Neff suddenly had a thought. “Sparky, put the tapper tip in your mouth. Get it wet.”
I’ll try anything. He stuck it in. “Blahh!” He jerked it out. Tastes like s.... Wait. Give it a chance. He jammed it back in. The bough loosened. Whoa, okay.
He shoved the knife into his shirt and pulled the tip from his mouth. He curled up again. He put the tip back in. He unwound until he was level with Notch.
“Cmon, hep me geh ou’a hr,” panted Notch.
“I’m working on it,” said Sparky, wetting the tip just enough to swing in tandem with Notch. Notch was balled up on his back, knees to his chest, face up. Sparky, still upright, grabbed hold of Notch’s coil. “Where’s the end?”
“Bhind m hed, I thnk. Can’t reach.”
“Okay, just....” said Sparky, his eyes suddenly drawn upward. Something was climbing headfirst down Notch’s branch. Willow leopard! “Uh, oh. Hold on,” said Sparky, spitting.
“Whaa?”
“Tell you in a minute. Just drool. A lot. As much as you can.”
Notch gurgled. Saliva ran across his cheek and down his neck. The tapper slipped from behind his head and followed the line of drool toward his mouth. A hook grabbed his ear. Another his hair. The third went up his nose. “Ow!” The tapper darted into his mouth. “Iss in my mouf,” gasped Notch.
“Keep drooling. We got company.”
“Whaa?”
“Sparky!” screamed Neff, seeing the cat for the first time, her hands to her face, “No, no, no, no....”
“I’ll be right back,” said Sparky. He swung away from Notch and corkscrewed up toward the cat. “Here kitty, kitty, kitty,” he sang.
The beast paused and glared, pupils wide.
“Looky, prey on a string,” teased Sparky, rising past the animal. You cats are so predictable. He spit on the tapper and dropped. The beast clawed at him as he passed.
Sparky looked for Notch. Nearly down. One more time. He held the tip away and curled upward. A claw clipped his boot. Too close. Time to drool and drop, big time. He jammed the tip into his mouth and slobbered. The coil quivered and dropped. Sparky spiraled downward.
The cat scrambled down Notch’s branch, staying parallel with Sparky.
Notch hit the ground and rolled away. The branch began to curl back up. The feline saw it coming and tried to climb away, but too late. The coil caught the cat and rolled it upward.
Sparky hit the mat, let go and looked up.
The coil slowed to a stop. The cat poked a paw out and started to shred the coil.
“Will it come after us?” asked Notch.
“Probably not,” said Neff. “Leopards are afraid of us people, when we’re standing...at least on Earth, anyway.”
Notch, drenched with drool and shaking with nerves, said, “I felt like catnip.” He looked at Sparky, “Thanks.”
“No problem,” said Sparky, “but it was Neff who said to get the tapper wet, not me. If she hadn’t figured it out, we’d both been catnip.”
“Thanks,” said Notch.
She nodded. I didn’t figure it out. It just came to me.
The three headed away.
Notch looked back once. The cat was staring at him, expressionless, tail twitching, licking its paws. A moment later, it faded into the treetops. Freaky.
Neff followed Sparky. The mildew from the watery mat and the scent of the willows filled her nostrils. The soft swish of the boughs and the low moan of the breeze made her dreamy. Suddenly, that feeling of being watched came over her again. She looked around, but saw only a mass of swaying green.
They came to the edge of the willowy woods. A wall of greenery blocked their way. They paused to take a drink before pushing through.
“I’m out of water,” said Notch, shaking his bottle.
“Me too, almost,” said Neff, taking the last sip.
“Me three,” said Sparky. He studied the stand of plants before him. They had round bottoms and long, narrow stalks topped by umbrella hats of palm-like leaves, splaying outward, rattling in the breeze.
Barrel bottoms, like cactuses, thought Sparky. Maybe.... He grasped a stalk and pulled. The entire plant slid from the damp soil. Sparky took out his knife and cut off the stalk. He lifted the barrel. Water spilled out. He put it to his mouth. Water poured over his face. He drank, coughed, laughed, and drank again. Then he lowered the natural vessel and waited. “No reaction.”
