by Tracey West
Prologue
Written in Stone
On the top of a very, very high mountain covered in ice and snow, a group of Yeti children sat in a circle around their village leader, the Stonekeeper. His long, white beard touched the ground. He wore a robe made of flat stones. He carried a purple crystal staff that glittered in the light of the campfire.
“The stones are here to protect us and keep us safe,” the Stonekeeper said. All the Yeti children nodded. They knew the history of their world. In the beginning, the first Yetis were created when they fell out of the butt of the Sky Yak. Then they tumbled out onto an island that floated on a sea of endless clouds. And below the clouds was the Great Nothing—nothing but endless blackness. They knew they had to be vigilant to protect their island. They had to feed ice to the Mountain Mammoths who kept the island from sinking.
And every morning a gong had to be rung to wake the Great Glowing Sky Snail. The snail crawled across the sky, bringing light to the village.
All the rules of life for the Yetis were written on the stones.
The Stonekeeper looked at the children. “Who can tell me what will happen if you don’t follow the stones?”
“The Smallfoot will get you!” answered Gwangi, a young Yeti with shaggy purple fur, and the Stonekeeper frowned.
“Ahhhhhhh!” the other Yeti kids shrieked with fright.
“It’s a horrible creature . . . ,” Gwangi continued.
“With flat white teeth,” added Kolka, who wore her hair in a ponytail.
Another Yeti, smaller than the others, jumped up. “And beady little eyes!” Fleem cried.
“And the only hair it has is on the top of its head,” Gwangi said.
“Is that really true?” asked a Yeti named Migo. He’d never heard of a Smallfoot before.
“No, Migo,” said the Stonekeeper firmly. “And how do we know it’s not true? Meechee, tell them.”
“Yes, Father,” replied a Yeti who wore her lavender hair in a long braid. She stood up. “Stone Ten tells us, ‘There is no such thing as a Smallfoot.’ ”
“That’s right,” the Stonekeeper said proudly. He patted her on the head, and then removed Stone Ten from his robe.
“There is no such thing as a Smallfoot!” he said, in a voice that said the discussion was over.
Gwangi, Kolka, and Fleem grumbled, but they didn’t argue with the Stonekeeper. Migo felt relieved—but still, every time he heard the stories, he had questions about things the stones didn’t have answers for. Like, Why was the sky blue? And, Was there more to life than what could be found in the Yeti world?
But he knew he couldn’t ask the questions, because, just like Stone Fifteen said, “Ignorance is bliss!” So he pushed them down inside him and decided to simply forget about them as best he could. And the questions stayed there for years, until Migo grew up.
Little did they realize then that in a few years, those children would become important members of their little village.
Chapter One
Doing What the Stones Say
The last grains of sand trickled from a bottle and fell onto a small wood lever that dropped on one end, raising a feather that tickled a hairy foot. The foot belonged to Migo’s father, Dorgle, who was asleep in bed, until the feather tickled him. He woke up and clapped twice, and fuzzy yellow snails puffed up and glowed, lighting up the room.
He jumped out of bed and walked past his son’s room.
“Migo, up and at ’em! Time to ring the gong!”
The sound of his father’s voice startled the young Yeti awake. He sprang up, ready for action. Over the years he had grown to the size of a young pine tree. Shaggy white fur covered his body, from the top of his head down to the tips of his blue toes. Blue horns stuck out from the sides of his head, and when he yawned, his mouth opened to reveal enormous teeth.
“Oh yeah. Gong time!” Migo cried.
Dorgle was a head shorter than Migo, but wider and furrier, with an impressive fur mustache. As Migo followed him out of the cave, more snails lit up the darkness with their natural glow. But Migo knew it wouldn’t be dark for much longer. He and his father had an important job to do.
They walked out onto a platform that looked out over the Yeti village. The other Yeti were still in their caves, waiting for the day to dawn.
