Walking all day, Roolo and Bomper noted that the air, which had seemed mild and fresh on the beach, became colder and damper as they ascended higher into the hills. As sunset approached, the sky took on a deep red-orange color as the sun settled behind an increasing veil of clouds. Roolo and Bomper, seabeasts to the heart, knew practically nothing about traveling on land and even less about sustaining themselves without a ship’s cook. Miserably hungry and thirsty, having taken their last food and water aboard Daring Dream, they halted under the protection of a large solitary pine tree. The protection afforded by the tree against hunger and thirst, however, was limited to the numerous nobby pinecones scattered beneath the tree.
The ravenous seabeasts were just beginning to consider pounding the pinecones with rocks to try to soften them up a bit, when the faint, but unmistakable, scent of cooking fish wafted past them. Exchanging glances of astonished happiness, Roolo and Bomper ran off in the direction from which the smell seemed to be coming. Coming around a huge boulder, they found a young Cow crouched before a cookfire. The young beast had made camp in a small pocket of sheltered ground. Protected on one side by the boulder and overhung by a rock ledge, the snug little campsite looked very inviting to the troubled seabeasts. Tired, dirty, and so thirsty they could barely speak, yet somehow this did not dampen their greeting as they approached the Cow rocking on her haunches before the fire.
Almost shouting with joy, Bomper called out a greeting, “Holo! Hey! Look here!”
“Ah, there! So there are beasts in this waste,” the Cow responded, returning the greeting. “Name’s Helga and I’d thought there wasn’t a beast within miles—haven’t seen anyone in two days.” Motioning for her visitors to sit down, she continued, “Sit down. Take a rest. I got some fish I’m happy to share and there’s a spring of fresh water over there.”
“Ancient Ones, be thanked!” Roolo said. “Things are looking better!”
“The water in the spring runs pretty cold,” Helga said. “I’ve got some more fish over there. Go over to the little pool where the spring runs and you’ll see a leather bag held under the water by a rock. The fish are wrapped in corn husks inside—keeps them fresh. Bring them over here and we’ll throw some more fish on the fire. I’ve got plenty.”
It was not far from tears of joy that seemed to cloud the eyes of the seabeasts as they followed Helga’s instructions. Having nearly given themselves up to enduring a long night of hunger and thirst, watching Helga preparing the fish made them doubly thankful for her open-handed generosity. Hanging the fish over a makeshift spit made from tree branches, Helga cooked enough fish to satisfy everyone’s hunger.
“I’m glad I finally found you,” Helga remarked as she handed around the fried fish and dried cherries that made up her simple meal. “I’ve been calling on the Ancient Ones to help me find you.”
“You knew we were coming?” Roolo said with surprise, greedily attacking the fish with his fingers.
“No, I didn’t know you were coming,” Helga laughed, “but I am looking for some seabeasts in trouble—and I seem to have found some!”
Exchanging stories as they chewed and drank their coffee, the three beasts laughed and joked as the night deepened. Finally, the conversation dropped off into broken, fitful comments as the beasts settled into their own tired reflections. All probably would have dropped off to sleep had the wind not begun to pick up. Threatening clouds had been building all evening and now they cut loose with a cold, driving rain. Pushed by the strong wind, even Helga’s protected campsite was not sufficient to provide shelter. Sharp, driving raindrops, nearly cold as ice, pelted the three beasts viciously. Worse, the driving rain soon produced a torrent running down from the rocky hills, flooding the campsite.
“Nothing to do but sleep up on the rocks,” Helga announced, “we won’t stay any drier here than we will out in the rain—might as well try to get out of the flood!”
Taking the lead, Helga climbed up the bare rock like the seasoned mountain dweller she was. Feeling her way along in the dark, she found a fairly broad and flat place to stop safely. Roolo and Bomper followed, scrambling up the rocks. Wishing for a tent, a cave, even a good clump of bushes to break the force of the driving rain, but having nothing by their stout hearts to protect them, they settled down, backs to the rain and heads tucked, to wait for dawn.
Christer’s Plan
Driving rain had pelted the struggling band of travelers since morning. Soaking in through every gap in the heavily-tarred storm-capes they wore, the cold rain added misery to every step Helga and her seabeast companions took. More than a day of tramping had brought the party no closer than halfway to Dismal Pass, despite their urgent need to reach the seabeast’s grounded ship. Soaked and exhausted from the difficult climb up the steep, jagged road to Dismal Pass, the struggling band needed to find shelter soon.
“There, Mr. Tigg, there!” called out Bomper Spits loudly to Roolo Tigg, the Muskrat Mate who served as leader of the group.