He handed it to Neff, “Try.”
She gulped. “It’s sweet.” Better not be poisonous. She waited a moment. Her stomach didn’t hurt.
She shared it with Notch. Sparky pulled out another plant.
The three quenched their thirsts and filled their bottles.
Neff stuck the empty bottoms back in their holes and gently packed the wet soil around them. Always leave things like you found them, kind of. And never waste what’s left. She picked up a palm-like top and placed it upside down on her head. “Sun hat,” she said.
They pushed through the plants and climbed a hillside. They found a clearing near the top. Neff dropped her backpack and lay back in the sun, her new palm hat over her face. The aroma of dry grass and warmth of the higher ground made her sleepy.
She lolled for another minute, then noticed the sun. It was low in the sky. She sat up. “The sun’s going to go down soon.” She longed for her bed; safe, warm and cozy. She felt like she’d never sleep in it again. “We should find a safe place for the night.”
“Yeah,” said Sparky. “Some place warm. I saw smoke up in the rocks.” He pointed through the trees. “Could be lava. Maybe we can use it to make a fire.”
They headed up.
Notch trailed behind. If we make a fire, we can be seen. That might not be good.
CHAPTER 15
Snowsnake
THE SNOW FROM THE SWIRL DRIFTED across the cave floor towards Sandy’s feet.
“What are you doing?” she shouted, backing further into the tunnel. “What do you want? Bring back my friends, you...”
Suddenly, the drift burst open. A serpent the size of a boa wriggled out and shook off the snow. The beast was covered with a coat of shaggy white fur. It raised its huge adder-like head and hissed so loudly it hurt Sandy’s ears.
Snowsnake! She stumbled backward, terrified, her ski boots skidding on the melt. “Mark,” she shrieked. “Mark!”
The beast undulated toward her, its beady black eyes leering under hairy white brows, its purple, three-forked tongue flicking from a bearded mouth, its hot breath so foul, Sandy gagged.
Terrified of turning away, she shuffled backward, holding her pack up like a shield with one hand, feeling behind herself with the other. “Get away!” she screeched.
The serpent suddenly drew back its head and bared long fangs. It’s going to strike! Sandy shoved her backpack at it. The lunging snake hit the pack. It swayed for a moment, woozy, mouth open. Sandy swung the pack again.
The webbing of her bottle pocket snagged a fang. She pulled. It was stuck. The snake squirmed, shaking its head, pulling the pack along with it. Sandy hung on.
“Let go, you jerk!”
The swirl grabbed the snake’s tail and pulled.
The snake slid backwards.
Sandy tugged. “That’s my backpack. Let go, you...ugly...creep.” Her foot slipped. She fell. She rolled to her stomach. A shoulder strap was twisted around her right arm. She tried to free it with her left hand. It was too tight.
“You won’t...get...my...pack!” she gritted, sliding with the snake, losing ground, the skiyaks and poles slipping with her. She grabbed a pole and whacked the snake between the eyes.
It stopped wriggling. It slid slowly away, glaring into her eyes, its fang still caught, its forked tongue flicking, tasting her scent.
She smacked it again.
The long body rolled ove
r, freeing the fang from the backpack. Sandy dropped the pole, and watched the snake disappear into the swirl like a piece of spaghetti. “Sluurrp”.
She scrambled backwards, struggling to free her arm from the strap. But then, suddenly, the swirl leapt toward her and grabbed her backpack.
“Nooo!” she cried.
The swirl pulled.
She swung her free hand at it. It seized her wrist.
“Mark!” she screamed, kicking frantically. “Markk....”
Her backpack and arm went in first, then her other arm, her head, her body and finally her legs, still kicking.
CHAPTER 16
Night Things Come!
“SMELLS LIKE MOUNT HOOD,” said Notch. The sulphur in the air reminded him of the dormant Oregon volcano—its snowpack the summer mecca for ski and snowboard camps. The ground rumbled.
“Feels like Hood, too,” he said.
