by Erin Hunter
“Murdered!” The leader’s roar rose above the others. “The crocodiles dared to murder Great Mother!”
Moon clutched Sky’s tail with his trunk. “What are they going to do?”
“I don’t know.” Sky’s heart pounded. Something awful was about to happen, she knew.
The large-eared hippo splashed into the shallows. On the muddy bank of a distant bay sprawled a bask of ten or more crocodiles. One yawned, displaying ferocious teeth, then snapped its jaws shut.
“We’ll show them what happens to Codebreakers,” the hippo grunted. “I don’t care if they don’t follow it—they’re going to pay for what they’ve done!”
The hippos surged into the lake, flank muscles rippling, sending up showers of water. Nostrils flaring with angry snorts, they paddled swiftly toward the crocs.
“Sky!” cried Moon. “What’re they doing?”
Rain broke from the line of elephants and cantered toward the shore. “Stop!” she trumpeted after the hippos.
Her cry was lost in the rattle of rain on the lake surface, and the hippos took no notice anyway. They were almost at the far bay now, lunging out of the water in a thunder of feet toward the crocodiles. Grinning, some of the crocs darted into the water and slid beneath the surface, but one was slower than the others.
Lifting her long head, twisting to eye the threat, she was too late. The hippo leader was already on her, smashing his huge head into her shoulder. Taken by surprise, she flipped onto her scaly back, exposing her creamy underbelly. She hissed a curse in Sandtongue and writhed to escape, but the hippo lunged and snapped his vast jaws into her belly.
The crocodile flailed her thick tail, making a hideous screaming sound, but the hippo hung grimly on. He heaved backward, staggering almost onto his rump, and dragged her with him beneath the surface.
The lake erupted in a churning froth of foam. The croc’s tail surfaced, slashing wildly; then, for a moment, her snapping head was visible too. But when she was hauled under once more, the foaming water turned red. As Sky watched in horror, the crocodile’s twitching corpse floated to the surface, her belly shredded and bloody. Surfacing, the hippo opened his savage jaws and bellowed in victory. His pod took up the cry, their roars resounding across the lake.
At a distance the rest of the doomed croc’s bask drifted, staring at the carnage with cold, stunned eyes.
Horrified, Sky shouldered through the grown ones. “It’s not right!” she cried. “They’re breaking the Code!” Tugging free from Moon’s trunk, she bolted for the shore.
“Sky, no!” Comet shouted, but she kept running.
Fired up by their leader’s successful kill, the hippos were harrying the rest of the bask. Some of the crocs met the challenge head-on, fearsome jaws gaping in defiance before they dived under; others hauled themselves from the water, racing across the sand on their stumpy legs. From the churning lake came an unearthly shriek, and another limp crocodile corpse drifted to the surface.
“Stop!” Splashing into the water, Sky raised her trunk and blared in horror, “Stop!”
The mud beneath her feet was soft and sucking. She wobbled desperately, lurched forward, and suddenly the lake bed was gone. Sky plunged beneath the surface, her gasp of horror stifled by a trunkful of murky lake water. Half-blind and choking, she kicked frantically.
Her feet touched the bottom. Shoving against the yielding mud, she broke into the air once more, gasping and spluttering. The hippos stared at her.
“Great Mother wouldn’t want this,” she cried to them, coughing. “She—she always defended the Code.” Her mouth filled with water again and she spat it out, her legs still flailing. “The Code mattered to her more than anything! Please, you must stop!”
“And let these scum get away with killing her?” grunted one of the hippos, jerking its head at the crocs. “Maybe you elephants think that’s okay, but we don’t.”
“Please!” begged Sky, but the hippos twisted in the water, turning their backs on her. The remaining crocodiles were lurching up the muddy bank, scrambling over one another in their dash for safety; the hippos charged in pursuit, thundering up the bank and into the dense foliage beyond. With the battle moving to the land, the lake calmed and stilled quickly, its surface pitted only by the lashing rain. But where hippos and crocodiles had fought, Sky saw a dark stain rise and spread.
