by Paul Mason
Tick followed Leeke’s finger as she sketched the path.
“To get to the Makimaki will take some paddling.” Cadd whistled. “Never in my lifetime has one of our kind ventured that far.”
“But it can be done,” insisted Leeke. “It is better to light a lantern than to grumble in the dark.”
Dahl grunted in agreement. “Now, Cadd, I’m hoping your sett still has its messengers?”
“Yes, our treetop friends travel with us still.” Cadd pointed to a nearby tree and Tick saw there were a dozen or so bats hanging there, their faces hidden behind dark wings.
“Then we need their help to ask the Makimaki to keep an eye out for the slabs, and to let them know of our arrival. We must also get word of our mission to Staunch Veil,” said Dahl.
“Consider it done,” said Cadd.
“There is another more crucial matter.” Dahl paused, looking round the nest at the others. “We must alert all the other setts too. I believe the time has come to revive the Collective.”
At this, Cadd sat up. “The Collective?”
Dahl nodded. “If we fail in our task and the humans decipher the slabs, then we can be sure that they will quickly learn the whereabouts of every sett on Earth.”
Cadd let out a gasp. “Sweet fungus! I hadn’t thought of that.”
Tick shrank back from the sudden look of horror etched all over Cadd’s face – a panic that would soon spread across the world. Tick felt sick to his stomach. He sensed a hand on his, and looked over to see Plumm giving him a quiet, comforting smile. Tick’s eyes welled up.
“Every one of us might need to abandon sett,” muttered Cadd as he came to terms with it all.
Dahl hung his head. “Just so. We must sound the alarm. And soon.”
“Yes, wake the Collective!” Leeke cackled. “Wake the Collective! And not before time, if I may say so.”
“Wake the Collective,” Plumm repeated, trying the words on for size.
Cadd thought for a moment, then nodded. “Our bat companions will fly to every sett on Earth as if their own lives depended on it.” He leaned over the edge of the nest and called out. “Friends, we need you. Please come at once.”
One by one, the bats stirred, then dropped from their trees and flew over – giant wings beating – until the branches surrounding Leeke’s nest were full.
Tick listened as, with one eye on the slab map, Cadd spoke to each bat in turn. As they received their instructions, the bats let go of their branches and flapped off through the trees.
“The word is spread,” said Cadd at last.
Dahl bowed. “Thank you, dear friend.”
“And now let us put aside our worries,” said Cadd. “Tonight we honour your visit with a feast! After all, it is not every moon we get visitors from abroad.”
Leeke licked her lips. “Will there be pickled geckos?”
That night, the Mande Barung gathered in the clearing in a big circle, with the Mountain Yeti as their guests of honour, flanked by Cadd and the elders. Tick hadn’t seen any cooking fires or smelled any smoke coming from the jungle, but the larder keepers had prepared a huge feast, wandering in from the forest, bearing basket after basket of food. There were baked roots and boiled quail eggs. Pickled earwigs in jelly and barbecued crickets in mango sauce. Soon Tick’s banana-leaf plate was heavy. Happy warbling rose up from the circle into the evening sky.
“Eat up, yeti, eat up. This might be your last proper meal for a time,” chortled Cadd through a mouthful of fish.
Throughout dinner, Tick couldn’t help but notice that Leeke’s piercing eyes rested on him. Then, as the meal ended and the Mande Barung formed a circle to dance, Leeke raised a gnarled hand and beckoned.
Tick pushed his leaf plate to one side and went over, kneeling before the wise yeti. Leeke popped a few barbecued crickets in her mouth. Then she ran a palm along his cheek, staring at Tick as if she was searching for something.
“You want to speak to me, O Leeke?” said Tick.
Leeke turned her attention once more to her plate. “It is not just the slabs you seek, is it?” she declared through a mouthful of pickled gecko.
Tick’s heart thumped. “What do you mean?”
Leeke prodded him in the stomach. “This journey is about your mother as much as it’s about the slabs.”
“You know about that?” Tick gulped.
Leeke wiped her lips with the back of her hand. “She misses you too.”