Migo put a helmet on Dorgle’s head, which was flat across the top, rather than pointy like his own. Then he strapped a harness to his father’s chest. Dorgle climbed into a wooden seat that was part of a catapult-like contraption sitting on the platform. Migo began to turn a large paddle wheel that was attached to the seat by a rope. As Migo cranked, Dorgle’s seat slowly moved backward.
“Dad, I was thinking,” Migo said. “Gong Ringer is, like, a really important job, isn’t it?”
“It might be the most important,” Dorgle replied proudly.
“More than Stonekeeper?” Migo asked. “He’s the leader of the whole village.”
“But if I don’t ring the gong, the Great Sky Snail won’t rise and bring light to the village,” Dorgle pointed out. “And then everyone would be in the dark, including . . .”
Migo gasped. “The Stonekeeper! And he can’t do his job in the dark!”
“That’s right, Son!” Dorgle said. “Let’s wake ’em up.” He leaned forward in the seat. “Launch!”
Migo released a lever, and the seat lurched forward, sending Dorgle flying. With perfect aim he flew through a hoop at the end of the platform and then soared over the village to his target—a huge metal gong. He hit it headfirst, and dropped to the ground.
Gooooooooooooooong!
The sound of the gong rang through the village and bounced off the mountain peaks. Dorgle got up, shaking his head, and looked hopefully at the horizon. From the platform Migo did the same.
Very slowly the rays of light began to shine in the sky.
Migo raised his arms. “Woo-hoo! Good one, Dad!” he cheered. “Look at it rise! You did it!”
Migo couldn’t wait until it was his turn to bang the gong and wake the village. For now, he was happy to be helping his dad. He hopped off the platform and slid down into the village using his big Yeti feet like a pair of skis.
Snail lights were starting to come on in every cave as the Yetis woke up and got ready for a busy day. They popped their heads out of windows and doors to greet the morning light—and Migo, as he sailed past them.
Migo passed by a tall tower. At the very top, Yetis rode in a circle on unicycles, turning a wheel that made the tower spin around and around.
As the wheel spun, a pulley lifted up a block of ice—with a Yeti attached to it by his frozen tongue! The pulley dropped the Yeti—and the ice chunk—onto the top of a platform. Then the Yeti pulled his tongue off the ice block and walked away to join a group of Yetis striking an ice cliff with pickaxes.
Migo watched as a different Yeti jumped onto a chunk of ice and rode down the ice cliff, like an extreme athlete on a snowboard. She zoomed past other Yetis all doing the same thing.
When they reached the bottom of the cliff, the ice chunks had turned into smooth balls. The snowboarding Yetis dropped the ice balls off at a giant pile, where other Yetis polished them with their fur.
Migo smiled. “Looks like it’s going to be another perfect day.”
He slid down the main street of the village and skidded to a stop in front of an ice pop stand, where his dad waited for him.
“Two, please,” Dorgle told Frigg, the ice pop vendor.
Frigg gave him the ice pops. Dorgle gave one to Migo, who ate his. Dorgle applied his ice pop to his aching head.
Frigg turned to Migo and asked, “Isn’t today the day?”
“Yep!” Migo replied. “J
ust need a thumbs-up from the Stonekeeper after my practice run, and then I’m officially the assistant Gong Ringer!”
Erp, the village stonecutter, approached. “That’s why you’ll need this, Migo,” he said, handing him a shiny new helmet.
“Thanks, Erp!” Migo said. “I’m going to go try it out. See you at home, Dad!”
“Good luck today, Migo,” Frigg said.
Migo waved. “Thanks!”
He walked up the path back home, humming a happy tune. Along the way he passed some cute toddler Yetis skating on the ice, using their big feet as skates just like Migo did.
“Hey, where’s Soozie?” Migo asked Spike, a young toddler Yeti with spiky hair.
“Look out below!”
Soozie barreled down a hill and hit a ramp that launched her into the air. She landed on a shop awning, bounced off, and crashed into Migo. He laughed.
“Well, the helmet works,” he said, standing up and helping the young Yeti up from the ground.
