. It was a guileless, honest laugh. ‘He laughs not because things are funny,’ she thought, ‘but because everything feels good to him.’ She’d never felt like that and she was confused to find that she felt a small twinge of envy for the happy Muddle.
Suddenly, her heart leapt into her throat and then nosedived into her stomach. Eyes wide and fixed on the Common, she told herself not to run.
‘Copper!’ she called in a low voice. ‘Copper!’
Copper looked. He saw Dot staring across the Common.
‘Copper!’ she said again, more urgently. Her voice was steady but he could hear the fear in it. He looked towards the Common but a breeze had swirled the mist, hiding whatever frightened the young girl.
The others became aware that something was wrong. Aunt Mag, seeing Dot standing stock-still, staring at the Common, was not about to leave the frightened apprentice. She moved calmly to Dot’s side and laid a reassuring hand on her arm, and stared into the mist.
Dot pointed straight ahead. A large dark shape broke through the mist, heading straight for them. It came slowly but there was no doubt that its path was set straight for the travellers. On it came, the clinging mist obscuring its shape, except for the glinting light in two round eyes. Closer, now, its huge head and then its body took form.
Crimson placed a hand on Dot’s head. ‘It’s OK,’ she said softly. ‘There’s nothing to be afraid of.’
‘Good morning, Miniver,’ said Grunge.
The bear approached and growled. Dot could have sworn that it answered Grunge with that growl.
Miniver stopped in front of Crimson and Dot.
‘Dot, this is our friend, Miniver.’
Bewildered, Dot looked from Miniver to Crimson and then back again.
Miniver made a low, gentle noise and pressed her nose against Dot’s cheek.
‘Good morning, Dot,’ said Miniver in her gentlest growl. ‘I didn’t mean to frighten you.’
At that moment, Dot felt more foolish and embarrassed than she had ever done in her life, and she wished she’d never agreed to come on this horrible trip. Determined not to cry, she looked at the ground and waited for the others to laugh at her foolishness. The laughter never came. She raised her head and glanced at the faces of her companions. Not on any of them did she see a trace of laughter or mockery. Then Grunge gave her a small smile and a wink. Her heart stopped pounding but she still felt silly and foolish.
‘I’m sorry, Dot,’ said Copper. ‘It’s my fault. I should have told you about Miniver. She’s agreed to pull the sledge.’ Dot had never seen Copper look ashamed before.
Dot grimaced and said, ‘It’s all right, Copper. Even if you had, I probably still would have been frightened. I didn’t realise bears could be so big.’ She looked at Miniver. ‘I’m sorry, Miniver. I didn’t mean to be rude. I just wasn’t expecting you.’
‘Don’t blame yourself, Dot.’ Miniver sat on her haunches and raised a front paw and scratched behind her ear. Dot noticed she had a very large bag on a cord around her neck. ‘What they’re doing bringing along a youngster like you, I don’t know. If they hadn’t asked me to come, I’d have come anyway, to make sure someone looked after you.’
‘Don’t fuss, Miniver,’ said Crimson. ‘Copper is quite capable of looking after Dot. Though,’ Crimson smiled at Dot, ‘I dare say she doesn’t need much looking after.’
‘Hmmm,’ growled Miniver, ‘perhaps you’re right, but I’ll keep an eye on her all the same.’ She nudged Dot’s arm. ‘Come on, let’s see what food they’re bringing.’
‘I have a feeling,’ said Aunt Mag, ‘that Miniver would make a very fine Aunt Mag.’
They walked over to the bus. Grunge stood next to Brian, looking at the supplies. Whist had provided ten days’ food for each of the travellers. Nothing but some ropes, shovels, picks and Copper’s small toolbox would go on the sledge. Miniver would not be asked to haul a heavy sledge both up the mountain and back down again. Each traveller would have to carry their own supplies.
Brian looked at his companions. ‘Well, we’d best get going.’
The travellers finished loading the supplies then filed onto the bus. Grunge opened the emergency door at the rear and Miniver clambered aboard. Before he could close the door, Dot darted inside and sat next to the bear.
With all his passengers on board, Shift pulled a lever and the door whooshed closed. Shift put the bus in gear and headed north. Behind them, Whist stood on the road, waving until she lost sight of the little orange bus.
*
The road to Bourne Bridge was rarely travelled except by foot or bicycle. It was an older-style road, made of large flat blocks of stone. The ripples in the stones and the shallow grooves of mortar created a constant hum and the occasional rattle. Copper glanced with a worried frown at the solar unit on top of the tank. He wondered if the vibrations would damage its delicate panels. Every once in a while, as he did now, Copper would lay his hand flat on the panels, feeling the strength of the vibrations. He didn’t hear Dot come up behind him.
