Blue Fire and Ice (15 page)

L
ate summer in Muddlemarsh is a wonderful time to be outdoors. The days are pleasantly warm and the sky is its most beautiful blue. The air has a touch of freshness that heralds autumn’s coming. The coffee cherries are at their deepest red and the time approaches for the harvest. The forest is at its most inviting, and on this day Leaf had chosen to accept Nature’s invitation.

Leaf had pitched her tent in the middle of a small grove of sycamore and birch. It sat snugly under the trees with rays of sunlight creating dancing shadows on its sides from the leaves above. Carefully, she moved her paintbrush in a smooth curve. At the top of the curve, she dipped her brush again in the red paint and continued down the inside of the curve and then up again to create a long, looping “y”. Leaf put down the brush and looked at her tent.

It has to be said that the tent did not blend into the forest. In the brightest colours, Leaf had decorated the tent with flowers and pixies; with small birds and furry animals; with stars and a smiling sun. Most of all, across the top and sides, she had blazoned words in fat, colourful letters: ‘Nature Rules’, ‘So Cool’, ‘Leaf Shakes!’, ‘Muddles Mix It Best!’, ‘Fab’, ‘Grunge Rocks!’ and ‘Groovy Chick’.

Smiling happily, she closed her paintbox and cleaned her brushes, careful not to splash paint on her neat and very smart scout uniform. She liked her uniform, though it probably wouldn’t have passed inspection in many troops. The colour, being neither olive green nor brown, was one that Leaf had chosen herself when she became a teenager. Royal blue was the colour she had decided her teenage years would be. A mature colour, she thought, but not dull; bright but not garish; noticeable, but not seeking attention. ‘My coming-of-age colour,’ she had declared to her best friend, Reach. Reach had nodded and looked down at her own pink ballet dress and decided that she must have come of age when she was very young, for she had always worn pink and it had always seemed right.

Of course, the right accessories count for everything and Leaf had chosen hers just as carefully. The scarf knotted around her neck was emerald green, matching the piping around her scout’s tunic and the pocket of her scout’s skirt. The very tip of green socks could be seen just above the very chic blue ankle boots on her feet.

Packing her paints neatly, she went inside the tent and brought out a small table. Back and forth she went, bringing out object after object until she had a table, a small chair, a mirror, a basin, a make-up case, a manicure kit, brushes and combs, lotions, creams and polishes. She surveyed her salon, sat down and looked critically at her right hand.

Each of the nails was painted iridescent blue, with a small silver star in the exact centre of each one. All the nails but one were perfectly curved and rounded. Not too long, for Leaf considered long nails were so not right on a thirteen-year-old girl, and thirteen was precisely her age.

Leaf looked at the nail that was not perfectly round and curved. The nail had snapped just at the tip of the finger, leaving a cracked and jagged edge. She shook her head. “Wherever you ended up last night, someone wasn’t too careful,” she spoke aloud. Muddles never got upset at what happened during a Mix. Leaf remembered how during the last Mix she had spilled a whole tin of red paint on Bright’s pristine white blouse. Bright had not said a word and brushed aside Leaf’s apologies.

‘Don’t fret, Leaf. During a Mix, we are all responsible for each other. It may have been your head that told my hands what to do, but it was my hands holding the tin. So, which of us is responsible? It is better to deal with what happens than to cry over it.’

It was late morning, and the Mix had only just ended. Last night had been Leaf’s second grown-up Mix. Muddle children only mix with other children, until they start becoming young adult Muddles. Leaf was still feeling good about mixing with the grown-ups, though she sensed that something wrong had happened last night. She felt a resonance today of unhappiness, of a disturbance that had caused distress. And besides, she had a bruise on her shoulder and it hurt. Leaf had pushed the feeling aside and got on with things.

Right now, the most pressing of these was to repair her broken nail and then a nice, relaxing facial.

Leaf had almost finished filing the nail into its proper rounded shape when she heard a crashing in the brush behind her. The crashing was accompanied by several loud sniffs and a very loud sneeze.

‘Bless you,’ said Leaf without looking round.

An animal emerged from the brush. Even on all fours, it was as tall as Leaf. The animal stepped into the glade, right next to the tent and stood on its hind legs. Its dark eyes swept the camp site. Spotting Leaf, it dropped to all fours and walked noiselessly until it was right behind the preoccupied young Muddle. It raised one of its massive front paws, its long, sharp claws inches from Leaf’s head. Leaf remained intent on her nail. The paw drew back. The bear opened its huge mouth, showing its fearsome teeth. And sneezed.