He marched down the street with the little toddlers at his heels. They walked past a huge pile of the polished ice balls. On the hill above, a group of Yetis were sending the ice balls shooting down a slide made of ice.
Migo picked an ice ball up from the pile, and the toddlers did the same. Then they got in line with other Yetis holding ice balls. When it was Migo’s turn, he dropped his ice ball into the mouth of a large statue.
Just then, Gwangi popped out from behind the statue. He had grown into an enormous Yeti with a round head and body with purple shaggy fur.
“Do you ever ask yourself why we do this?” Gwangi asked. “Something’s going on. I hear noises from deep within the mountain.”
“The Mountain Mammoths,” Soozie said. She already knew the stories of the stones.
Next, Kolka popped out from behind the statue.
“Mountain Mammoths? And you believe that?” Kolka asked.
Gwangi’s eyes narrowed. “All part of the cover-up.”
The kids looked at Gwangi and Kolka, wide-eyed. Migo swept them up and moved them away.
“Hey, kids, don’t listen to them,” Migo said. He stopped and lowered his voice. “They’re a little weird.”
Soozie looked back at Gwangi. “What’s he saying about a cover-up?”
“Whoa, whoa. No, guys!” Migo cried. “You’re questioning the stones, and you can’t do that!”
Soozie frowned, and Migo understood her skepticism a little bit. But he’d learned long ago that there was no point in asking questions.
“When you have a question, just stuff it down inside,” he advised. “We can make it a game! Let’s try it!” He took a deep breath and motioned pushing something down.
The little Yetis copied him.
“Yay! Push! Push! Push!” the little Yetis sang out, making the same pushing motion.
“Great!” Migo said. But maybe it isn’t so great, he thought.
The toddlers followed him as he continued his walk, deep in thought. Over the years he must have dropped thousands of ice balls into that statue’s mouth. And thousands of times he’d wondered why he was doing it. And every time he’d asked, he’d gotten the same answer. . . . Because the stones say so!
And so he buried his questions deep inside, like he’d shown the kids how to do. It was a lot easier to just enjoy the beautiful day and the beautiful snow and not think about why things were the way they were.
“What could be better than this?” Migo asked, looking around the village. “It’s perfection!”
“No it’s not,” said Fleem, who was still shorter than all the other Yetis his age. Migo ignored him.
Kolka appeared next to him. “There’s gotta be more,” she said, and Migo just kept walking.
Then Gwangi bounded up to them. “We should be asking more questions,” he said, and Migo steered the toddlers away from him again.
“Ignore them,” he told the kids, wanting to protect them. “Look around us. The ice is glistening. Everybody is busy and happy doing their jobs. Life really is perfect!”
His words echoed down the street, and he closed his eyes, because he knew if he said it enough, and said it loudly, it almost felt like things really were perfect.
Almost . . . , repeated a little voice inside his head, and he did what he always did. He pushed it down, and he kept going.
Chapter Two
Launch!
“Practice gong!”
Dorgle shouted the warning from the end of the launching platform. This was Migo’s first time training to be the Gong Ringer, and Dorgle didn’t want anybody to be confused and think that morning had started all over again. (And also he didn’t want anybody to get squashed if Migo missed his target.)
Other Yetis spread the word around the village.
“Practice gong!”
“Practice gong!”
“Practice gong!”
Migo sat in the launch chair where his father had sat that morning. He strapped on his helmet.
“You ready?” Dorgle asked.
“Beyond ready!” Migo replied. “I can’t wait until this is my actual job.”
“You’re about to join a long line of family greats. Erp, Dottard, Aunt BamBam, Grandpa Flathead,” Dorgle listed, and then he got dreamy eyes. “And of course your mom. She could bang a gong like there was no tomorrow.”
Migo nodded. As a tiny Yeti he’d watched his mom launch off the platform many times.
“Wish she was here to teach you,” Dorgle said with a sigh.
“You’re doing great, Dad,” Migo assured him, and it was true. Dorgle had done a wonderful job raising Migo by himself, although the villagers had helped.