Feeling sick, Sky splashed back to the herd. Is this what life will be like without Great Mother? Her chest ached with sadness as her family trotted to meet her. She stopped. Their faces held a strange, startled curiosity.
“Was I wrong?” she asked miserably. “I know it was reckless, but I had to try to stop them!”
“No, of course it wasn’t wrong.” Rain exchanged a glance with the others. “That was very brave—Great Mother would have been so proud of you. But, Sky . . .” She took a deep breath. “We need to talk.”
Sky felt a shiver of unease. “What about?”
“Oh, young one.” Rain folded her mottled trunk around Sky and pulled her close. “I know that your heart is still heavy with grief. All of us miss Great Mother desperately. But we must look to the future.”
Moon wriggled between Sky and his mother Star. “Rain, are you our new Great Mother?”
Rain shook her head. “The Great Spirit hasn’t chosen me, little one. But Bravelands does need a new Great Parent—and desperately.”
Once again, all the grown ones were studying Sky, their faces thoughtful. She didn’t like it.
“Your vision about the watering hole came true,” Comet told her softly. “You knew something terrible was going to happen, and it did.”
“You can read the bones of all creatures, not just elephants,” added Star, in her singsong voice. “Only Great Mother could do that.”
A jolt of shock went through Sky. “You think I’m the new Great Mother?” Aghast, she shrank backward. “I can’t be. I’m not!”
Rain patted her gently. “It’s true that we don’t know for sure. And you are young, Sky; so very young. But all the signs are telling us one thing: that the Great Spirit has settled in you.”
The other elephants murmured in agreement.
“It’s a huge burden for you to bear,” said Rain, “we know that. But we will all help you.”
Sky could feel her heart thumping in her chest, and her pulse in her throat and ears. Nothing in her had changed. Surely she would recognize anything new inside her, other than just Sky?
“But the Great Spirit hasn’t passed to me,” she whispered. “I know it hasn’t. Because—Aunt Rain, Aunt Comet—” She hesitated, then blurted, “I can’t feel it!”
Gently Rain pressed her head to Sky’s. “I know it’s hard. Great Mother should have had many more years, and you should have been able to grow up before your time came to succeed her. But Bravelands needs a Great Parent now. Please, Sky. We need you.”
Sky stared around at her family, her throat dry. Every elephant’s face was bright with hope—a hope Sky knew she couldn’t fulfill.
Moon rubbed his bristly cheek against her flank, as if he was comforting her again. Her little cousin, at least, seemed to understand how she felt.
But how could she show the others how wrong they were?
CHAPTER 4
The trees gave little shelter from the downpour; drenched, they showered water onto the baboons at even a glancing touch. At the head of the troop with the other Strongbranches, Thorn splashed a hesitant paw into another muddy puddle; no, it was too deep. He retreated, testing the edges for an easier way around. They were all going to be soaked; it was just a question of how soaked. Some of these pools were more treacherous than they looked, and if no babies or old ones drowned on this dismal trek, thought Thorn, they’d be lucky.
Of the six Strongbranches, only four were negotiating the muddy forest; Grass and Fly Middleleaf had veered off to look for any prey that hadn’t fled for shelter. Brightforest Troop would need to be well nourished for the next few days: the search for a new camp w
as going to be hard and long.
“Ow,” complained Worm Strongbranch, who was limping slightly.
“Poor you,” sympathized Frog Strongbranch. She was tallest of them all and looked down at Worm with concern. “Does that tarantula bite still hurt?”
“It really does,” grunted Worm. “I wish it had bitten my sister. She deserves it.”
“Well, at least you completed your Feat,” grumbled Fang Strongbranch. “When are you doing yours, Thorn Middleleaf?”
Once Stinger thinks up something terrible, Thorn thought. He gritted his teeth. “Stinger said I had to pass a trial period first, didn’t he?”
“Because he thinks you’ll fail,” scoffed Fang.
“Maybe,” said Thorn. “But Stinger knows best. Until he decides differently, I’m a Strongbranch, just like you. Worm, you’d better see if there’s a way through that prickly scrub.”
“Go and look yourself, Middleleaf,” sneered Worm. “Maybe we’ll listen to you when you’ve actually done your Feat.”
