Nim didn’t wait as long as Blink. She gulped the liquid in one go.
“How long does it take?” she asked Islebill as she handed her the empty bottle through the cage.
“A few minutes. Once you’re ready, I’ll chop you both up and put you on to boil. I’ll have the chicken for lunch and the wolf for dinner. I’ll have enough leftovers for weeks.”
While she waited for her lunch and dinner to morph into shape, Islebill scooped her porridge into a bowl. She sat down at the kitchen table alone and began to eat.
By the time Islebill had finished her first bowl of porridge, nothing had happened.
“That’s strange,” she said. She served herself another bowl. She was halfway through that one, when she grew concerned. “Something’s wrong,” she said. “You should be changing by no— bacawk!”
Islebill clamped her hand over her mouth. She looked down at her bowl of porridge and clucked again.
“No. No. No,” Islebill said. She jumped up from the table and ran over to the counter. She smelled her porridge and frowned. Then, she smelled the two empty bottles. They held no scent of potion. She turned to Nim and Blink. “You switched the— bacawk! Bacawk! Bacawk!”
Islebill clucked about the kitchen for a few seconds. Then several feathers sprouted out of her head. She suddenly grew very short and her legs started to sprout scales.
“I need the remedy,” she said. “I need the reversing potion.” She began to run towards her bedroom. As she did, her arms shrank away and wings took their place.
“Bacawk! Bacawk!” she screamed as she ran around in circles. Her coat swarmed on the ground around her, pulling at her legs.
“Quick, Nibbles,” Nim yelled. “Now’s your chance.”
Nibbles ran out of the cage and over to the coat. He darted about the angry chicken, checking every pocket of the coat until he found the iron key. He raced back to the cage and put it in the lock. The key turned, and the cage clicked open. Nim and Blink grabbed their bags and climbed away from the bars.
By now, Islebill was almost entirely a chicken. The only human-looking part left was her nose. It appeared her brain was still working too. Realizing her prey was about to escape, she bolted towards her second cupboard and jumped inside. She was going to get the reversing potion.
“Now’s our chance,” Blink said.
They ran towards the door. Islebill had unlocked it that morning. They raced out into the frosty morning air and bolted down the garden path. Nim kicked the gate open and they raced off into the woods.
A few minutes later they heard a woman call faintly through the trees: “Come back here, dears!” But they were so far from the cottage the witch didn’t have the power to magic them back.
25
THE WOODLAND WOLVES
A new day dawned as Nim and Blink left the witch’s cottage behind. Weak sunlight filtered through the trees. For the rest of the day, Nim and Blink searched the woods for their missing friend. Free from the scary gaze of Islebill, Nibbles sat on Nim’s shoulder. His delicate whiskers twitched back and forth as he sought out the scents of the forest.
“Can you smell Otto?” Nim asked.
Nibbles shook his head. He couldn’t sniff out a single boy in a vast wood.
“Never mind,” Nim said. “We’ll have to find another way.”
“Really?” Blink asked. “I’m not sure of that at all.”
By the time night fell, they had found no trace of Otto. He had disappeared just like his mother.
“Well, at least we’re a long way from Islebill’s cottage,” Nim said, trying to find a positive.
“I guess,” Blink replied. He was staying close to Nim. The woods were scary at night. The wind moaned through the branches and swirled around their ears; the trees moved like giant ghosts; and, once in a while, the lone cry of an owl would pierce the air and make them jump.
With no warm chimney to sleep beside, they snuggled up against a tree. It creaked and groaned in the cold wind, as if trying to speak to them: perhaps warning them to get away. They used Blink’s torn coats for a blanket.
Nim and Blink took turns keeping watch. But by midnight, exhausted from a day of walking, they were both fast asleep. Even Nibbles couldn’t keep his eyes open.
Several hours passed. Occasionally, an owl would hoot nearby and wolves would howl faintly through the trees. Then, the howls grew very close and the hooting stopped.
“What’s that?” Blink said. The howls had pulled him awake.
