The International Yeti Collective

by Paul Mason

  “Clumsy oaf,” said Jiffi.

  “Come on,” laughed Plumm, grabbing Songg’s arm.

  Tick watched the others dance for a bit and then drifted from the cavern. While the party was going on, there was something he still had to do. “Come on, Flittermouse,” Tick said to the little bat clinging to his fur. “We have an errand to run.”

  Tick followed the tunnel uphill and out into the cave which opened up on to the bush. He paused for a moment, sniffing the air for intruders, then listened for the heavy footfall of the humans. There was nothing but crickets and the haunting cry of a lonely owl. Flittermouse stretched her wings and flew off into the darkness.

  Tick followed his bat friend through the trees as she headed down the hillside towards the human dwelling of the slab stealers. Once it was in sight, Tick sat in the bushes for a time, checking the land outside to see that there were no humans about – no little red glows of the screaming alarm, no nasty surprises. Apart from the light coming from the bottom of the dwelling, the place looked deserted.

  Tick crept up to the entrance and there he laid down his staff. Then he turned and ran for the safety of the bush, Flittermouse soaring above.

  *

  The film crew and Ella gathered in the studio, which somehow seemed forlorn without the slabs.

  “Now perhaps you’d better tell us everything you know,” said Jack.

  Ella sighed. She was glad to get it out in the open – it had been hard sneaking around and keeping secrets all this time. Ella told the others how she worked out that the slab map showed where yeti could be found all over the world, including New Zealand – she told them about the newspaper article she dug up about Ray Stevens that led her to think about searching the bush nearby. She explained about her train trips, and the rock stack, and the smell. Ella described finding the yeti staff on the night of the break-in, proving that they’d been there. She explained how she’d realized just how intelligent the yeti really were.

  “Investigated like a true field naturalist,” said Ana.

  Ella blushed.

  “So Grandpa Ray was right about them being in these hills. Everyone thought he was nuts.” Jack sighed. “I believed in him, though.”

  “Well, I guessed the yeti would come looking again – they had to – so this afternoon I took the staff and I went out to find them,” said Ella.

  Walker whistled. “It was a big gamble – you had no idea what you could have been up against.”

  “Ana said they were most probably gentle creatures, and I trust her,” said Ella. “There’s more. I brought you down to the studio to look at this, before Dr Milligan comes back and gets a chance to see it.” Ella tapped the keyboard, bringing the screen to life. “His program finally translated the yeti’s language. I saw it this afternoon.”

  She read out aloud. “In the beginning came Earth Mother, the first of the striders, the first of our kind. Earth Mother told her children to stride over mountain and ocean, and where they journeyed so they dwelled. And so the Collective began…”

  The others read on, shaking their heads in disbelief.

  “They do all these amazing things, all over the planet,” said Ella.

  Walker whistled. “Imagine the online storm this would make. It would break the internet.”

  “And what would happen to the yeti after that?” asked Ella. “No more yeti, no more yeti help.”

  Jack hung his head, and at last he let out a long sigh. “I guess I’ve been blinkered this whole time.”

  “You’re not the only one,” said Ana. She gave Ella an apologetic smile.

  “I was only thinking of my huge discovery. I was so close too,” said Jack.

  “Closer than anyone ever got – that’s something,” said Ella.

  “True.”

  “So what now?” asked Ana.

  “Let the yeti get back to what they were doing before any of this started,” said Jack.

  Ella’s face broke into a wide grin.

  “But first there are some yeti tracks to cover up, starting with this.” Jack opened Walker’s camera and took out the memory card. He held it in his fingers and let out a long breath, before throwing it on the floor and crushing it with his shoe. Walker winced.

  Ella leaned over and made several clicks with the mouse. “Now there’s no camera footage, no carvings and no file.”

  “I think the yeti will just have to be our little secret,” said Jack.

  Walker smiled. “What yeti?”

  “Well, that’s that,” said Ana. “I’d better let Dr Milligan know the slabs were vandalized in the night and coincidentally a virus has wiped all his work – that’ll take some telling.”

