by Alan Skinner
This was one of Leaf’s favourite places and she had made it a beautiful and happy place to be. Muddles would wander here to say hello to the scout and sit in the green, leafy shade, listening to birdsong and the laughter of the breeze in the trees.
On this day, there was no joy for Crimson as she stood at the edge of the clearing and gazed at the camp. The call of the birds was subdued and the breeze was a hushed sigh. Leaf’s tent, brightly decorated with slogans, flowers, birds and butterflies, looked lonely. The folding table in front of the tent, with Leaf’s hair brushes and cosmetics, ribbons and mirrors, all neatly arranged, seemed out of place without the exuberant young scout sitting at it.
Crimson stepped into the camp. The sensations she had suppressed, the wordless whispers which both beckoned and warned her, surged inside her. The camp felt wrong, though Crimson was unable to pinpoint what was amiss.
It took her only a few minutes to put some things into a small bag for Leaf: smake-up, clothes, a bottle of Leaf’s favourite perfume and a book. When she emerged from the tent, she found Calamity sitting in the middle of the camp, deep in thought.
‘What is it?’ Crimson asked.
‘I’m just trying to work out what that scent is I can smell. It’s stronger here. But I’m not sure what it is. It’s familiar but strange. I nearly had it. It’s right on the tip of my nose.’
‘You’ll think of it, Calamity. Come on. Let’s get these things back to Home for Leaf,’ said Crimson.
From the north came a sound, faint and unclear. Crimson and Calamity stopped to listen. Again it came, drifting across the lake, almost too low for Crimson to be sure she’d heard it at all, but Calamity’s ears were sharper and the puppy had no doubt. She cocked her head and looked at Crimson.
‘There’s another smell. Two horses,’ barked Calamity. ‘But they’re not Muddles.’
There are few horses in Muddlemarsh – indeed, few in the Land. It would have been very unusual for one, let alone two, horses from Beadledom or Myrmidia to be wandering in Muddlemarsh. There were too many questions to just walk away.
‘Shall we see if we can find them?’ Crimson asked.
‘If?’ yelped Calamity indignantly. ‘If?’
Crimson smiled and gave Calamity a scratch. ‘Let’s go then, Sniff,’ she joked.
Nose to the ground, the puppy led the way. The horses had travelled round the west side of the lake, and then continued north towards the dense wood at the foot of the High Mountains. Crimson became more convinced they were doing the right thing when Calamity confirmed that whatever animal it was with the other strange scent seemed to be travelling in the same direction as the horses. Occasionally, the unfamiliar scent went off in a different direction, but before long, they all came together again.
It was Crimson who spotted the smoke, a thin wisp of grey spiralling into the sky about half a kilometre ahead.
‘That’s smoke from a camp fire, Calamity,’ she said. ‘I don’t know of many horses that can make camp fires. Let’s take a look.’
Moving quietly through the trees, they came within sight of an unremarkable camp, nestled in a cluster of boulders at the base of a small hill. In front of an igloo-shaped tent burned the small fire, and over it, suspended from a simple frame, hung a cast-iron pot. What was remarkable, though, was the hunched figure sitting on a log away from the fire.
‘Kevin!’ Crimson whispered in surprise at the sight of the Beadle. ‘I wonder what he’s doing here? And where are the horses we heard?’
‘Let’s ask him,’ said Calamity and she bounded into the camp, barking a greeting.
At the sound of the puppy, Kevin jerked upright. Crimson, about to call out a greeting of her own, stopped in shock.
Kevin’s hands and feet were tied and he was leashed securely to the log.
‘Crimson!’ he called. Relief showed on his face. ‘Calamity! By the clouds! How did you find me?’
Calamity scampered to Kevin and began gnawing at the rope securing him to the log.
‘Let’s get you free first,’ said Crimson. ‘Do you know if there is a knife somewhere?’ Crimson asked.
‘In the leather bag near the fire,’ he replied.
It wasn’t a bag but a piece of leather rolled up and held together with a piece of string. Crimson untied it and spread it on the ground. It had pockets of different shapes and sizes and in the pockets were knives and eating utensils. She took a small sharp knife and hurried back to Kevin. It took only a few seconds to slice the ropes round his hands and feet.