“I don’t know,” Nim whispered, rubbing sleep from her eyes. “You were keeping watch.”
“No, I wasn’t. It was your turn.”
Nim was still arguing with Blink when Nibbles pulled on her coat. The rat pointed over her shoulder. Nim turned around.
Seven wolves stood before them. They bared their teeth and growled.
“Oh no,” Blink said. “They’re going to eat us. This is just as bad as being at Islebill’s.”
The wolves growled louder and moved closer.
“Islebill?” The word came from the mouth of the middle wolf. He was speckled grey and tan and larger than the others.
“It can talk,” Blink squeaked.
“We all can,” said another wolf.
“Are you friends of Islebill?” the speckled one asked. He was the leader.
“Friends?” Anger took away some of Nim’s fear. “Of course not. She trapped us in her cottage. We only just escaped.”
The wolf studied Nim’s face and sniffed the air. It was like the wolf was trying to sniff out a lie. Not finding one, his hackles dropped.
“We are not friends of Islebill either,” the leader said. “Fifty years ago, she trapped us in her cottage. Back then we were men: woodcutters from Hodeldorf. She welcomed us into her cottage when we got lost and offered us a warm meal. She wanted to make wolf stew, but she didn’t have any wolf meat. So she magicked us into wolves and used my own axe to chop poor Wilhelm up.”
The other wolves howled at the moon in sadness at the loss of their friend.
“We escaped before she could eat us,” said a wolf as white as the moon. “We had hoped her magic would fade when we got away. But it hasn’t. We’re just getting older and slower and colder. We’re dying as wolves, but we were born as men.”
“I’m so sorry,” Nim said.
“We thought Islebill might be behind all of this,” said the lead wolf.
“Behind what?” Nim asked.
“Behind the winter that doesn’t end.”
“The cold that doesn’t lift,” said the white wolf.
“The failing sun,” said a black wolf standing to the left. “The days are getting shorter, and the nights are getting longer. Soon, it will be dark for ever.”
“The woods are losing their magic too,” the lead wolf said. “Years ago, when our fathers’ fathers walked these woods, they were warm and blossoms covered the ground instead of snow. Back then, even the trees in the forest were magical. But the woods have been dying for many, many years. And the magic is dying with them.”
“Why would Islebill make it cold when the cold makes her weak?” Nim said. “It has to be something else.”
“None of the creatures here know what it is,” said the white wolf. “But they all agree on one thing. A woodland creature isn’t behind this. Man is making the world dark.”
“How can you be sure?” Nim said.
“Because people are behind all the bad things that happen in the woods. The felling of the trees: we, ourselves, did that. The burning of the bark. The killing of our wolfkind to make those things you wear to keep warm.” The wolf nodded towards their coats. He had been away from humans for so long he had forgotten what they were called. “It’s so cold even our own fur doesn’t keep us warm.”
Nim knew there were a lot of nasty people in Hodeldorf, like the storekeepers who beat tattercoats out of their stores, like thieves who robbed anyone of everything and like homeowners who kicked children off their roofs when they
had nowhere else to go. But there was only one person she could think of who would be cruel enough to do this.
“I bet it’s Frau Ferber,” she said.
“Frau Ferber?” asked the lead wolf. “Who’s that?”
“A nasty old lady who locks poor children in her factory and uses them to make herself rich off the sale of boot polish. But it can’t be her. Why would she want to make Hodeldorf cold? She doesn’t like the cold more than anyone else. There’s something we’re missing…”
“We are missing it too,” said the lead wolf. “Perhaps if we found what we were missing – what we have lost – the world would grow warm once more.” He looked sadly at the ground. When he raised his eyes, there was a flicker of hunger in them. He stepped closer before shaking his head and edging away.
“We should be off,” said the wolf sadly. “The longer we stay as wolves the less we are like men. One day soon, I fear we will start hunting humans to eat.”
“Wait,” Blink called as they turned to walk away. “Wait just a bit longer. I have something to give you.”
