“Who’s in trouble, Captain?”
“Well, as I’m seein’ it,” Bem replied with a smile, “the mates on this ship are rascals as most beasts see’s ya. So, there’s no goin’ to Port Newolf for a rest. First thing’s we gotta get you far away to new lands that’s not knowin’ ya—then, once we’s away from here, we’ll make some plans. For now, firsts firsts, we spend some time forgettin’ about Sabre Tusk. Set a course that takes us out o’ sight of Port Newolf—then, before dark we’ll cut back in down the coast a piece. I want to check over the ship for a long voyage—then we’ll set off for far horizons.”
“Aye, Capt’n!”
A Memorable Feast
The long column of escapees from Mis’tashe and their liberators marched haphazardly through lengthening shadows cast by the mountains as the sun began its decent. The mountains, however, were not high and forbidding, but more like a staircase descending to some yet invisible landing. No one among the troop of beasts was familiar with the landscape or knew exactly where they were heading. The most seasoned beasts in the group had decided that it was best to simply escape by the most obvious route as rapidly as possible, hoping for the best.
“By the Ancients!” Helga exclaimed as she walked along, “that was a near miss!”
“What’s amiss?” Christer asked.
“Ayeeiii! Christer!” Helga snorted in disgust. “Are you not conscious of how narrowly we’ve escaped? Why, with you and that Darin’ Dream crew makin’ silly and loud as brainless twits, it’s a miracle we’re not already back in chains! Don’t you know you were runnin’ around and hollerin’ at the top of your lungs—and there’s Captain Gumberpott and the rest who had a lick of good sense, tryin’ to make you hear and get us all safely away from Mis’tashe, while you were callin’ attention to us like hammer and gongs! I swear, if the Creation depended on the likes of you for smarts, we’d be about equal to worms guzzlin’ dirt!”
Christer, walking beside Helga, turned his face toward her and, with wide eyes nearly overflowing with fake tears, wailed sorrowfully, “My mouth! My mouth! I’ve sunk into my mouth and can’t get out! Save me! Oh, Miss Scold-Me-Again, please save me! I’m jabberin’ and can’t stop!” Breaking into laughter, Christer gave Helga a playful punch in the arm.
“Will you hush up!” Helga fumed. “Don’t you understand we’re still in danger?”
“Oh, okay,” Christer replied with a smile. “I do understand—it’s just so hard not to want to tease you. You’re so pretty when you’re unpleasant.”
“Was that supposed to be a compliment?” Helga said, looking at Christer with raised eyebrows. “If it was, it’s a bit like being told, ‘I don’t notice your smelly feet because your looks make up for them!’”
Christer, realizing he’s pushed his teasing about as far as was wise, scratched his chin and thought a moment. Then he said, “You’re absolutely right, Helga. I’ll be quiet, just like I was near death and not likely to recover. It’ll not tease, nor tempt you to be unpleasant—for a few minutes or so. How’s that? Better?”
Sighing, Helga looked at her friend and shook her head. “Chister, Christer, Christer, what am I going to do with you? Here we are struggling through the mountains, hoping against hope to stay out of the way of Wrackshees, Rummer Boars, and whatever else Milky Joe will likely be sendin’ after us, and all you can do is tease me?”
“Correction,” Christer replied with a grin, “all I want to do is tease you! I could stop if I wanted.”
“Are you sure about that?” Helga replied. “I think you’re naturally silly.”
“Have a little—” Christer began.
“Patience?” Helga completed the sentence.
“You aren’t ever gonna be patient while your friends are in danger,’’ Christer said with a chuckle. “It’s like you’ve got this urgency to help beasts in trouble that—well, like you just can’t quit on it ’till it’s done—about like when you gotta take a leak and nothing else will do until it’s complete.”
“Christer!” Helga exclaimed. “Do you have no good manners either? And besides, I know you well enough now to think that you’re really about as urgent about getting everyone out of this mess as I am.”
“Yes,” he said. “It’s only walkin’ along mile after mile, and thinkin’ how much fun it is to be with you, that gets me actin’ like such a perfect fool sometimes. What I’d be doin’ if you weren’t here is walk along, thinkin’ and worryin’ about what I can do next when I can’t do nothin’ right now—so that just leads to me walkin’ along, kickin’ rocks, and wearin’ out my boots for no good reason.”