“How can you know?”
“I sensed it the moment you stepped into my nest – this feeling of great sorrow. I have chanced upon it before – you bear her scent.”
“Where, when?”
“A yeti passed through this forest many cycles ago. Not far from the riverbank. A moon’s striding from here.”
Tick swallowed. “And you saw her?”
Leeke shook her head. “But only because she didn’t want to be seen. I was out foraging when I felt a yeti pass by. I carried on picking herbs and waited for her to show herself, yet she did not. But her smell was the same as yours. Mountain Yeti mixed with sadness and shame.”
Tick allowed himself a smile. “Then she’s alive.”
“There is no reason to doubt she still strides.”
Tick sat in silence for a time, thinking of his mother, of her banishment, of her contact with humans. It reminded him of something that had been bothering him. “How come you can read human, Leeke?”
Leeke stopped eating for a moment and considered her answer. “Being able to speak other tongues draws beings closer, yes? It builds understanding.”
“So, we should try to understand humans?”
“They were once our cousins – you must remember that,” said Leeke. “Though many elders would think me a radical for saying so.”
Tick reached over and took her hand. “Thank you, Leeke.”
*
The following morning, on the forest floor a short stride away from the sett, the Mande Barung said farewell. One of the larder keepers handed Plumm a huge sack of provisions.
Plumm peered in. “More mango crickets – my favourite, yum!”
“And, to further help you on your quest, we have arranged a companion to join your party,” said Cadd. He called to the treetops and down swooped a tiny bat on to his outstretched arm. “This is Flittermouse. You never know when you may need to send out a call, and she can guide you in the dark. She is our most trusted partner.”
Of the three yeti, Flittermouse chose Tick to carry her, flapping over and landing on his shoulder.
Tick flinched at the feeling of her claws digging into his fur. He froze, his body stiff. Then Flittermouse nuzzled into his fur with her shiny nose, wrapping her wings round her like a tidy shawl. Tick looked down and saw that she was soft and dark, with large black eyes, and the fur on her face was flecked with brown. Perhaps he was wrong about bats. He gave Flittermouse a tickle under her chin and the bat gave a contented squeak. Tick grinned.
“Well, a shrimp that sleeps gets carried by the tide,” declared Leeke, getting to her feet.
“Take care, Dahl,” said Twangg, giving the Guardian a hug.
With steady striding, the yeti soon found themselves back at their boat, deep in the caverns below. The extra provisions made the boat sit low in the water. Dahl grunted with unease but Tick wasn’t really thinking about the boat any more – he was staring down the tunnel. After what Leeke told him, he wondered if his mother had passed this way.
*
Ella had a yeti theory. It went like this.
The carvings they found in the mountains were something important – why else were the yeti trying to carry them away? On the carving that Dr Milligan showed her was a world map. What if the map showed all the yeti places – their homes? That would mean there were yeti all over the world. She needed to have another look.
Ella waited until Dr Milligan left for the day and then went down to the studio. She ran her hands over the carving.
South America. No
rth America. Asia. Australia. Each continent had tiny squiggles of writing chiselled on to it. Her fingers found the tiny blob that looked like New Zealand. She touched the symbols. Were there yeti here too? Ella pulled out her phone and took a quick picture of the map. Then she went back upstairs, typing into a search bar while she walked: ‘Yeti sighting NZ’.
There was an encyclopedia entry on cryptozoology, which Ella learned was the study of legendary creatures. There were also several websites about yeti. Then a link to an old article caught her attention.
Mysterious Hairy Creature Reported on Greyton Peninsula Greyton Daily, Tuesday, 9th February 1967
Explorer and would-be yeti hunter, Mr Ray Stevens, believes he has sighted another hairy, yeti-like creature, this time living in the bush country of the local ranges.
Out tramping near his home, Mr Stevens claims he saw a brief glimpse of a hairy man striding through the bush at great speed. While the creature left no tracks, there was, Stevens claimed, a noxious odour left behind, like that of rotten vegetables.
