“O.K...Well, let’s see...” Helga looked at Burwell in bewilderment. For once, Helga was speechless.
“What about the ‘Mountain That Moves But Stands Still?’” he asked. “Where is it and why does it have such a strange name?”
JanWoo-Corriboo was silent. Thinking that perhaps she had not heard him, Burwell repeated the question. “Where is the ‘Mountain That Moves But Stands Still’?”
“I cannot tell you,” JanWoo-Corriboo said.
“What?” Burwell said. “But you said you know where it is!”
“I do know where it is,” JanWoo-Corriboo replied, “but I can’t tell you where it is—it is the WooSheep law that no one talks about it. All contact with the WooPeace clan is forbidden. They are a dead people to us. And besides, they have Venom Bats guarding the entrance to the ‘Mountain That Moves But Stands Still.’ No one goes there, it is too dangerous.” JanWoo-Corriboo smiled happily, as if she were excited about something.
Burwell, Bwellina, and Helga looked at one another. They knew why she was excited. “And that’s exactly why you’re so happy and excited to take us there!” Burwell sighed, looking at JanWoo-Corriboo. She smiled back, nodding her head happily.
“Ohhh...Woe is us!” Burwell moaned. “No Rattlesnakes, but now we’ve got Venom Bats. What an improvement! Yep! Yep! Yep!”
We’re Getting Out of Here!
“Shoo-moo-loo...Shoo-moo-loo..La-ba-ta-da...La-ba-ba-ta-de...Shoo-moo-loo..La-ba-ta-doh...” The sound of a soft melodious humming caused Breister to nearly bite off the mouthpiece of the pronghorn flute! Jumping up, he and Annie peered through the darkness, looking for any clue to who could be there. The fish-oil candle flickered faintly, casting weird shadows of stalactites, stalagmites and other rocks.
“Shoo-moo-loo...La-ba-ta-da...” A paint-spattered Owl stepped from behind a rubble pile. The Owl, his grizzled feathers salt-n-pepper gray, wore a loose-fitting smock. Long shaggy feathers hung out around the smock in disheveled, wild tangles. He wore a baggy beret that drooped down on the left side of his head, and a large brass ring through his lower beak.
“Shoooo-moooo-loooooo, troots!” The Owl said in a soft, mellow, and barely audible voice. “Ya speckin las Kinshy?”
Breister and Annie just stared stupidly at the Owl, not comprehending a word he had said.
“O.K. then, you airyheads, I’ll try again,” the Owl said, changing voice tone and volume. “What I said was, ‘Welcome, guests! Do you speak Kinshy?’ But you have already answered my question with your silence. Obviously, you don’t know Kinshy. Dadrot! And I was so hoping that I might at last have someone else who speaks Kinshy.”
The Owl looked so sad and dejected that Breister said, “Now, don’t take it hard, friend. We’d be glad to learn some Kinshy if you could help us get out of here.”
Perking up, the Owl said happily, “Loooste meooon minder, dast wiffert!”
Breister, thinking the Owl was giving him something to practice, tried to repeat the same phrase. “Looooostemo nminerd astwiffter!”
The Owl broke into uproarious laughter. “Hooo, Hooo, Hooo, Ha-ha-ha! Do you know what you just said...Hoooo, Hoooo, Hooo, Haa-ha...You said...Hh, Hoooo, Hooo...I can’t stand it...you said, ‘Eat my toenail phlegm balls!’ Hooo, Hooo, Hooo...oh, that’s great! I like you already! Hooo, Hooo, Hoooo!” The Owl fell to the ground and rolled in laughter, kicking his feet high in the air, and flapping his wings in all directions.
Breister and Annie, feeling relieved to have met another apparently harmless creature, and infected by the Owl’s silly laughter, laughed too.
Gradually, the Owl calmed down again. He stood up and adjusted his beret, which had fallen down over his eyes.
“Well, we’ll have to practice that a bit!” he observed, chuckling. “But for now, tell me who you are and what you want.”
Breister responded quickly. “We’re lost and trying to find our way out of the caves. We want to get to the outside world. Do you know the way?”
The Owl pulled an artist’s paintbrush from a pocket of his smock. He swished it through the air in a wild series of lightning fast strokes—almost like a sword fighter. “Did you get that? I just drew you a map to the outside!” The Owl chuckled again. “You see, I do know the way and I just showed it to you!”
“Now you wait just a minute, you wacko bag of feathers!” Annie stormed in fury. “If you know the way out of here, you’ve got to show us. You can’t just stab at the air and expect us to know where to go!”
“Why not?” the Owl asked. “You already know the way out of here, or you wouldn’t be standing here talking to me.”