‘Bless you again, Miniver,’ said Leaf, still not looking round. ‘You know you shouldn’t be wandering around the woods. It makes your hay fever worse at this time of year.’

Miniver dabbed her nose with her paw. She moved to the side of the chair and sat next to Leaf, watching her intently.

‘Don’t ask me to do your claws. I haven’t got time. I have to take all the nail polish off this nail and then put on some fresh polish. And a new star. Then, I’m going to give myself a facial. There’s no point in camping if you can’t give yourself a proper beauty treatment.’

‘A little more off the left side of the nail, and you really must attend to those cuticles,’ said Miniver, putting her nose right next to Leaf’s hand.

‘Move your nose, please, Miniver, before I paint it blue,’ said Leaf playfully. ‘Your nose isn’t made of glass. I can’t see my nail.’

Miniver moved her nose and sat down next to Leaf. ‘I hope she’s brought a warm jumper in case the night turns chilly,’ she fussed, then sneezed again. Leaf reached into her make-up bag and drew out a tissue and dabbed the bear’s nose. She looked at Miniver’s broad, black nose.

‘You’d look quite funky with a red flower on your nose,’ said Leaf.

Miniver considered the possibility.

‘Are you going to stay here with me tonight? There’s enough room in the tent but try not to sneeze too much. It might be fun. We could do girl stuff.’ Leaf smiled at the bear. ‘Or are you too old for girls’ stuff?’

Miniver considered that possibility, too.

‘Hello, you two!’ Wave’s cheerful greeting interrupted Miniver’s cogitation. She and Leaf turned their heads to see Wave approach on his bicycle. Leaf loved Wave’s bike. It was the hottest bike in Muddlemarsh. She wished she had a bike as cool.

Wave’s surfboard was lashed to a metal stand behind the seat and it brushed the branches of the trees as he rode into the glade. He had ear pads in his ears and one of the new CarryTune boxes attached to his handlebars. He hummed the last couple of bars of the song playing on his CarryTune, then removed the ear pads and left them hanging around his neck.

‘Hi, Wave,’ said Leaf, smiling. ‘Been surfing?’

‘Yup, just got some early-morning curls,’ he replied. Miniver ambled over to Wave and raised her paw.

‘Hello, Wave,’ she said. ‘You’re looking a bit thin. Are you eating properly?’ Miniver was very fond of Wave and worried about him. No matter how healthy he appeared, she always thought he looked a bit thin.

Wave patted the bear and rubbed her flanks. ‘What’s all the growling, eh? Are you telling me off again?’

‘Catch any good waves?’ asked Leaf, applying the last strokes of her nail polish.

‘Some awesome ones out there today! You should have seen me, Leaf! I almost stood up on my board today!’ Wave was obviously very pleased with his efforts. ‘It wasn’t a very big wave – actually, it was a pretty small one – but I nearly stood up!’ Wave noticed Leaf’s handiwork on the tent. ‘Cool tent, Leaf! “Grunge Rocks!” Yeah, he sure does!’ A idea came into his head. ‘Hey, what about “Wave Rolls!”’ He laughed. Miniver rolled her eyes. Leaf smiled. It was easy to smile a lot when Wave was around.

‘Where are you off to now?’ she asked. ‘This isn’t the way back to Home.’

‘Gotta get to the plantation. Harvest starts next week and I just wanted to see how those new trees in the north field were doing. It’ll be the first crop from them.’

‘I like harvest time,’ said Leaf. ‘Before you know it, harvest is over and it’s Roasting Day. The Roasting Day Festival is the best day of the year.’

On Roasting Day, the Muddles chose the very best beans they had extracted from the coffee cherries. Early in the morning, when the dew was still on the ground and the sun was just spreading over the land, all the Muddles gathered to fire the oldest of all the roasting kilns. While they waited for the kiln to heat, they sat together outside and had a breakfast of coffee and muffins. When the kiln was finally hot enough, they roasted their best beans. While the beans roasted, the Muddles played games and music; they danced; they had competitions to see who could run from the kiln to the field with a coffee bean on their nose and not let it fall; the young male Muddles particularly liked the Bean Shoot, in which they competed to see who could shoot a bean furthest by blowing it through a small tube. There was the annual coffee-making competition, which no one had ever won because every Muddle knew how to make perfect coffee.