  “I’ll phone the studio tomorrow,” said Jack, turning to go back upstairs. “With zero to show for all these expeditions, they’ll pull the plug, no question. My yeti obsession was hanging by a thread anyway. On the upside, I’ve got a feeling we could all be back for another series of Stern Stuff soon enough,” Jack said to Ana and Walker. “Did you know it’s had over four million views?”

  The Mountain Yeti and the Makimaki faced each other on the bank of the underground stream. It was time to say goodbye.

  Flittermouse was to return to her kin with the Mande Barung and pass on the message: the slabs were no longer in human hands. All was well. Keep safe.

  Tick tickled the tiny bat under her chin for the last time. “I don’t do long goodbyes,” he stammered, his voice breaking. “Thanks for everything, dear friend. May the wind be always at your back.”

  Flittermouse nuzzled into Tick’s fur and trilled.

  “Yes, I’m sure our paths will cross again too,” said Tick.

  Flittermouse unfurled her wings, flew down the tunnel towards the cave entrance and was gone.

  “It’s not just Flittermouse that has many moons’ travel ahead of her,” said Dahl.

  The yeti all raised their arms, touching their chests and then their heads in silent salute.

  “One shall not reach the top of a mountain by sitting on the bottom,” intoned Dahl, bowing.

  “There is part of us that shall always be Makimaki,” said Jiffi.

  The four yeti clambered into the canoe. “Perhaps we shall return to visit one moon,” Dahl grunted as he untied the rope, and pushed off from the bank.

  “Or perhaps we’ll come to your place,” said Dunkk.

  “Till then.” Dahl called to Jiffi sitting at the front. “Ready, navigator?”

  “Stick to the right, and then it’s the second tunnel on the left,” Jiffi called.

  “No problem,” said Tick.

  Jiffi dipped her paddle into the water, setting the stroke, the others following. The boat floated away into the dark, the soft sound of a Makimaki farewell song pushing them on…

  *

  The great fungusatory was full of commotion and bustle. On the cave floor, teams of yeti worked the fungus fields – spades and rakes in hand, planting new spores, gathering those that were grown, spreading compost. Water carriers passed the waterwheel in procession, picking up full buckets. Basket after basket of fungus was lifted up to the ceiling on ropes, ready to be scattered on the wind.

  Tick looked round the farm. He couldn’t believe he’d missed it so much. To be near a larder full of pine-needle cake and slug jam. To hear bark paper pages rustling in the library, and the flonking pit echoing to the sound of chanting and cheers as sopping dwiles found their mark. After all they’d done to protect the slabs, the elders had ruled that Tick and his mum were no longer exiles. He’d gone back to being (he with no time to waste) and Jiffi was once again (she always in a hurry). Dahl had made sure of that. Everything was as it should be.

  After last horn, Tick left the fungusatory and padded back along the tunnels to his den. He pushed the moss curtain aside to find his new denmate hanging a daisy chain around her neck. At the sight of her son, Jiffi smiled – a big human smile with plenty of teeth.

  “They look nice,” said Tick, pointing to her flowe
rs. He looked round his den. It felt so much better now Mum was back. The carpet of lichen seemed softer beneath his feet and there was a warmth to the place that hadn’t been present before. There wasn’t a gnawing, nagging sense of misgiving hanging in the air. For the first time, this funny little den felt like home. Mum was back, Tick realized with a grin. She truly was.

  *

  At the Sasquatch sett, Inke led the volunteers in their daily training. Half a dozen yeti struggled their way up vines, hand over hand, their big feet pushing, their hairy legs swaying.

  “Incoming!” yelled Grubb as a bat swooped down. Inke held his arm out for the bat to latch on to. The fruit bat squeaked its news.

  “The secret of the slabs safe … maintain vigilance … invitation … Collective gathering … location to be confirmed…” said Grubb.

  Spratt slid down the vine. “Good news, sir?”

  “Very good news,” said Inke. “Make ready the craft. Have Ranke gather supplies. Prepare to move out at short notice!”