“Mine was the hardest,” boasted Fang as he tore at some obstructing creepers. “I had to lift a boulder that was bigger than the Crown Stone.”
“Liar,” muttered Worm under her breath.
Frog shot her an anxious glance and spoke up loudly to drown her out. “Are you sure that’s right, Fang?”
“Absolutely!” Fang glared at Frog. “And what’s more, a baboon was sitting on top of it to make it even heavier.”
Frog bit her lip, but silently began to help Fang with the creepers; her gentle face looked nervous. Until joining the Strongbranches she had been a Deeproot, and Thorn wondered if she was feeling as out of place as he was. He glanced over his shoulder to where Mud was helping Beetle across a treacherously slippery log. I wish I could have Mud for company instead of this lot.
“We need to stop for a rest,” came Beetle’s cracked voice, sounding out of breath. “Many of us are tired.”
The baboons slumped down gratefully, shaking off rain, and mothers began to nurse and soothe their babies. Impatient and frustrated though he was, Thorn had to halt too. He was just beginning to scout for berries when Grass and Fly bounded from the undergrowth.
Despite their sodden fur, they were grinning. “Look what we’ve got!” announced Fly, and both of them held out paws full of fermented fruit. “Sweetpulp!”
“Ooh!” Worm brightened as she grabbed some from Grass. “Where did you find that?”
They exchanged a sly look. “Well, we didn’t find it as such,” admitted Fly with a smirk.
“Old Beetle had a stash of it in a hollow log near Tall Trees,” said Grass, popping a lump into his mouth and chewing on it. “We raided his supply.”
“That’s not really fair . . .” began Frog.
“What, when it was just going to rot away altogether?” pointed out Grass. “He didn’t have any more use for it.”
“We’ve rescued it, that’s all,” said Fly. “Here, have some. That’ll calm your conscience.”
“No, thank you,” said Frog, turning primly away. “I don’t think the Great Spirit would approve.”
“Hmph.” Fly shrugged. “The Great Spirit hasn’t struck me with lightning yet.”
“Why would it?” Worm giggled. “You’re so boring, Frog.”
“I think she’s scared of the sweetpulp,” snorted Grass. “Maybe she can’t handle it.”
“If she doesn’t want any, it’s her business,” butted in Thorn angrily, and Frog shot him a grateful look. “Leave her alone.”
“Fine.” Grass shrugged. “If she wants to miss out, that’s fine by me. Anyone else?”
Worm and Fang didn’t have any of Frog’s scruples; they grabbed the offerings eagerly and gulped them down. Thorn bit his lip, tempted despite himself. “What’s it like?”
“You’ve never had it before?” Fly lifted his brow disdainfully. “Go on, you might like it.”
Thorn had no wish to be in debt to them, but he couldn’t repress his curiosity. He took the pawful of mushy fruit that Fly offered him and sniffed at it. It smelled strong and tangy enough to make him blink. Doubtfully he crammed it into his mouth.
It wasn’t bad. Slowly he chewed, blinking. The juice that ran down his throat was sharp and made his head feel light. A rather dozy feeling of well-being crept across his brain; they were right, it did taste good. He suddenly felt a lot more relaxed about the trek ahead of them.
No! he thought in alarm. That was no way to think about the quest for a new home; it was going to be tough and dangerous, and they’d all have to have their wits about them. Grass, Fang, Worm, and Fly were squatting against tree trunks, grinning and telling jokes that were little more than gibberish; they weren’t paying him any attention. Thorn turned quickly and, under the guise of a cough, spat the sweetpulp into a bush.
Wiping his mouth, he cleared his throat. Frog was the only one who was looking, and she gave him a shy, approving smile.
“You didn’t like it?” she murmured.
“I need to keep a clear head,” he whispered firmly.
Frog nodded, still gazing at him with shining eyes. “I think you’re wise, Thorn.”
“Thanks,” he grunted. “Let’s get these fools going again, and the troop will have to follow. We can’t waste time.”
Frog nodded eagerly, and with quite a bit of scolding on her part, the other four Strongbranches were chivvied into moving on through the forest. With grunts of reluctance, the rest of Brightforest Troop followed.