Kevin rubbed his wrists and ankles. ‘How did you find me?’ he asked again. Calamity was still gnawing at the rope that tethered him to the log. Kevin untied it from his waist, leaving Calamity holding it between her teeth.
‘We weren’t looking for you, Kevin. We were following a strange scent Calamity picked up back at the meadow. What happened?’
‘Horses,’ barked Calamity. Kevin looked at the puppy, then at Crimson, a question in his eyes.
‘Horses,’ said Crimson.
Kevin nodded. ‘They have two,’ he said. ‘Look, Crimson, we have to get away from here as fast as we can. They’ll be back soon. We have to hurry.’ He looked around anxiously.
‘OK, we’ll go, But just tell me: who are they? And what do they want?’
Kevin’s eyes scanned the trees and the hills. ‘They’re from The Place. They’ve come to take me back!’
Crimson didn’t know what to make of his reply. Why would they come all this way for Kevin? There was no time to think about it now though.
‘Which way did they go? We don’t want to run into them. I’m sure I can’t outrun a horse.’
Kevin pointed in the direction from which Crimson and Calamity had just come. ‘I’m sure they went that way, towards the meadow.’ He paused and fear paled his face. ‘It’s not the horses you have to worry about, Crimson,’ he said. ‘It’s the hounds.’
‘Hounds?’
‘Spoorhounds. Big savage dogs.’
Calamity’s blood was up. ‘Bring ’em on,’ she barked.
‘How many, Kevin?’ Crimson asked.
‘Four. That’s all I saw.’
Crimson made a quick decision. ‘We won’t go back through the meadow. If we go that way,’ she pointed west, towards the woods and hills, ‘we’ll come out above the plantation, near the road to Bourne Bridge. It will be a bit slower but I’d rather not run into whoever kidnapped you, or their dogs. We should make the road in a couple of hours and from there it’s only a couple more to Home.’
Kevin looked at the sky. ‘It’ll be dark in a couple of hours,’ he said.
Crimson nodded. ‘Then let’s get moving!’
They turned towards the afternoon sun and headed for Home. Through the dense wood they ran, listening all the while for sounds of pursuit. When they came to the stream that flowed from the Salvation River far to the north, they plunged in without hesitation and waded across. Their pace slowed, burdened as they were by their waterlogged clothes. Kevin, smaller and rounder than Crimson, began to falter. He knew he was holding Crimson back, yet she never moved too far ahead, running just in front of him, finding the easiest way through the trees and rocks.
Gradually, the floor of the valley rose to become its wall. It wasn’t steep, rising gently into the hills, but it was enough to test Kevin’s strength. He found breathing hard and could feel the rhythmic pounding of his blood in his head. He fixed his eyes on the ground in front of him and willed his legs to keep moving.
Crimson saw Kevin flagging. ‘We’re nearly at the top, Kevin,’ she encouraged him. ‘When we get there, we’ll stop for a few minutes. It’s not far to the road after that.’
Kevin couldn’t answer. His mind urged his body onward. He feared being taken back. He feared leaving the Land and the happy life he now had.
‘Almost there,’ he heard Crimson say.
‘Almost there,’ he repeated to himself over and over.
Kevin stumbled as the ground levelled bene
ath his feet. He felt Crimson’s hand on his arm and through the fog of concentration he heard her say, ‘Let’s rest, Kevin.’ His mind freed his legs and he slumped to the ground.
They had arrived at the top of the hill. The woods thinned ahead of them as the land sloped down to the west. To their left, the trees gave way to fern and bracken. Crimson knew that the edge of the coffee plantation lay not far beyond. To their right, a rocky outcrop jutted from the ground.
Crimson looked back in the direction they had come. In the dim light of dusk it was difficult to see but, in the distance, she could make out the faint twist of smoke from the camp. She scanned the meadow and the woods surrounding the lake but there was no sign of anybody. She sat, legs bent, her arms wrapped round her knees, and caught her breath.
‘What made you follow the scent of the horses?’ Kevin was finally able to ask.
While they sat, Crimson told him about Leaf’s accident. Kevin’s face, still tinged pink from his efforts, began to shed all trace of colour as he listened. When he heard that Leaf’s camp was not too distant from where he’d been held prisoner, a thought took shape.
‘You don’t think that the two who kidnapped me had anything to do with Leaf’s accident, do you?’ he asked.