  *

  Sipp, leader of the Almas, was feeding a herd of argali sheep, their horns large and curved, when the messenger arrived.

  “Planke, Aspp, Gagg!” she called out after hearing everything the bat had to say. “Our friend brings news. All is safe. The Collective meets again.”

  “Tremendous!” said Planke.

  “We’ll need a big boat,” added Aspp, eyeing the sheep.

  *

  Crisp bobbed in the ocean, a sack of coral spore at his side. Shrubb trod water close by.

  “You about done?” asked Shrubb.

  “Last of them now, sis,” said Crisp, releasing another handful of the tiny red dots.

  Shrubb began swimming back to the beach with steady strokes. A tiger shark slunk out of the shadows and glided towards her hairy legs. Shrubb thumped it on the nose. “Silly fish,” she chuckled.

  As the Yowie climbed out on to the sand, their fur sodden and dripping, a bat flew above their heads three times, before latching on to a nearby branch.

  “Another bat friend!” said Crisp. The Yowie listened to the messenger’s squeaks.

  “Wow, the Collective is getting back together. We’d better go and tell the others,” Shrubb whistled. “Do you think we’ll get to go?”

  “It’s probably just elders.”

  “Probably,” said Crisp.

  *

  “A Collective gathering, well, that is good news,” said Shipshape of the Greybeards. “We ought to offer to host it. I’ll send word.”

  “A fine idea,” agreed Rainstorm. “It’s been a long time since we all met. Not in my lifetime anyway.”

  “Just goes to show that some good can come out of a crisis,” said Shipshape. “You know what they say: when the going gets hairy, the hairy get going.”

  *

  “So what was your trip like?” said April. “I loved all those photos you shared with me.” There were still a few minutes before first bell and excited first-day chatter filled the hallway.

  “It was awesome. I went right up into the Himalayan mountains with the film crew.”

  “Wow. I wish I had a famous uncle like you.”

  Ella smiled. “Yeah, Uncle Jack’s OK.”

  “So are you going to be on TV?”

  “The programme never got made in the end. There were a few problems.”

  “That’s a shame,” said April.

  “Real shame,” agreed Ella. “But Uncle Jack’s already doing another season of Stern Stuff, though.”

  “Love that show,” said April.

  The bell clanged, and hundreds of blue uniforms began filing their way into the classrooms.

  “Goodbye, holiday,” said Ella with a sigh.

  She and April made their way into English class and found two desks at the back. Written on the whiteboard was:

  Write two paragraphs about an interesting thing you did or saw over the summer.

  “Great, two paragraphs about my game console,” said April. “What about you, Miss I-went-to-the-Himalayas?”

  Ella pictured the campsite by the river, the trek through the forest. She remembered the yeti – the wonderful, magical yeti – the slabs, the chase at the gun tunnels. She’d helped save the yeti – she’d always have that. And there was the wooden staff, worn smooth by the hands of her friend, resting in her closet.

  “Yak,” said Ella. “I’m going to write about yak.”

  EPILOGUE

  Tick and Plumm waved goodbye to the sentry yeti guarding the north entrance, and squeezed through the gap between the boulder and the side of the mountain.

  “Make sure you’re back by sunset,” said one.

  “Nice job you did with that whole rescue thing,” said the other.

  “Thanks,” said Tick.

  The two yeti took deep breaths of the fresh mountain air. There was the strong scent of pine from the forest, with a touch of sap.

  “Come on,” said Plumm, striding down the hillside. “These bags need filling.”

  Tick caught up with her and the two of them flowed through the shadows. Nosh wanted lots of wild thyme and rosemary, which grew in bunches in the rocky soil at the base of the mountain. The yeti took the trail to the herb garden, following their noses.

  “I’m surprised they trust me out here at all, after what happened last time,” said Tick, taking a break from picking herbs to turn his face to the sun. “Mind you, I’m completely over my human thing.”

  “What about Ell-a?” teased Plumm.