“I know this place,” Frog told Thorn as they tore and smashed at a barrier of scrub. “I’m sure you do too. There’s a stream up ahead, remember?”
“I think so.” Thorn was beginning to realize just how powerful the big baboon was—no wonder Stinger had picked her to be a Strongbranch. He watched with admiration as Frog ripped down a last tangle of small branches.
“But it shouldn’t cause problems,” she went on. “Everyone’s wet anyway and—oh!” Her eyes widened with shock. Thorn followed her gaze through the gap.
Of course. They should have realized, he thought dismally. The rain had swollen the stream massively, bursting its banks; water had risen to cover the lower sections of the tree trunks. The once-lazy trickle was a churning torrent of foamy brown, with twigs and leaves and small dead creatures swirling in its current.
“We can’t cross that!” exclaimed Moss, following Frog and Thorn out of the undergrowth.
“I’m not taking my baby in there!” declared a mother, clutching her infant against her with a protective paw.
The baboons were all pushing through the scrub now, gathering around Frog and Thorn. As each baboon came through, the exclamations of horror rose.
“Stop, stop!” Stinger clambered through the foliage and scowled at them all. “I’ll have none of this panic and defeatism. We have an efficient team to help us now! They will get us safely across this river.” He stared expectantly at the six Strongbranches.
Thorn and the others looked apprehensively at one another. After a small silence Thorn said, “We should split into pairs and look for a way across. Come on. Frog, you come with me.”
The other four Strongbranches set off downstream, halfheartedly poking at broken twigs and flotsam, while Thorn and Frog made their way upstream. “I honestly don’t see how we’re going to do this,” Frog told him with a sigh.
He nodded. “It would take forever to find a way around this water, if there is one at all. Look out!” He darted out of the way as a rotten branch was flung ashore at their paws. As it receded a little, bobbing in a side current, he frowned. “I’d suggest using a branch like that one to get across, but did you see what happened?”
Frog nodded. “The river tossed it as if it was a twig. We’d need something a lot bigger. But what is there?”
“Something bigger.” Thorn frowned. Then he brightened and pointed. “Like that!”
A sturdy mgunga tree stood right on a bend of the river, its roots now sunk deep in water. One of its branch
es had snapped, but not entirely; it hung drooping out over the river, reaching more than halfway to the far side.
The two baboons looked at each other, excited. “That’s it!” exclaimed Frog. “It doesn’t go all the way, but—”
“But there are strangler figs on the other side,” said Thorn. “Look, their branches almost touch that broken one. I think even the oldest baboons could make that jump.”
“And the littlest can be carried by their mothers,” finished Frog. “We’ve done it, Thorn!”
She gave him a quick hug of celebration; Thorn was too surprised to react, and she’d released him before he could. She went bounding off back down the bank, and he loped after her.
When they reached the troop, Stinger was turning from the other Strongbranches, his face sour with disappointment. At the news from Frog and Thorn, he perked up instantly.
“Well done, my Strongbranches!” he declared, clapping his paws to draw the troop’s attention. “I chose you well! Brightforest Troop—follow Frog and Thorn. We shall once again meet a new challenge as a troop, and overcome it!”
The plan worked just as Thorn had hoped. Grass and Worm were first to cross—at Stinger’s insistence—and they looked more than a little nervous as they picked their way along the flaky yellow bark, wincing when their paws touched the prickles. But they made the jump to the fig trees with ease and sat up on its branches, hooting in triumph and relief.
Satisfied, Stinger nodded. “Fly and Fang, you cross too. Thorn and Frog, stay here to guide everyone up. And then, my troop: the rest of you.”
There was a new optimism among the baboons, despite the lashing rain. As Frog guided them up the mgunga tree, Thorn set to helping them cross the branch one by one. It wasn’t long before most of the troop was sitting in the twisted boughs of the fig tree on the opposite bank, hooting encouragement to friends who were still to cross.
Thorn turned to find Mud at his shoulder. Mud smiled at him, nervously.
“How is it?” Mud whispered. “Being a Strongbranch, I mean?”