Blink untied the strips of cloth that made their blanket, and, with Nim’s help, stitched them back together. It was a tricky job, and they didn’t have enough time to do it neatly. Some pieces got mixed up and some edges didn’t match. When they were finished they had seven patchy coats for seven patchy wolves.
“These will keep you warm,” Blink said.
“And remind you that you are still men,” Nim added, “even if sometimes you forget.”
“Thank you,” said the lead wolf as he admired his new coat. “You are kind for humans.”
The wolves were about to leave for a second time when Nim realized they might be able to help with something else.
“Have you seen any others of our kind lately?” she asked. “A boy and a lady perhaps?”
The seven wolves shook their heads.
“We’ve wandered very far,” said their leader. “We haven’t been in this part of the woods for years. If we do see them, would you like us to eat them?”
“Oh, no!” Nim said. “Don’t do that. If you see them, could you tell them their friends are looking for them?”
“We can keep a nose out for them,” the lead wolf said. “But we don’t know what they smell like.”
“Like this.” Blink took off Otto’s coat and held it out to the wolves.
The wolves sniffed the cloth. They could smell the scent of Blink, the scent of the boy who had worn it before, and the faint scent of the woman who had stitched it.
“We will look out for them,” the lead wolf promised. Then, the pack was off, bounding through the tall woods in their new tatty coats.
“Well, they were rather nice,” Blink said.
“I wish we could have given them more than just coats,” Nim said. “What do you think, Nibbles?”
Nim looked down at her pocket, but Nibbles didn’t look out.
“Nibbles?” Nim said a bit louder. She checked all her pockets. But each one was empty. Nibbles was gone.
26
THE MAGICAL PIPE
“Do you think the wolves took him?” Nim asked, as she searched her pockets again.
“I don’t think they would have done that,” Blink said. He checked his pockets as well. But there was no sign of Nibbles.
“Maybe they did it by accident,” Nim said. “Maybe he got stuck in one of their new coats. Wolves!” Nim called. “Wolves, come back. Please! You’ve taken Nibbles!”
Nim’s voice echoed through the woods. But no voices or howls echoed back.
“Maybe he ran away,” Blink said.
Nim glared at him. “Nibbles would never do that. I’m his best friend. We haven’t left each other’s side since we met. Someone must have taken him.”
Nim and Blink searched the forest around them. The darkness made it difficult to see, but they continued throughout the night. By morning, in the first light of the rising sun, they could still find no trace of Nibbles.
It wasn’t until they stopped thumping about amongst the trees that they heard a faint sound.
A pipe echoed through the woods. It played a simple, jolly tune.
“It’s a rather nice song, isn’t it?” Blink said. He was smiling.
“We don’t have time for listening to music. We’ve got more important things to do. We need to find Nibbles and then we’ve got to find Otto.”
But as Nim leant down to search for her rat, the tune changed. It grew quicker and louder. Nim forgot all about Nibbles, and she began talking about the song.
“I’ve never heard one like it. I wonder who’s playing it.”
“Maybe it’s playing itself,” Blink said. He began to follow the music.
“What are you doing?” Nim said. She pulled Blink back. “You can’t just follow anything you hear. What if it’s a trap?”
Blink looked worried for a moment, but then the music grew even louder. A blank smile spread across his face. He pulled free of Nim and walked away. Nim ran after him. She had intended to pull him back, but then the music got a hold of her too. She followed Blink deeper into the woods.
Nim and Blink didn’t have a care in the world as they followed the music. After a long while of walking, a thin, frozen stream appeared up ahead.
The music drifted across the silent river. Nim and Blink followed the stream. With each step they took the music grew louder, and they forgot about everything else. They forgot about losing Nibbles. They forgot about the seven wolves who used to be men. They forgot about the wicked Islebill and the boy and his mother who they had come into the woods to find. They even forgot about Hodeldorf and the tattercoats. It was like the music had slipped into their minds and robbed all other thoughts away.
Eventually they reached a clearing in the woods. They left the safety of the trees. Even if Islebill’s cottage had stood in the centre, they would have continued.