He stepped onto a broad expanse of rocks and boulders, scattered with scraggy scrub trees, stunted saplings and thorn bushes. Tendrils of smoke rose here and there. The three spires glowed pink above the peaks to the east, reflecting the red sun sinking beyond the summits to the west. Shadows grew longer in the boulders above, and darker in the forest below, where birdsongs began to morf into moans and howls.
Neff shivered. “We have to hide,” she said, feeling more and more anxious. She searched the terrain above. For what? “Come on,” she said, starting up the rocky landscape ahead of Sparky and Notch.
Suddenly, a voice came from the trees below. “Night things come!”
Neff spun quickly, bug-eyed, mouth agape. But she saw nothing.
Neither did Notch.
Sparky saw. “That’s...it’s like...the Snowy...but it’s green.”
Then Neff and Notch saw it. A large, humanoid-like creature stepped from the trees, its face and clothing green as the forest.
It moved toward them, its face changing from green to tan and gray with green spots, matching the rock-scape around it. Its clothing turned from green to grayish green. “Night things make danger, for you, me.”
He’s changing color. Was he white before? Sparky asked, “Are you the one who...?”
“GZZZT,” said the creature, coming closer. “You leaked through to here,” sighed the strange being, pausing in front of them. “Big mistake. Now must try keep you safe...if can.”
“Where is this?” asked Sparky. It’s him. The Snowy!
“Not your world.” The strange being climbed past them. Notch, Neff and Sparky stepped back, letting him pass. “Come.” He continued up through the rocks. Sparky followed, eyes on his back. Neff and Notch trailed, dumbfounded.
“Is that the Snowy?” whispered Neff.
The Snowy looked back at her. She bit her lip.
Sparky nodded to her and turned to keep up.
“So, you really are an alien,” puffed Notch, trotting in the rear.
Neff cringed.
“Not here,” he replied. “You alien here.” He looked over his shoulder at Notch, “You, name?”
“Uh, Notch.”
Then, “You?”
“Neff.”
“You?”
“Sparky.”
“Who girl who not come?”
“Sandy,” said Sparky. “You saw her?”
“When you leak through, she cry. Then she go,” He continued up through the boulders.
“So Sandy’s safe?” said Neff, trying to keep up.
“But you not,” the creature said, searching the slope above.
Neff’s face fell. He scares me. I want to go home.
Notch, behind Neff, said, “When we saw your tracks, we started calling you ‘the Snowy’. You just asked our names. May I ask what we should, like, call you?”
“Do not know what you should like call me. Only you know what you should like call me.”
“I mean, what would you like us to call you?”
“Snowy good. I Snoflian. Snoflians live here on Snoflia. But not on this part. This part forbidden. Much danger. Must get out.”
I’m all for that. Notch looked around.
Snowy paused and stared at each of them. “You afraid. Me too.” He glanced back toward the forest, listened, then turned and picked up his pace. The three scrambled after.
“What was that spinning thing that took us here?” asked Notch.
“Wormwhirl.”
“You mean,” Notch passed by Neff, “like a wormhole, or gateway, or portal, or threshold?”
“All those,” said Snowy, scanning the boulders above, “but with a twist,” he smiled.
Sense of humor. Neff felt a little more relaxed, but only slightly.
Notch stepped past Sparky.
Snowy stopped abruptly. Notch nearly ran into him. Snowy looked back, surprised to see Notch, not Sparky. “But have problem,” he said. “Wormwhirl gone. May never find. You may never go back.”
Neff’s heart sank. “There must be something we can do,” she pleaded.
“We hide. Get to trading point.” He pointed beyond the three spires.
“So we were going the right way?” asked Notch.
“Most of time.”
“I saw some of this in a dream,” said Neff.
“What you see?” asked Snowy.
“Big mountains surrounding a gigantic island,” replied Neff. “Cliffs falling into the sea on the outside of the mountains, foothills on the inside. A massive jungle in the middle, like this one. A river. And a fiord to the sea.”
“You describe island with volcanic rim—rimland, like this. Many on Snoflia. You may be a seer,” said Snowy. “Special gift.”