On investigation, Mr Stevens also maintains he found shells and bones in the ranges, proof he says of an unknown beast dwelling at ground level. Mr Stevens says that his findings tie in with local tales of strange night intruders in logging camps, and farm dogs growling at an unseen presence.
When asked to comment, Dr Bob Norris of Auckland Zoo said that it was highly unlikely that a primate or ape could inhabit the New Zealand ecosystem. Furthermore, members of the ape family were herbivores that mainly lived in nests in trees, and not on the ground. He found Mr Stevens’ theory utterly implausible.
Dr Norris also pointed out that Mr Stevens’ earlier attempts to prove the existence of yeti in the Himalayas were widely discredited. “I fear Mr Stevens is once again leading us up the garden path,” said Dr Norris. “He’s letting his imagination run wild.”
Stevens – wasn’t that the man Uncle Jack told her about? The one who took a photo of the yeti all those years ago and was later called a fraud?
Ella scanned the article again. “Hairy man striding through the bush … strange night intruders … farm dogs growling … unseen presence.”
Uncle Jack’s mansion was in Greyton Peninsula! That meant Stevens’ yeti sighting took place in the hills right near here! Ella closed her bedroom door, her head full of questions. What if Stevens really had seen a yeti close by?
Ella walked up and down, trying to think. Dr Milligan said the creators of the carvings were highly intelligent. From what she had learned from her time in the mountains, Ella thought so too. So, if that was the case, perhaps there was some way she could communicate with them – warn the yeti what was happening?
“Maybe I could even help them get the slabs back,” Ella murmured under her breath. She looked around to make sure no one had heard, even though she knew she was on her own.
Ella decided she needed to try and find these local yeti, if they existed at all. She would go up into the hills outside town and look for herself. Then her phone rang, startling her.
“Hey, Dad,” said Ella. “How’s the trip going? Where are you anyway?”
“In Perth this week. Just woke up.” They chatted for a bit. “Listen, Ella. I’m afraid our trip is going to take a bit longer. The client is being kind of a pain,” admitted Dad. “But we’ve spoken to Jack and he says you can stay on with him. Is that OK?”
“Sure, Dad, that’s fine. I’m having a good time here.”
“Glad to hear it. We’ll make it up to you when we get back. Mum and I need this deal to go through, but after that we’ll have more time to do stuff together.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
“Miss you.”
“Miss you too, Dad,” said Ella, but, to be honest, her mind was elsewhere.
The flock of bats flew out from the home of the Mande Barung in every direction. Some were as small as mice; others cast large shadows on the ground. They beat their wings, not stopping or resting until they reached their destinations.
The first bat swooped in as Sipp (she who slurps when drinking), silverback of the Almas, fed a clutch of snow leopard cubs in their rocky den. The bat’s teeth chattered as it squeaked its message.
“Trouble?” exclaimed Sipp as she wrapped her hairy red arms round the poor creature. She listened some more. “The Collective? On alert!” Sipp got to her feet. “Planke, Aspp, Gagg!” she shouted out. (He who is thick; she with venomous tongue; he with many jokes.) “The Collective wakes!”
*
“Take cover!” barked Inke (he with stained fingers) of the Sasquatch. The yeti from the squad of Rapid Reaction Volunteers ducked into the bushes as a pair of massive black wings flapped above their head. The bat landed on a tree branch and hung itself upside down.
“What do you see, Spratt?” barked Inke.
“Bat,” Spratt (he who eats no fat) called out from behind a bush. “Greater fruit bat. Threat minimal.”
The volunteers stood up. Inke came closer. “Strange to see such a bat this far north, eh, Grubb?”
“Very strange, sir,” said Grubb (she covered in dirt).
“What do you make of it, Spratt?”
“I think he’s a messenger sent from hotter lands. Mande Barung sett, I’d wager.”
“Mande Barung?” Inke rubbed his chin. “Now that’s a name I’ve not heard spoken in years. Message, eh? What can it be about? Grubb, secure the boundary.”
“Sir!”
“Ranke, some fruit, if you please. Quick, quick.”