  Tick gave her a shove. “But you know what she did help to prove? People aren’t all bad. Mum was right all along.”

  “Have you noticed how Dahl is more relaxed since we came back?”

  Tick chewed on a twig of rosemary. “Not just Dahl but Greatrex too. Itch told me he even overheard them talking about getting some new slabs for the sett carved the other moon. Greatrex said it might be time for changes.”

  “Changes?”

  “Yeah, a look at rewriting some of the rules. Dahl has been whispering in his ear. He reckons we could learn things from some of the other setts too. Greatrex has requested a Collective gathering. Word’s already gone out.”

  “Gathering? Where?”

  “I think it’s at the sett of the Greybeards. A long way off in the lands to the north. Itch told me.”

  “New rules? Not sure Nagg will like that,” murmured Plumm, tying up her sack. She prodded Tick in the arm. “You finished gathering or what?”

  The two yeti climbed back up the mountainside, stopping to eat a pine cone or two along the way. As they reached the top of the mountain, something fluttering in the trees caught Tick’s eye. It was a piece of paper impaled on one of the branches. It looked like human paper, blown there on the wind.

  Go and get it, said the idea fly. You never know what it might be.

  Tick laid down his new staff. “Just a second.” He took hold of the tree trunk and pulled himself up, and then went hand over hand along the branch, the wood straining under his weight, until his fingers grasped the shred of paper. With a tug, it came loose and Tick dropped to the ground.

  “What is it?” asked Plumm.

  Tick couldn’t read what it said, so he folded the paper. He would show it to Greatrex. “Let’s go,” he said. “Nosh will be wondering about her herbs.”

  GLOSSARY

  Banishment: being sent to live far away from the sett

  Cocoon: a human tent

  Council of Elders: the ruling body of the sett; the cabinet

  Denmate: roommate

  Earth Mother: in yeti mythology, the first of the yeti

  Firebird: helicopter

  Fledg ling: infant or toddler

  Flonking: a game where the opponents aim to splat each other with a sopping rag. Practised in some places by humans too

  Fungusatory: the fungus farm

  Guardian: protector of the sett

  Leaf Yeti: the giver of names in the yeti naming ceremony. Not dissimilar to the Burryman, an a
ncient human tradition

  Rumble Stick: the staff and symbol of the Guardian

  Scatterer Yeti: the yeti who spread the fungus over the forest

  Sett: the yeti home and community

  Silverback: the leader of the sett

  Staunch Veil: the secret Mountain Yeti stronghold, used in times of crisis

  The Collective: the group of nineteen yeti setts around the world

  The slabs: the precious laws, legends and history of the yeti

  Thunderclap: rifle, gun

  Tree-striding: running through the forest, silent and unseen, leaving no trace behind

  Youngling: child

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  I finished my first draft of The International Yeti Collective back in 2014 (has it really been that long?) and have watched it grow and develop over the years into the book now resting in your hands. This would not have happened without the support and involvement of the following people:

  Rachel Boden, who warmly accepted the yeti into the Stripes family; Ella Whiddett, Sophie Bransby and Leilah Skelton at Stripes; my copy editor, Jane Tait; Barbara Else at the TFS literary agency; Roz Hopkins and Natalie Winter at Captain Honey; my father David for reading draft after draft, and for always being willing to lend me his insight; my trusted critics: my children Mia and Miles, and my wife Jenny (who have probably heard enough about yeti to last a lifetime) and cousin Joe for his encouragement, and for helping me imagine how the yeti might look.

  I would also like to thank the Driving Creek Railway for all the inspiring train rides through the bush over the years, and countries all around the world for their yeti folklore as well as some wonderful proverbs, sayings and wisdom.

  I am especially thrilled to share these pages with the talented Katy Riddell and see her warm and thoughtful pen-and-ink drawings bring the yeti to life.

  And last but certainly not least, I owe an enormous debt to Ruth Bennett, my editor, whose intuition, advice and unwavering belief have been instrumental in shaping this book and driving it forward. Thank you.