Brian Jacques - Mossflower

me show you an old warrior trick my father taught me." He rummaged some smooth

pebbles from his sling pouch. "Try sucking one of these. I know it isn't as

good as a drink, but a pebble will keep your mouth moist and stop you drying

up."

Being woodlanders, they were not used to traveling through soft sand. Even

Log-a-Log, who had made such a journey before, found the constant sinking of

paws into dry shifting grit very tiring. All four soon sat exhausted on top of

a dune. Martin picked up some sand. Letting it run through his paws, he

scanned the distance to where the mass of rock stood, but there was no light

issuing from it in daytime.

Gonff spoke his thoughts aloud. "There stands Salaman-dastron, mateys. And

here we sit, as far away from it as ever. Not a crust nor a drink between us,

and sand all around. It's certainly hard going."

Log-a-Log stood up, brushing his fur free of sand.

"Wait here. IVe traveled in sand before, I may be able to help."

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He scrambled off among the dunes.

Dinny scooped a small hole. He watched it fill up again. "Moi oP granfer

Dinny'd never b'lieve thiz, stan* on moi tunnel."

Martin stretched out upon the dune. "Well, at least we've come this far. Don't

worry, mates. We'll make it somehow."

Log-a-Log returned carrying four thick pieces of wood-branches he had found at

the edge of the dunes.

"Here, trim these up," he told diem. "They'll make good walking staves to help

us through the sand."

They set about trimming the branches with teeth, claws and knives.

Then they set off again. With the staves, the going was slightly better. Every

once in a while they spotted a small toad or a frilled newt from a distance,

but the creatures would either ignore them or scuttle off among the sandhills.

There was also the odd small bird, which had to be shooed off with staves when

it became too inquisitive.

Log-a-Log found some soft grass with a milky sap, and they chewed it as he

conjectured what lay ahead.

"Pretty soon we'll be out of these dunes and onto the firm sand. Maybe then

I'll find something to eat. No water, though. Trouble is that most things on

the shore taste salty, and that makes you want water even more. Oh, test the

sand with your staves as we go. Here and mere you may find sinking sands.

Watch out for those big seabirds too—gulls and such. They'll gobble up

anything at all. Show them you're not afraid; whack out at them with your

staves, then they'll leave you alone. Now, if you see any pools of water,

don't drink from them—it's all seawater, full of salt, tastes very nasty. One

last thing, stick together and don't wander off."

"That all, nothing else?" Gonff laughed and waved his staff. "Good, then what

are we lagging for?"

To their amazement, the mousethief skipped off singing,

I mustn't drink the water,

And there may be nought to eat.

Those gulls may see a mousethief

As just a tasty treat.

I step out bravely on the quest,

Across this funny land,

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And when I disappear they'll say, "He's found the sinking sand."

"Nothing keeps our Gonff down for long," Martin laughed. "Come on, let's press

on,"

They came out of the dunes at midafternoon. Before them stretched the shore:

flat solid sand, dotted with small rocky outcrops. The sun glinted like gold

leaf on the shimmering sea.

Log-a-Log ignored it and walked on. His three companions, however, could not

help stopping momentarily to stare in awe at the distant reaches of mighty

water. It staggered the imagination of woodlanders who had never witnessed

such a spectacle.

Dinny could scarce credit his first sight of the sea.

"Hurr, oi sees it, but oi doant berleeve it. Whurr do it all come from,

Gloglog?"

"They say it's always been there," the shrew shrugged. "Like the sky and the

ground. See this sand here with ridges on it like little waves? Well, that's

where the tidewater comes up to. You'll probably see it flooding in soon. Keep

your paws on the smooth sand, here, this side of all these shells and

suchlike. That's called a tideline."

Dinny was fascinated with the shells. He picked lots of them up; when he could

carry no more he would throw them away and start his collection afresh.

Without warning, a black-headed gull swooped down at them. All four fell flat

upon the sand. Log-a-Log lashed out with his staff, catching it on the beak,

and as it soared away, Martin hit it hard on the wing with a sling stone.

The gull wheeled, screaming angrily, then more seagulls flew in to

investigate. Soon the four friends were hard-pressed defending themselves

against aerial invaders.

Waving his staff at an oystercatcher, Martin called to Log-a-Log, "I thought

you said they'd go away if we showed 'em we weren't afraid of seabirds?"

Log-a-Log thwacked a common gull across its webbed claws.

"You can never tell with these birds. Quick, let's make a run for it. There's

some rocks over yonder!"

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Waving their staves furiously, they dashed along the beach to where a rocky

outcrop thrust up from the sand. Finding a fissure between the rocks, they

huddled in together.

The gulls wheeled and circled awhile, screeching threateningly, diving toward

the rocks, but sheering off at the last moment. Finally they gave up and flew

off in search of other, easier prey.

Martin poked his head out into the open. "All clear, they've gone now," he

reported.

Log-a-Log climbed swiftly to the top of the rocks. "Look, mates—a rock pool.

Get the fishing tackle out,"

Locked tightly in by the rocks there was a beautiful miniature lake of deep

seawater, crystal clear. They sat on the edge, gazing into the colorful

depths.

"Look, there's shrimp, just like Skipper and the crew get from the River

Moss," Gonff exclaimed. "What's that, Log-a-Log?"

"Where? Oh, that. I think it's called a starfish. Not very good to eat,

though. See here, attached to the rock? These are limpets. They're a bit chewy

to eat, but they'll keep us going."

Dinny shook his head. "Nay, Gloglog, them's shells loik *ee picken up out of

sarnd."

The mole was surprised when Log-a-Log managed to prise one lose with his

knife. He scooped the flesh out and cut it up, giving them each a portion.

*"Chew on this," he invited them. "Go on, it's not poison."

Gonff pulled a face at the unappetizing limpet flesh, but bravely he popped it

into his mouth and began chewing.

"Tastes very salty," he commented. "I bet you could chew this until next

harvest came around and it'd still be bouncing off your teeth. Best swallow it

in one gulp."

Martin found some seaweed that tasted quite mild.

"Hey, try some of this! It's like Goody's cabbage with a bit too much salt on.

Not bad though."

Between them, they explored the different tastes of rock pool vegetation. The

shrimp were proving too difficult to catch, though Gonff sat determinedly, his

line hanging in the water, baited with a piece of limpet. Gradually it was

taken by something which pulled it beneath an underwater ledge.

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"Haha, mateys, I've got a bite," he shouted excitedly. "Look out, here comes

supper!"

Assisted by Martin, he pulled and tugged at the line. Finally they hauled up a

small spidery object with a soft shell and two tiny claws.

"Throw it back. It's a crab!" Log-a-Log called urgently to them.

Martin shook hold of the small crab as Gonff tried to unlatch its claws from