‘Do the Muddles really understand the animals, Copper?’ Dot spoke softly, not wishing the others to hear.
For the first hour, Dot had sat with Miniver. Copper watched as she talked to the bear. He had never seen Dot talk to anyone, and had rarely heard her say more than four or five words at one time. Dot told the bear about Forge, about Copper, about her apprenticeship, and how she liked making things. Although she couldn’t understand what Miniver was saying, Dot was sure the bear could understand her, and Miniver’s low growls were her responses. They had been interrupted by Grunge, who wanted Miniver to try the harness before they got to the bridge.
‘I know Miniver understands what I’m saying.’
Copper glanced at the rear of the bus where Grunge and Miniver were talking.
‘Well, animals aren’t supposed to be able to think and talk. I’m used to seeing animals as, well…’ Copper searched for the right word but he couldn’t find it, ‘…servants, sort of. Not equals. Yet, looking at those two, I do believe it.’
‘Our animals don’t talk. I mean, I thought maybe they do and we don’t know how to understand them, but it’s never felt like it did just now when I talked to Miniver.’
‘Miniver, Calamity and all the other animals in Muddlemarsh aren’t quite like our animals. They’re Muddles, too, Dot.’
Dot looked at Grunge and Miniver. Grunge was adjusting the leather harness he had placed on her shoulders. Miniver made rumbling growls and Grunge made another adjustment. She could hear the flow of Grunge’s words and Miniver’s growls.
‘Have you ever seen it when the Muddles change? When they, you know, jumble?’
‘Mix. They call it the Mix. No, I’ve never seen it.’
‘Maybe it’s something that happens when they mix. I know people only mix with people and animals mix with animals, but maybe there’s something else that mixes besides just bodies,’ wondered Dot.
Copper looked at Dot. He’d never thought of that. He reflected on how often his young apprentice surprised him.
‘I think you may be right, Dot.’
Dot sighed. ‘I wish I could understand animals the way Grunge does.’
‘There’s a price for everything, Dot. Sometimes the price is high and sometimes you get a bargain. Did you ever dream you could fly? When you were younger, you know, did you want to be able to lift your arms and find yourself soaring over the houses, looking down and seeing everybody else still on the ground?’
The sadness that Copper had often seen in her eyes returned. ‘Yes, often, particularly after …’ Dot remembered back to a certain time when it seemed that all she wanted to do was lift her arms and fly far away. Away from everyone. Away from herself. ‘I still do, sometimes.’
‘Would you still want to be able to fly if it meant that you were different? I mean, really different. If you could no longer fix things or understand how things work the way you do now?’
‘No, I suppose not. But it’s nice thinking about it.’
‘Yes, it is. But it’s the difference between dreaming for something and wishing for something. We dream of something because we want to go somewhere. We wish for something because we want to escape from here.’
Dot lowered her face. ‘I used to wish very hard. But now … not so hard.’
The young apprentice raised her head and gazed out at the fields of Muddlemarsh as they slipped past.
‘Anyone for cake?’ called Aunt Mag. She was sitting in the front seat with Whist’s picnic basket open on her lap. ‘One of Whist’s finest, Shift swears. Honey cake.’
Miniver’s yes beat everyone else’s by a good country mile.
The bus rolled on through the Land. For the first hour they had seen the coffee fields and scattered houses, but these passed behind them and the road wound through quiet valleys and unspoiled forests. Muddles seldom came here, for it was a long way to come on a bicycle. Every so often, on a Sunday when he and the bus weren’t working, Shift would fill the bus and a group of Muddles would come for the long drive. Now, the only noises in the forest were its own.
The forest around them diminished, changing into hilly, rock-strewn ground as they neared the river. Straight ahead, the road disappeared into the steep cutting that marked the approach to Bourne Bridge.
‘This is where the patrol will be, waiting in case she returns,’ said Grunge.
‘They’ll be here in two days. The soonest she could get back is in three days, but to be on the safe side they’ll come a day early,’ added Brian.
Of all the travellers, only Copper had seen Bourne Bridge before. As they entered into the shadow of the cutting, they could see the bridge in the distance. The morning sun fell full on its eastern side, making the stones glow.
‘Goodness me!’ whispered Aunt Mag.
Crimson felt her stomach knot as she looked at the massive structure. She felt a growing sensation of uneasiness that made her grip the back of the seat in front of her until her hands ached.
The bus drove through the cutting, its steep sides preventing the sun from entering. No one took their eyes from the bridge. The travellers watched it grow as the bus drew closer. The huge supports fixed into the rock face at either end of the bridge made it look like a beast chained across the gorge.