‘That had occurred to me, Kevin. It’s possible. You still haven’t told me what happened to you. When did they kidnap you?’
‘Two days ago. It took a full day to ride back from Mint.’ Kevin grimaced. ‘That was a very unpleasant experience. A full day on my stomach, thrown over the back of a horse.’
‘That was the day after Leaf’s accident,’ said Crimson. ‘Maybe they did have something to do with it. Maybe Leaf was trying to climb the cliff to get away from them. But why?’ Crimson stood up. ‘Well, I don’t intend to wait here until they catch up with us so I can ask them. Are you ready to keep going?’
Kevin hauled himself on to his feet. ‘I don’t suppose it’s downhill from here, is it? I don’t fancy running up any more –’
His words were cut short by a warning bark from Calamity. The puppy faced the trees. Her ears were back and she emitted a long, continuous growl.
Four hounds stepped out of the woods; enormous, brown, shaggy hounds with snarling jaws. Their teeth and eyes shone starkly in the evening gloom. All four came forward, heads held low and eyes fixed on the Muddle pup. Calamity stood her ground. She lowered her front legs and raised her rear haunches, ready to spring at the menacing dogs.
‘Calamity!’ Crimson screamed. ‘No! Don’t!’
Calamity ignored Crimson. Her eyes were fixed on the dogs before her and her body tensed. The spoorhounds took another step forward.
‘Stand.’ A woman’s voice, calm but hard, came from the woods behind the dogs.
The hounds continued to snarl and menace, but all four did as they were commanded.
Through the trees came Edith and Hazlitt. Edith sat astride a red chestnut horse and Hazlitt rode a sleek bay. Edith reined in her horse just behind the dogs. Her eyes, full of arrogance and disdain, swept over Kevin, Crimson and Calamity, who was barking at theem to stay back. Then she skewered Kevin with her gaze.
‘Well, Kevin, here you are. We missed you,’ she said with cold sarcasm. She kicked her horse forward. The row of hounds parted to let her through and stood, two on either side of her. She shifted her gaze to Crimson. ‘If you want that pretty dog of yours to stay cute, then you’d be well advised to make her stop yapping.’
The woman’s tone made Crimson angry. ‘Her name is Calamity,’ she replied hotly. ‘No one owns Calamity. Ask her yourself.’
‘Oh, so she’s a Muddle puppy!’ Edith sneered. ‘Listen, my dear, she’s just an ordinary dog. Just because you can understand what she yaps about doesn’t make her different. It makes you different.’
‘Well said,’ Hazlitt remarked.
Crimson turned her back on Edith and Hazlitt and faced Kevin. ‘Are these the people who kidnapped you?’ she asked.
Edith laughed. ‘Kidnapped! That’s priceless. We were rescuing him. If anything, it was you and your friends who kidnapped him. You caused the death of his friend and employer, prevented him from going home and brought him here.’
‘I wanted to stay!’ cried Kevin. ‘And Amelia killed herself!’
‘You don’t belong here and you will go where I tell you,’ snapped Edith. Her voice softened to a coaxing lilt. ‘Come, Kevin. You don’t belong in the Land. And you really shouldn’t say such things about your Factor.’
‘Who are you?’ Crimson demanded.
‘You don’t know who I am, Crimson? I rather thought you might have guessed,’ said Edith.
Crimson was startled. ‘How do you know my name?’
‘You know, I was a bit sceptical when Amelia said there was someone like you in the Land,’ said Edith. ‘I’m rather glad I ran across you, Crimson.’
‘What do you mean?’ Crimson demanded. ‘Just tell me why you are here.’
‘Only to help, my dear,’ Hazlitt replied. Ask the Myrmidots. I’m sure they’ll tell you how helpful we are.’ And he laughed in a dry, humourless way.
‘What have you done?’ Crimson asked.
‘Made their wishes come true, that’s all,’ Hazlitt said. ‘They have made our task here so easy. Much easier than we could have hoped! And without you, Crimson, nothing can change what has been done.’
‘Enough!’ Edith commanded. ‘We don’t have time for this. Kevin, come.’
Kevin didn’t move, so Hazlitt flicked his horse with his riding crop and trotted towards him. Crimson stepped in front of the Beadle but Hazlitt casually nudged his mount so that the horse shifted its weight and with its shoulder knocked Crimson to the ground. Hazlitt leaned forward, grabbed Kevin by his shirt and threw him over the saddle in front of him.