Notch looked into Neff’s eyes. “A seer? Awesome.”
She smiled.
Sparky smirked. “Cool, Neff,” he said. “How about using your seer talents to find us a place for tonight?”
Neff glared, “It’s not like I can flick a switch! It works when I don’t try to make it work.”
Sparky’s smirk faded. “Sorry,” he said.
Snowy stared at him for a moment, then continued up through the rocks. The three followed, alternately watching where they stepped and scanning ahead.
“Lava up here,” Snowy pointed. “We make fire.”
“That’s what Sparky said,” muttered Notch.
Sparky shrugged.
“But you said we have to hide?” asked Notch. “If we make a fire, won’t someone see us?”
“Hope not,” said Snowy.
CHAPTER 17
A Fire No One Can See
“FIND CAVE OR HOLLOW PLACE,” said Snowy, pointing uphill. “Much danger when sun go away,” he said, glancing back at the forest.
The four spread out and climbed, searching through the boulders. Neff had an impulse to go further left. She cut across the slope and found a shale shelf jutting from the hillside, under it a hollow between two monstrous stones.
“Hey, guys, a cave...kind of,” she shouted.
“This good,” said Snowy, approaching.
“You did your seer thing,” smiled Sparky, giving Neff a high five.
“Must get lam leaves,” said Snowy.
He pointed to a big plant squatting in a nearby depression. Amber colored leaves shaped like giant tears circled a single, broad trunk; the leaves were four feet wide and seven feet long with curled tips and sturdy stems.
Snowy and Sparky cut off a dozen of the live lam leaves, while Notch and Neff gathered a stack of the dead ones from beneath the bush. They leaned the live leaves two deep across the front of the hollow from boulder-to-boulder, shiny tops inward to reflect heat from the fire. Then they secured the tips to the shelf above and anchored the stems to the ground with volcanic rocks. The open spaces between the tips would allow the smoke to escape. Next, they covered the floor
of the hollow with fresh lam leaves, soft bottoms up. Finally, they rolled the dead ones into big cigars to feed the flame.
Snowy grabbed one. “Now, make fire.” They followed him outside. The sun was sinking behind the mountain rim. His skin began to darken.
Blending. Neff glanced at the darkening sky. “Look!” she exclaimed. “Two moons. There are two moons.”
“Big moon, little moon,” said Snowy. “Little moon soon pass big. Wait here.” He carried the leaf to a trickle of red-hot lava, lit the end, took it into the hut, and started the blaze.
Neff, Notch and Sparky joined him. They watched the blaze grow, mesmerized at first.
“Can we go watch the moons?” Neff asked.
“You watch. I do fire.”
The three ducked outside. A red afterglow framed the black outline of the mountain rim. Stars glittered in the blue-black sky. The little moon, glistening pale pink, was halfway across the sky, gaining on the big orange moon.
“They’re beautiful,” said Neff.
“I can see the small one moving,” said Sparky.
“Me too,” said Notch. He shook his head. “No one will ever believe this, if we ever get to tell them!”
Suddenly, Neff felt sad, helpless, afraid. She took hold of Sparky’s hand, then Notch’s. They glanced at her then watched the moons. Lost somewhere in space, they were comforted by each other’s touch.
“Howling’s louder,” said Sparky, peering at the forest below.
“Let’s go in,” said Neff.
Snowy was sitting on the left side of the makeshift hut, facing the fire. Sparky sat down opposite him. Neff and Notch sat between them, their backs to the wall. They were silent for a while watching the flames.
Then Notch broke the silence. “Could you tell us who lives here?”
“Could.” Silence.
“I mean,” said Notch, “would you please tell us?”
“Lowconz live on last light mountains.” He motioned toward the sunset. “Warrior tribe. Rule Lowconzia. Scavenids and Trappids live here.” He patted the ground. “Scavenids collect things dead, lost or left, for trade. We not worry about Scavenids. We worry about Trappids. They collect living things, like you, me, beasts. Sell them to Lowconz, and to sea pirates for slaves, playthings, or for quarry in hunting games. Rare things sell for more.”
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