On the far side of the bridge, Grunge could see the road fade into the trees and rocks. ‘Shift, it looks like the road ends just beyond the bridge. Take us across and we’ll get off on the other side.’
‘Sure, Grunge.’ Shift still smiled, though his eyes were touched with wonder. ‘Seriously big, isn’t it? I’d never have bothered driving up here before. Wish I had. It’s so big!’
They could tell the bridge was old. It had the feel of something ancient, something permanent. Yet it was remarkably unworn. The stone road was smooth and the walls were marked only by dirt and wind. The sides of the bridge were too high to see down into the gorge but as they drove over they could see the Salvation River snake down the hills to the east and the jagged cliffs at the top of the gorge to the west.
‘It must have taken them years and years to build this,’ said Dot in awe. ‘Who built this, Copper?’
‘No one’s sure, Dot.’ Copper gazed at the walls of the bridge through the window. ‘I’ve never been able to figure out whether it was a bridge into the Land, or out of it.’
The bus left the bridge on the north side of the gorge. Crimson felt a jolt in her chest. The knot in her stomach tightened and a feeling of weariness spread itself over her. She was glad she was sitting down for she was sure she would have fallen if she’d been standing. She put both hands on the back of the seat in front of her again and rested her head on the backs of her hands.
Shift stopped the bus a couple of hundred metres from the end of the bridge. A few metres in front of the bus, the road faded into rocks and trees. Somewhere in those rocks and trees they would have to find a way into the High Mountains.
As the travellers hoisted their packs, Crimson felt the weariness fade. The knot in her stomach unravelled and the weight lifted from her chest. She looked at her companions. Miniver had been harnessed and stood waiting in front of the sledge, Dot close by her. The others were ready and she could sense their eagerness to begin the trek.
‘I’ll be back this time in eight days,’ said Shift.
They said their goodbyes and watched the bus wheel around and head back to Home. No one moved until it had disappeared beyond the dark cutting. Then, securing their packs, they set off east along the river, to find a path into the mountains.
*
The undergrowth was sparse, and the ground easy for the sledge to travel. It was rocky, but they were small, scattered rocks and the thick tyres Copper had put on the sledge rolled comfortably over them. The ascent was still gentle and Miniver showed no signs of difficulty in pulling her load.
It had taken them more than two hours, skirting the mountain along the bank of the river, to find a place where the trees thinned and the rocks didn’t bar their way. They found a cleft in the rocks, a scar in the hillside that ran slowly upward and into the heart of the mountains. It wasn’t really a trail, just a slash in the surface of the mountain where the trees didn’t grow and the rocks hadn’t pushed their way up through the soil. It was just wide enough for the sledge and for the travellers to walk two abreast. Crimson and Brian walked in front, the rotund Beadle working hard to keep pace. Behind them came Aunt Mag and Copper, then Miniver and the sledge, with Dot walking next to the
bear. Since the bridge, the young Myrmidot hadn’t left the bear’s side. At the rear, playing his harmonica, came Grunge.
They had stopped to catch their breath and eat their first meal of the journey another two hours after finding the trail. No one had wanted to stop once they started upward. It seemed too soon after feeling that they had found a way into the mountain. At a point where the trail widened into a large circle, they halted and drew some food from their packs.
As the companions sat on rocks scattered at the edge of the circle, they looked back along the path they had travelled. They were surprised at how high they had already climbed.
The hills and trees had long since hidden Bourne Bridge from view, but between the trees they caught glimpses of the Salvation River far beneath them. Beyond that stretched the gentle green hills and valleys of the Land.
Grunge walked to the edge of the circle and looked down on the countryside that stretched away before them.
‘That’ll still be Muddlemarsh,’ said Copper, coming up behind him. Copper ate another bite of his sandwich and admired the forested hills below. ‘We must have travelled seven or eight kilometres east from the bridge before starting upward.’
‘From Muddlemarsh, the High Mountains seemed like a foreign place, a different land. But they’re not, are they?’ Grunge said, his voice soft and thoughtful. Copper just nodded in agreement.
From his pocket, Grunge took out his harmonica. He put it to his mouth and played four notes, low on the scale. He paused and then played the same four notes again. He took the harmonica from his lips and gave Copper a grin. ‘I’m still learning,’ he said. ‘But that’s the first time I’ve ever played the same notes twice; you know, exactly the same.’
Grunge walked back to the others. Still looking across the forests and hills below, Copper heard Grunge blow his harmonica again. The wind whisked the music away before Copper could be sure but he could’ve sworn that Grunge had found a fifth note.
They finished their meal and throughout the afternoon, in the warm late-summer sun, they continued to make their way up the mountain. It became apparent as they followed the smoother terrain that they would have to change their course. They had gradually turned due north, following the easier ground, and the snowfield lay to the north-east.