Dorgle smiled at him. “Thanks, Son.”
A question popped into Migo’s mind—one he knew he might not get an answer to.
“Dad, when I become Gong Ringer, will I really end up being as short as you?” he asked.
“Yep! I used to be your height,” Dorgle replied.
“And will my head become flat, like yours?” he asked hopefully.
“Absolutely,” Dorgle promised, and he whacked the top of his head.
Migo grinned. “Awesome!”
Dorgle leaned in to his son. “Okay, first—check your wind. It doesn’t take much to blow you off course.”
Migo licked his finger and held it up. He didn’t feel any gusts. “Wind. Check!” he reported.
“Good. Now true your aim,” Dorgle told him. “You’ll mess up big-time if your aim isn’t true.”
Migo held a finger in front of his eye and lined it up with the giant hoop in front of the platform—the aiming circle.
“Aim. Check!”
“Great,” Dorgle said. “Now, this is important. Even though you know it’s gonna hurt, you gotta hit it head-on.”
“Does it really hurt?” Migo asked.
Dorgle nodded. “At first, yes. But then not so much. See?” He picked up a small rock and whacked the top of his head with it. He didn’t flinch.
“Cool,” Migo said.
Dorgle walked back to the paddle wheel. “Say the word, Son.”
Migo squinted ahead. The gong was in his sights. His heart was pounding. He was about to make his first launch!
“Launch!” Migo yelled.
Dorgle released the lever. Migo sprang forward—and then fell flat on his face.
“Did I mention you gotta keep your feet off the floor?” his dad asked.
Migo groaned. “Nope.”
“Sorry,” Dorgle said.
Migo got back to his feet and back into the seat. His dad cranked the wheel again. This time Migo made sure both of his feet were off the floor.
“Launch!” he cried again.
When he tried again, he flew forward—but his aim was off. He hit the edge of the hoop and fell back onto the platform.
Migo tried again.
“Launch!”
The seat flipped backward, sending Migo tumbling. He climbed into the seat and tried again.
“Launch!
”
The seat didn’t fly. Instead it spun around and around and around. . . .
“Launch!”
Migo launched straight up into the air, like a rocket! Dorgle gazed up after him.
“Never seen that happen,” Dorgle remarked.
Migo was sore and pretty beaten up, but his spirit wasn’t broken. He climbed back into the seat and gave his dad one more thumbs-up.
“Launch!”
Dorgle released the lever. Migo sailed through the air, straight through the aiming circle.
“Woo-hoo!” Migo yelled.
“Way to go, Migo!” Dorgle cheered.
What an amazing feeling! Migo thought as the air rippled through his fur. And what an amazing view!
The entire village spread out before him. The shops, the giant statue, the ice pile, the palace, Meechee. . . .
Meechee was standing on the palace steps with her father. It looked like she and the Stonekeeper were talking. Meechee was smiling and seated on top of her pet mammoth, Blossom. But then Meechee looked up, right at Migo. He stared back at her.
He’d had a crush on Meechee ever since they were kids. Meechee was so smart! She’d memorized all the stones before anyone else in school, and she didn’t smile much, but when she did, it could melt the biggest ice chunk, Migo thought. And her hair . . . her hair was the nicest shade of lavender, and she wore it in a long, thick side braid.
She noticed me! he thought happily.
Then he heard his father’s panicked voice from the platform. “Migo, true your aim! True your aim!”
Migo looked away from Meechee—and realized he was off course. But it was too late to fix the problem. He soared over the gong, and over the mountain wall that bordered the village.
Splat! He crashed into the snow.
He stood up and shook the snow off his fur. Dazed, he looked around.
He’d landed in the ice cliffs! The ice cliffs led to the edge of the world . . . and the Great Nothing.
“Uh-oh,” he said, gazing around. “Not supposed to be out here.”
Then he felt the cold wind on his head and realized that his helmet had flown off.
“My helmet? Where’d it go?”
He walked in a circle, trying to locate his missing helmet. Then he heard a buzzing noise coming from the clouds.