“Coming, sir.” Ranke (she who is rotten) rummaged around in her carry sack and produced an apple, ripping it in two with her hands. She gave a piece to Inke.
The large Sasquatch held the apple up to the bat, who began to nibble. “First, you must finish your nosebag, my leathery friend, and then let’s hear this urgent communiqué.”
“Good grief! The slabs of the Mountain Yeti stolen!” muttered Inke a little later when the bat finished its peeping. “It looks like we’re all in hot water. Back to the sett on the double,” he ordered.
*
Cadd’s messenger also swooped down on the mountains in a land to the north, seeking out a shadowy crevice, the secret entrance to the sett of the Greybeards. On hearing the bat’s warning, Shipshape the silverback (she in perfect order) put the sett on high alert. All visits to the surface were cancelled until further notice. All peak-running was put on hold.
“If the humans learn of our exact whereabouts, we might even have to abandon the sett,” said Shipshape.
“And what of our water purification?” asked Rainstorm, the Guardian (he of damp humour). “The valley depends on us.”
“I shudder to think,” said Shipshape.
“Humans,” grumbled Rainstorm. “Always trouble.”
*
Crisp and Shrubb stared at the sand, the Yowies’ fur camouflaged by the coarse tufts of grass covering the dune. The beach in front of them trembled, just a little at first, then the ripples spread outwards until the whole area seemed to bubble and roll. A tiny dark shape coated in sand wriggled to the surface, then another. The turtle hatchlings forced themselves out on to the beach and, guided by an unseen hand, they crawled down the sand towards the sea.
“I just knew it was hatching time,” said Crisp (he baked in the sun).
“Swim, little ones, swim,” said Shrubb (she smaller than a tree), keeping an eye on the sky for hungry seagulls. “Look out!” she cried, spotting a large dark shape. She leaped out to protect the turtles as a large bat swooped down into the clearing and landed on a nearby tree.
Shrubb let out a relieved sigh as the bat began squeaking at them.
“Mountain Yeti?” Crisp took a deep breath, listening to every word. “On a quest? The Collective?”
“As soon as all those hatchlings are in the water, we’d better stride,” said Shrubb.
*
At the far end of the Earth, a yeti of the Makimaki sett opened his cupped hands, revealing a tiny brown bird with ov
ersized feet and a nervous disposition.
“Go on now. Time to make it out there on your own,” whispered Songg (he with tuneful voice).
The young bird tottered on the soft, spongy earth, and eyed the shadows with suspicion. It tested the dirt with its pointy beak – like a needle. Then all at once came a thrashing of large wings from above and the bird fled, vanishing into the undergrowth.
Songg stared up at the giant messenger, puzzled. “Bat? There are no bats that size around here.”
He listened to what the bat had to say and then called out to the silverback nearby. The bat beat her wings and disappeared once again into the night.
Dunkk (she who dips biscuits) slipped through the bushes. “What was that? I heard something swoop through the trees.”
“A messenger. And you’re not going to believe what she had to say. We’re about to have visitors.”
*
Greatrex sat at the head of the Council table in the great hall of Staunch Veil and listened to the messenger, his blanket drawn round his shoulders, his staff tapping out a steady rhythm on the smooth stone beneath his feet.
The silverback felt his heart lift as he listened to the bat’s squeaks. Though the troubles of the yeti were far from over, now at least there was some cheer.
“So, Dahl and the younglings are safe and follow the slabs?” asked the silverback. “And the Collective is revived too – well, well.”
The bat squeaked in confirmation.
“Now that is welcome news,” said Greatrex with a small smile. “But you must be hungry after flying all this way.”
The bat squeaked that this was so.
Greatrex beckoned to the yeti standing guard at the entrance to the hall. “Please take our little friend to the larder and see she gets a proper meal, and then somewhere warm to sleep. She has brought us such important news.”
*
The three yeti swept along in the canoe, the current drawing them further and further towards … who knew what? Plumm and Dahl slept, their heads resting on either side of the canoe, which left Tick alone with his thoughts, and the gentle breathing of Flittermouse, who snuggled into his fur.