‘No better reason to be a Muddle,’ agreed Wave. ‘Well, I’d better go. I’ll stop by on my way back.’ He patted Miniver. ‘Don’t worry, Miniver. I’ll eat a big dinner tonight. Next time you see me I’ll be big and round like you.’

‘Nothing wrong with big and round,’ thought Miniver. ‘Some of the best bears I know are big and round.’ She growled a fond goodbye to Wave.

‘Bye, Wave,’ said Leaf. She put the top on her nail polish and looked up. ‘What’s wrong?’

Wave was holding his CarryTune box, pressing the buttons to make it play. He frowned. ‘It doesn’t work. I pressed the button and nothing happened. It won’t play the songs. Maybe it needs new batteries.’ He pushed the button a couple more times, frowning even more.

Leaf stood and blew on her freshly polished nail. She walked over to Wave and, careful not to smudge her nail, picked up his ear pads with the tips of her fingers and placed them in his ears.

Wave’s face lit up. ‘Cool!’ he said, delighted. ‘Thanks, Leaf!’ Wave hummed, waved goodbye to Leaf and Miniver, and started pedalling. He guided the bicycle through the trees out of the glade and began the easy descent to the valley. He could see the vast fields of coffee trees that covered the walls of the valley to the west and to the north, and which spread upward along the gentle hills to the east.

Wave felt a familiar glow of pleasure as the full valley came into view. He never tired of looking upon the beauty of Muddlemarsh and felt the same pleasure each time he did. He stopped his bicycle at the edge of the trees at the top of the slope and looked out over the valley.

Something to the right caught his eye. A shadow among the trees, several hundred metres away, was moving steadily into the valley. ‘An animal?’ Wave wondered. The shadow emerged from a cluster of trees and Wave saw that it was not an animal at all but someone dressed in a long, dark robe. The hood had been thrown back and Wave realised that it was a woman moving into the valley.

At first Wave thought she wore a metal cap, for her head had a glow and the sun reflected from her head. He was taken aback when he realised that the glow was coming from her hair. Wave had never seen hair so red. The stranger wore it short, cut over her ears and cropped just above her shoulders; it almost seemed like a helmet of fire.

The woman moved carefully but swiftly. It occurred to Wave that not only was she in a hurry but that she didn’t want to be seen. She kept to the trees as much as possible but made directly for the north end of the valley.

‘She’s not a Muddle, that’s for sure,’ considered Wave. ‘And she doesn’t look like a Beadle. She must be a Myrmidot. Why doesn’t she want to be seen? And why is she heading north? Myrmidia is to the west.’

Wave kept within the shadows of the trees until she had disappeared down the valley slope. Curious, he decided to follow the woman. The bike would be sure to give him away, so he rested it against a tree and set off on foot. Wave kept as far as possible behind her, just close enough to keep her in sight.

All that day he followed the woman, past the coffee plantations to the wooded hills beyond. Once she had passed the coffee plantations, she became less concerned with remaining hidden, for few Muddles ventured here. She increased her pace without change in direction, Wave trailing her at a distance.

The sun was dropping beneath the horizon to the west and the forest fell into the gloom of twilight. The woman didn’t pause or falter but kept a steady northward course. ‘I’ll know soon where she’s headed,’ he realised. Not far ahead was the Crossroads. There, the road forked. Straight ahead lay the Bourne Bridge and the Salvation River. It was the largest river in the Land. It started deep in the High Mountains to the north-east, far above Beadledom, then swept south-west, cutting across Muddlemarsh before continuing through a deep gorge and into Myrmidia.

‘If she takes the west road, she’ll make her way to Welcome Bridge and into Myrmidia. If she continues north, she’s headed for Bourne Bridge,’ reasoned Wave.

No one knew who had built Bourne Bridge. It had always existed for the people of the Land. Some believed it was the first thing that the people of the Land had built, that it had been designed by the Myrmidots and constructed by the Beadles with help from the Muddles. Others said it has been put there by people who had lived in the place countless years before and who had split into three races: the Myrmidots, the Beadles and the Muddles. And yet others said it had been built by the first settlers more than a thousand years ago, who had ventured from unknown lands beyond the High Mountains. Sensible people scoffed at the last group, for everyone with a gram of sense knew that there was nothing beyond the High Mountains.