With no trees to catch it, snow swirled down into the clearing. A giant shoe, almost as large as a house, filled the space. A little man sat inside the shoe, playing a pipe. On the ground nearby sat a rat wearing a sky blue coat.
Nibbles. He’d heard the music too.
27
ODE THE GIANT
Even though they had originally set off to find Nibbles, Nim and Blink hardly seemed to notice him as they walked closer to the man in the shoe. They were almost beside the rat when Nim trod on a fallen branch. It snapped in two.
As if the spell cast by the music had been broken, the man stopped playing the pipe. He looked at Nim and Blink. Every piece of the man’s face looked bigger than it should have been, or slightly the wrong size, like they couldn’t decide if they should be big or small. The man had large ears, a small nose and very large green eyes. His hair was a crown of brown leaves that rustled in the wind.
He smiled when he saw them.
“Hello,” he said. Even though he no longer played the pipe, his voice sounded musical.
Now the pipe had stopped playing, its magic stopped too. In an instant, Nim’s thoughts came back to her. The first thought was one of fear. They were in trouble. What did this man want from them? Her second thought was of Nibbles. She needed to get him back.
“You took my Nibbles,” Nim said.
“Did I?” The man followed Nim’s gaze. He seemed to see Nibbles for the first time. “Hello, down there,” he said. “Aren’t you a strange little thing?”
Now that Nibbles was free from the magical pipe, he scurried back to Nim. The man in the shoe did not try to stop him. Nibbles climbed into his favourite pocket and let out a little squeak.
“It’s not your fault, Nibbles,” Nim reassured him. “You didn’t mean to come here. That nasty man made you.”
“Man?” yelled the stranger in the shoe.
Nim and Blink jumped with fright.
“How dare you call me a man? I’m not a man. I’m Ode the Giant.”
“You don’t look like a giant to me,” Blink said. Instantly, he regretted saying that.
He didn’t want to make this creature – man or giant – angry. Who knew what he was capable of? But he needn’t have worried. Ode didn’t look angry. He looked sad.
“That is most likely true,” Ode said softly. “I haven’t looked like a giant in fifty years. I used to be the largest giant in these woods, perhaps in the entire world. This used to be my shoe, did you know?” He looked down at the gigantic shoe he sat in. “When I walked these woods every footfall became a clearing, every sneeze fell like rain, and when I went to the toilet whole rivers were made.”
Nim and Blink wished they hadn’t heard that last bit.
“Still,” Ode said, “it could be worse. I haven’t seen my brother and sister in over twenty years. Last time I saw them, Opus was even smaller than your rat and Odette was the size of a bird. By now they have probably shrunk down to nothing.”
Ode raised the pipe to his mouth and began to play a mournful tune. The music swirled amongst the trees, joining the swirling snow, and the shrinking giant cried. Nim, Blink and Nibbles cried too. But as soon as the music stopped, so did their tears.
“Luckily my pipe shrank with me,” Ode said. “If I didn’t have my pipe to play, I would be awfully lonely.”
“Do you play it all the time?” Blink asked.
Ode nodded. “Except when I’m sleeping. Giants need a lot of sleep; that’s why we live so long. The oldest giant lived to be eight hundred and ninety-six. I wonder how long I’ll live now that I’m small like you.”
“About that,” Nim said, “why are you shrinking?”
“It’s been happening since winter came and didn’t go away. Before it got cold, I used to walk higher than the highest tree. I only ever came out at night in case the men in the town saw. Once, a giant got too close, and the people stabbed him until he couldn’t move. We giants have stayed away from you humans ever since.” Ode looked between the two of them and said, “Are you going to hurt me?”
Nim and Blink shook their heads.
“That’s a relief.” Ode yawned and put his pipe into his pocket.
“How many giants are there?” Nim asked.
“In these woods there’s only me. In about one decade or maybe two I will be too small to see. I’m not sure what will happen then. Maybe I’ll disappear.”
Otto Tattercoat and the Forest of Lost Things Page 12
