My legs is short but I can run fast – you gots to be able to run when a mine tunnel is collapsing on ye – and I can trace them ahead of me by the crackling of their carrier bags. Still, I'm more've a sprinter and me legs begin to fail as they cover more distance. Lucky then, that they stops so suddenly that I barrels into the backs of their legs.
Sable's shaking Buck by the shoulders. 'What do you mean you've left it?' she's screaming. 'How could you be so careless?'
Buck can barely talk for sobbing. 'I didn't m-mean to . . . there wasn't . . . there wasn't . . . time . . .'
'Hush child, hush. What've ye lost?' I says, and I pulls him low and gathers him into a cwtch. He needs it and buries his head against me shoulders like a babe.
'My coat,' he bawls. 'I left it behind.'
'We have to go back for it,' Sable says grimly.
I looks at her with surprise. I thought she would run no matter what. 'It'll be safe,' I assures. 'Hansard'll think of something. He usually does.' As I says it, the sound of the growling dogs comes back to my mind. There's no talking your way around dogs like with people. 'We should prob'ly go back and check on him, though.'
I think about telling Sable that she shouldn't have run – but what would it prove, now? It would've been easier if she hadn't, but there's no accounting for survival instinct.
I addresses her bluntly. 'Can ye tell me first, please, the nature of them that hunts you? What manner o' beasts are they? What magicks or suchlike might we be encounterin'?'
'They are just men,' she spits. 'Evil, evil men, with evil dogs that bite and shake you in their mouth.'
'They put us in cages,' Buck whispers.
'I see.' My suspicions be confirmed, right enough. 'Then here be our plan. Back to the car wi' both of ye, soft and quiet like. We see what state me Partner's in – hopefully still fit to drive. You kiddies get straight into the car – don't argue. I'll see about freeing up Hansard so's he can join ye. He'll take ye far away from here. Trust on it.'
Sable pauses. 'And what about you?'
'I be distractin' men and dogs away, mebbe. I'll look after meself, girl, don't you worry on that. Hurry now. No tellin' what extra mischief that twpsyn's got himself into. Has a knack fer it, he does.'
We creeps back to the aqueduct. The dogs don't be barking no more, but there's pained snorts and snuffles what sound animal-like. Buck's ears be pricking, eyes wide wi' true terror. I motions him next to Sable – though no need, as he sticks to her like gum anyways. Ready? my eyes ask. Sable nods. Clutches her bag tight in one hand and Buck's shoulder in the other.
I peels away and hurry up to the car first. The men are obscured from view on the other side of it. I goes underneath, crawling on my belly. My eyes are good in the dark an' don't need the glare of torchlight to see the right mess me Partner has got himself in.
Hansard is backed up against the wall, holding somethin' out in his hand like a weapon. One of the men is doubled over retching; the other is covering his face with an arm and slowly advancing. The dogs, I sees three of them, all squirming in a heap pawing at their noses as if overcome with madness. A whiff of something vile hits my nose, and I realise what Hansard's got in his hand.
'Ye mad bastard,' I mutters, aghast.
He's only gone and opened the Triple Distilled Odious Miasma, the utter ffwl. We'd agreed never to touch that stuff again after what happened last time. Nearly a month before the stink was out of the car. I was tasting it in my pasties for weeks.
I dunno how Hansard was still standing. Maybe he'd managed to lob the stink at them from afar somehow, but he obviously missed one of them. The last man standing is being cautious, but he'll soon work out that Hansard won't dare open the bottle again at point blank range.
The shadows show me this man is a broad one, muscles like a blacksmith and face as ugly as an unlucky blacksmith. I reckons I could jump on the his back, bite his ear off or something. As I crawls to the edge under the car, my hand knocks into something smooth and round.
I stares in befuddlement for a moment, then realise they must have fallen out when the kiddies made their run for it. There's five or six within arm's reach.
Slowly, I smiles a big, wide grin.
I grabs the first crystal ball and huffs on it. 'Wakey wakey,' I says. 'I hears there's some nice chappies who'd like to talk wi' ye. They wants to hear all about yer life and accomplishments and such.' I gives the silent glass a tap. 'Come on now. I hear there's tea and biccies, too.'
'Biscuits?' says a faint voice from within.
'Yep. Them hob-nobbly ones wi' the chocolate on.'
'Did someone say hobnobs?' pipes up a second voice to my left.
'The finest,' I says gleefully, and I starts rolling out every one I can find. It spreads like a tremor as they each wake up, the voices getting louder and louder as they roll closer towards Hansard and the men. The man that ain't gagging has a joyously stupefied look on his face as the disembodied crowd pours out their demands.
'Where are the hobnobs?'
'Who woke me up?'
'I would love a cup of tea.'
'Someone fetch a nurse . . .'
'Is that my Billie, there?'
'CAN I HAVE A BISCUIT, PLEASE?'
The big man is swiping madly at the air around him. I can't help but cackle when I understands – he don't know where the voices are coming from, and he can't see the crystal balls in the dark! He thinks he's being attacked by tea and biscuit ghosts!
Hansard's already slipped away.
'Ey, gwas!' I pops out from hiding. 'Not bad, right?' Then I wrinkles my nose with disgust. 'You stink, gwas.'
'Hazards of the job,' he says agitatedly. 'Did you find the kids? We need to go!'
I points to where I left them, but in looking up I sees Sable's face peering at me from inside the car window. I nods to her. 'They's good. Let's go.'
We piles in and Hansard peels the car away with a squeal of frantic tires. No need, I thinks, watching the mess we've left behind us. Them dogs might've lost their noses forever, and them evil men will be thinking twice about setting after their quarry again, that's for sure!