Calamity leapt at Hazlitt’s foot. With no more thought than if he was swatting an insect, he brought the handle of his whip down on the puppy’s head. It wasn’t a hard blow but it was enough to make Calamity drop to the ground.
‘Calamity!’ screamed Crimson, and rushed to the puppy’s side.
Calamity wobbled to her feet. ‘I’m all right,’ she growled.
‘Oh, come on. I didn’t hurt it,’ said Hazlitt. ‘There’s no sport in that.’ He smiled at Crimson and Calamity. His smile was cold and mocking. ‘And I do like sport.’
He exchanged a glance with Edith, and then his eyes went to the spoorhounds and back to Crimson and Calamity. A half-smile, heartless and dismissive, came to Edith’s face and she gave a single, short nod. Hazlitt kicked his horse and disappeared down the hill towards their camp.
Edith gathered her reins. ‘It will be dark soon,’ she said, looking at Crimson and Calamity, ‘and I really don’t like the idea of leaving you alone in the dark. I would feel it was all my fault if anything were to happen to you. So I shall leave my hounds with you to keep you company.’
‘Don’t bother,’ said Crimson curtly. ‘We can look after ourselves.’
‘Oh, it’s no bother,’ said Edith. She nudged her horse and followed Hazlitt. At the crest of the hill she stopped and turned back to the Muddles. ‘Oh, I should warn you. The hounds love to play. They’re particularly fond of a game I taught them only recently. It’s called it “Catch the Muddles”. You’ve got about a minute’s headstart.’ Edith launched her horse down the slope, the sound of her laughter hanging in the air.
For a few seconds, Crimson stared in horror at the spot where Edith had been. Such malice and cruelty were beyond her understanding, and she stood there for a moment, dazed and bewildered.
Calamity was no less confused but her eyes were fixed on the four spoorhounds. And if one thing was perfectly clear to her, it was that they weren’t going to like the game the hounds were about to play. The sooner she and Crimson left, the better.
She barked sharply at Crimson. ‘We need to run. We have to get away from here. Now!’
Crimson snapped out of her daze and looked over at the hounds. They stood, silen
t and expectant, their muscles quivering as they waited. Their eyes, wide and dark, never wavered from the Muddles. Calamity was right. They had to get away. They had already lost several precious seconds. But Crimson knew she and Calamity would never be able to outpace the hounds.
‘This way, Calamity!’ she yelled and started to run.
Calamity had readied herself to head south, towards Home. When she realised that Crimson had run in the opposite direction, she tried to change direction mid leap. With her back legs going in one direction and her front legs in another, the puppy slid along the leaves. She regained her feet and raced after Crimson. As she passed the spoorhounds, she could have sworn that they were laughing at her.
Calamity followed Crimson towards the rocks about two hundred paces to their right. The puppy couldn’t see that they would offer much protection. It was just a pile of boulders at the base of a rocky hill. Even if they made it to the top of the tallest rock, Calamity had no doubt that the spoorhounds would have little difficulty leaping after them. Yet, all her life, Calamity had trusted Crimson. And she did so now.
Crimson knew they would have no chance against the dogs if they were caught in the open, and the hounds would be on them before they could find a tree to climb. She could also see that the group of rocks wouldn’t provide much defence. What she wanted, though, was the means to fight back.
As she ran, she scanned the ground ahead. A few paces to her right, she spotted it. She swerved and, without slowing, reached down and snatched a stout branch.
The rocks formed an untidy pyramid, no more than a few metres wide at the base. Crimson leapt on to the first rock, and then up on to the next. At the tip of the pyramid was a boulder, about shoulder height. Reaching down, she scooped Calamity into her arms and put her atop the rock. Then she rested her stick against the boulder.
She glanced back at the dogs. They stood motionless, staring, waiting for the moment when their training let them loose. She knew that moment could only be seconds away. She ran to the back of the pyramid, where it joined the slight hill. There she found what she was hoping for. Quickly, she began gathering smaller rocks, filling the pockets of her fire jacket with stones the size of her fist. When her pockets were full, she grabbed one in each hand, and then ran back to Calamity.
