Brian Jacques - Rakkety Tam

Armel stammered, “B . . . but I didn’t know, I thought it was poison!”

Brooky scoffed. “Just look at its back, the thing hasn’t got a diamond pattern. Adders have diamond patterns along their backs. Grass snakes only have markings on their sides. Look.”

She wiped the unconscious reptile’s back off with her cloak hem. There, beneath the layer of ditch mud and rotten leaves, was the black V-marked head and zigzag marks of an adder.

Brooky thought this was hilarious. “Oh hahahahoohoo! Silly me, it was an adder after all. Well, the food looks alright, so there’s no harm done, really—except to Mister Death there. He’ll have a headache that should last him until midsummer. Let’s get out of this slimy place. I’ve never liked hanging about in ditches.”

Armel joined in the spirit of the thing. Nobeast could stay gloomy for long in the company of the happy otter. “Neither have I. Let’s leave Mister Death to his nap.”

Laughing together, they climbed out of the ditch and headed into the woodlands. They had not gone far when Brooky halted, scratching her ear. “How will we know we’re going southwest? I’m not too bright on all that northing and southing business.”

Armel reassured her. “It’s quite simple, really. The sun rises in the east, you see, so if you have it directly at your back, you’ll be going west. South is off to the left if west is straight ahead, so we take the middle course, and we’ll be travelling southwest. Get it?”

Brooky shook her head. “I’m still as baffled as when you started explainin’. So you be the pathfinder, and I’ll deal with any hungry snakes that we come across!”

They trekked all night until the dawn sunrays told them they were on the right track.

Armel rubbed her eyes. She was feeling quite tired. “Walk by night and rest by day, that’s what we were told. So let’s make camp, have a spot of breakfast and a nice little snooze. Does that sound like a good idea?”

Brooky grinned from ear to ear. “Do you hear me objectin’? How about camping at the base of that big elm over there?”

They spread their cloaks and opened the ration packs. Armel opened one parcel that contained two wheaten loaves. She bit into one, passing her friend the other.

“Mmm, this tastes good! Look, it has cheese, mushrooms, carrots and onions baked inside. What’s yours like?”

Brooky took a healthy mouthful from her loaf, which was sweetened ryebread. “Haha, this is full of thick honey, chopped hazelnuts, cooked apple and blackberry. Good old Friar Glisum, he’s given us two courses in two loaves. Tell you what, we’ll swap when we’re halfway through ’em. Then we’ll have had main meal an’ dessert together.”

Armel found one of the drink flasks and two beakers. “I’ll go and find some water to mix with Burlop’s fruit syrup. There might be a stream or a spring nearby.”

The squirrelmaid was not gone for long. Brooky was dozing gradually. She opened one eye when her friend returned. “Well, did you find some water?”

Armel slumped down beside her. “No, couldn’t see any around, but I did find something.”

The ottermaid’s eyelids began drooping. “What was that?”

Armel yawned. “The path from last night. It runs straight with the direction we’re going. We’ve been struggling along through the woodlands all night, not knowing that the path was hardly a stone’s throw away. It must run southwest for quite a bit. So, Miss Puddenhead, who said that we should take to the woods because the path goes straight to the south?”

The ottermaid imitated a snoring sound. “Not me, must have been you. Don’t disturb me, I’m asleep!”

Armel lay down, shielding her eyes from the sunlight. “It was you, you great, fat-tailed fibber. Good night!”

Brooky wrinkled her nose. “Heeheehee, don’t you mean good day?”

Armel smiled. “Don’t speak to me, I’m not talking to you!”

Brooky snuggled down into her cloak. “I’m not speaking, I’m sleeping. Don’t wake me, please. Heeheehee!”

The day was both warm and pleasant, heralding a fine summer to come. Butterflies and wood moths fluttered noiselessly through the tranquil woodland glade. Bees droned soothingly amid small blossoms of white campion, whitlow grass, sweet woodruff and blackberry. By midmorn the ground was dry and sunkissed. Partially shaded by the foliage of the big elm, the travellers enjoyed their first sleep outside the protection of Redwall Abbey. Morning drifted serenely into noontide, shifting the shadows as the sun began its descent from midday zenith.

Brooky, the more volatile of the two, awoke around midnoon, with sun shining in her eyes and an inquisitive yellow brimstone butterfly fluttering about her half-open mouth. The ottermaid blew it away and tried to resume her slumber. The combination of daylight and a growing thirst, however, kept her awake. She looked across at Armel, still sleeping peacefully, wrapped loosely in her cloak.

Brooky sat up, yawning loudly and heaving gusty sighs. The moment she saw that the sounds were making Armel stir, she began complaining. “Oh, it’s not a bit of use, I can’t sleep anymore!”

Her friend awakened, blinking. “Why, what’s the matter?”

The ottermaid cast aside her cloak and stood up. “ ’Cos the flaming sun’s in my eyes, I’m being trampled on by all sorts of insects and my tongue’s like a baked sandal. I’m thirsty, aren’t you?”

To her surprise, Armel arose and began folding her cloak. “Aye, let’s go and find some water. I could do with a drink.”

They broke camp and walked to within sight of the path, heading southwest alongside the ditch.

Before long, Brooky stopped. She held up a paw. “Listen, can you hear the sound of water? Come on, pal, it’s coming from down that way!”

It was an underground rivulet, trickling out of the ditchside. Armel tested the water; it was clear and cold. She filled both their beakers about a quarter full with Burlop Cellarhog’s fruit syrup, then topped them up with the water.

Brooky stirred hers with a twig and took a good swig. “Hahahaha, good old Burlop. Delicious!”

Armel also found the taste of the mixture very pleasant. They each drank two beakers before their thirst was satisfied. Both travellers, feeling quite refreshed at last, were ready to continue their journey.

Brooky suddenly vanished momentarily, then returned carrying a long, thick branch. “Haha, this is the very thing we need! No more falling down ditches and fighting adders for us, pal. Watch this!”

Pushing one end of the branch down firmly into the bed of the ditch, she vaulted across onto the path. “Hohohoho! Clever young me, eh? Come on, miss, your turn!”

She pushed the branch back to Armel, who took a tight grip on it and swung herself easily over the ditch. The squirrelmaid was both surprised and pleased with herself. “My goodness, I am getting quite daring! What would Abbot Humble have said if he could’ve seen me leaping a ditch?”

Brooky patted Armel on the back. “He’d have said well done! Right, let’s step out now. We’ve got plenty o’ daylight left, and it’s a good straight path.”

Between them the pair covered a fair distance. The shadows were starting to lengthen as they marched down the path, with Brooky singing out in a fine melodious voice to keep them in step.

“There was an old otter who lived down a well,

the truth of this tale I can readily tell.

His wife an’ ten young ’uns lived with him as well,

an’ they dwelt there together for quite a long spell.

Left right! Two three! March along in step with me!

Such an odd situation did ever you see!

Then one frosty morning there came a good mole,

he waggled his tail as he peeped down the hole.