Yellow streetlamps strobe across our laps until we hit the edge of town and rural country roads swallow us in the night.
Buck cuddles up to Sable in the back. She strokes his hair, the first real affection I seen from her. Her face is still hard though, like she ain't yet willing to believe they're out of trouble.
I holds the roadmap under my bluecap's light and give Hansard directions on where to go.
It's a few hours' drive, and dawn is peeking over the fields when we eventually pull up into a lay-by.
'We're here,' Hansard says, then checks his mirror and sees them both asleep.
We sits quiet like, until he breaks the silence. 'Bit on the nose this, isn't it?'
'What d'ye mean?'
'What with this being a deer park, and the kid's name being Buck. Are you thinking what I'm thinking?'
'I gots some idea. Ye seen what's in them bags o' theirs?'
'Yes. Brings to mind selkies.'
'What's them?'
'A type of shapeshifter. Live in the ocean. They look like seals, usually. Until they take their skin off. Then they're, you know, human.'
'I ain't never seen the ocean.'
'Really?'
I gives 'im a look. 'What oceans you think there be underground, twpsyn?'
'All right, all right. I doubt if these kids came from the sea, though. They must have parents somewhere. Who named them?'
'The men did.' The girl's voice shuts us both up. We had no notion she were awake. Her sharp little eyes pierce us both in the rear-view mirror. '"Fetch the sable," is what they'd say when they wanted me out of my cage.'
Hansard cocks his head. 'Where are you from, really?'
She shrugs. 'Mountains. Trees. Snow. It was high and cold.' She pauses. 'I don't know where Buck comes from. Our cages just happened to be next to each other.'
'And how did you end up in a cage?'
'Nasty trap,' she hisses. 'And then it was a horrid iron collar around my neck so I couldn't escape.'
'I notice ye ain't wearin' such a collar now,' I says.
Her smile is a bit nasty, but probably deserved, I thinks. 'That was their mistake. They took the iron off so that they could force us to remove our coats. They thought I wouldn't bite them with human teeth. They were wrong.'
Hansard nods, putting thoughts together. 'Black Market poachers, I should think. I saw a selkie coat for sale, once. Always wondered what happened to its owner . . .'
I nudges him to be quiet as I sees Buck blinking awake.
'Are we here?' he mumbles sleepily.
'Aye, lad. Are ye ready to take a look?'
He sits up eagerly and gathers his bag in his arms.
We steps out into the dawn. Hansard is holding up the map and turning it every which way. 'I'm pretty sure it's just the other side of this hedge, if we can find an opening.'
'Over here!' We turns to see Buck scrambling through a small gap in the branches. Sable follows swift behind, and me as well, leaving Hansard muttering to hisself behind.
'. . . prickly bugger, this . . .'
We emerges to a wide, rolling land. Gentle sloping hills with trees scattered here and there, and what looks to be some forest in the distance. It's an open space with open sky above it, such as might be trusted to open up the soul. I takes a big breath in of morning air. There are many sights ye don't see inside a mine, and this is one of them.
Hansard makes it through. 'Looks like a bit of a ditch there, but I'm sure you kids can scramble over it. What do you think–?' His voice trails off. My eyes land on the same thing as his: a soft little creature with rounded ears and thick brown fur looking at us from the ground. It stands upright on its hind paws, whiskers quivering, as it stares at us with its shiny coal-speck eyes.
'What is that, a stoat?' Hansard murmurs.
'Looks more like a pine marten t'me, gwas . . .'
Buck is rummaging hurriedly in his carrier bag. He pulls out the coarse reddish-brown hide I'd spyed earlier – in better light I can see there are white spots on it too. He also pulls out the plastic toy, Rocky, and places it carefully on the grass at his feet.
He looks at us briefly, a little nervous smile playing on his lips. 'Um. Thank you. I'm glad there are people like you. Sable would say so, too.'
Before we can says anything more, he throws the bristly fur over his head. It wraps around him as if it's alive, fitting to his shape, and then not his shape as it fills out, stretches and distorts, and in a split-second which leaves me feeling like my eyes have hiccupped, there be standing a skinny fallow deer in Buck's place.
Hansard and I be suddenly mute. The young buck bows his head to us, and then very delicately picks up Rocky in his mouth and trots away.
The little marten flicks its tail and twists fluidly onto all-fours. It gives us one last look with a twitch of its nose, and then scampers after the deer.
We watch them disappear into the distance.
Hansard clears his throat. 'Well. That sure was something.'
'We did right by 'em, gwas.'
'I'm sure we did. Once again, though, I can't help but observe how we've come away with nothing to show for our efforts. You might even say that we're poorer for it.'
'Them crystal balls were never gunna sell, gwas.' I smirks at him, knowing my next remark is sure to get under his skin. 'Besides, ye be all the richer fer havin' saved two lost souls today.'
He grunts at me and walks back to the car without a word. I smiles to meself and take the pleasure of an extra moment to enjoy the landscape before me. It's a big world for sure. And many people in it all trying to find their way, for better an' for worse.
Just as well then, I thinks as I climbs back into my seat next to Hansard, that I be lucky enough to have a friend to be finding my way along with.
As we pull out onto quiet country roads under a clear open sky, I sings softly to myself.
'Dinogad's coat were speckled, speckled,
From the skin of a pine marten it were made . . .'
* * *
Author's Note
Wheeee! So, what did you think? Overall I'm pretty happy with this one, but there are already some extra details I will probably add in the re-write. Is there anything you feel is missing? Do you still have burning questions that haven't been answered? Tell me now, so I can look at answering them in the edit!
See you next week for Episode 3.
:P