Panda Panic (10 page)

CHAPTER NINE

C
lothes fluttering and arms waving, Ping and Little Bear burst out through the back door and rushed into the backyard like a couple of ghosts. They stumbled on the uneven ground as they glanced over their shoulders to see if they were being followed. Not yet. But from inside the house they could hear the men shouting, “Take your boots out of my ear and go after them!”

“This is such fun!” squealed Little Bear, jumping up and down.

“It won't be if they catch us,” said Ping. “That way!”

They set off back toward the forest, scampering as fast as they could go on all fours. Ping's heart was thumping. Little Bear was too young to know what damage a bandit could do, but Ping had been told time and time again that if ever he saw one he should not stop to think, he should just run.

By the time the bandits had untangled their arms and legs and left the house through the back door, Ping and Little Bear were safely out of sight. They were hiding in the forest trying to catch their breath. Little Bear was still overexcited and giggling at the thrill of it all.

“If you hadn't been there, Ping,” he gushed, “I would never have been so brave.”

But Ping was not laughing. When he'd left home looking for adventure this was not what he'd had in mind. He'd promised his mother that he wouldn't do anything dangerous and he'd meant it. Now his recklessness had nearly got both of them captured, and Ping could not see what was funny about that.

“I may have been there,” he said, “but I wasn't much use.”

“You're my hero,” cooed Little Bear. “You gave me courage.”

“I gave you nothing,” said Ping glumly, “except a lot of hot air!” The fun had been knocked out of him and Little Bear did not understand why.

They took off their borrowed clothes and for the next few minutes sat in awkward silence. As the sun dipped lower in the sky, Little Bear wondered what he'd done to offend Ping, and Ping wondered how he was ever going to let Little Bear down by telling him the truth. Eventually Ping said, “I'm hungry,” and stood up.

Desperate to please Ping, Little Bear scuttled over to a large bolt hole that had been dug out of the soil by a badger, and stuck his paw inside.

“There are some delicious grubs in here,” he said, digging at the mouth of the hole, trying to widen it.

“I'll never fit in there,” said Ping. “And anyway, I've already told you I hate bugs. I only like eating bamboo. Back at home, that's all I do, apart from sleeping and taking a poo forty-seven times a day.”

“All you do?!” said Little Bear. “What about being the Emperor's bodyguard?”

Ping couldn't be sure, but it sounded as if Little Bear was starting to question his story.

“There's that too,” he said quietly. “I'm just going to grab myself something to eat. I'll be back in a minute. Are you OK?”

“Don't worry about me,” said Little Bear. “I'll be fine.”

Ping picked himself a fresh bamboo cane, slumped down against a tree stump, and tore off the leaves with his teeth. He was angry with himself for being so weak. He had told a big lie once before, when he'd informed the international pandas who visited Wolagong that he was a skirt-wearing, plate-spinning, bamboo-cooking, classical bagpipe-playing Winter Olympian, who also happened to be a part-time dragon-fighter. Admitting to this lie had been so embarrassing that he'd sworn never to tell another lie again. And now look what he'd done—he told Little Bear that he was the Emperor's bodyguard, a fearless fighter who wrestled bandits, and single-handedly defeated China's enemies! Only bad things could come of Ping's stupidity. When Little Bear found out the truth, he'd think that Ping was ordinary and boring, and wouldn't want anything more to do with him. It was time for Ping to face up to a few hard facts—he could no more be a hero than he could fly.

Suddenly he heard a cry from the spot where he'd left Little Bear.

“PING!!!! HELP!!!!”

There was a terror in the voice that tore at Ping's heart. He sprang up onto all fours as if struck by a bolt of lightning and, dropping his stick of bamboo, sprinted to Little Bear's rescue. But as he brushed aside the branches and crept into the clearing, he saw a sight that made his blood run cold. Digging out the entrance to the bolt hole, inside of which Little Bear had taken refuge, was a snow leopard! Not a shadow of a snow leopard. A
real
snow leopard, with
real
claws and teeth. It was knocking out clumps of earth and making the hole bigger with each swipe of its paw. It would not be long before it reached Little Bear, and when it did—Ping could not bear to think of losing his friend. But what could he do? A giant panda's instinct when confronted by a snow leopard is to panic. Ping was no exception.

“Flipping flipflops!” he screamed under his breath. “What's the plan, Ping?” He didn't have an answer. His mind had frozen.

“Piiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing!” came the muffled cry from down in the hole. “Save me!”

Come on, Ping! This isn't a game. Snap out of it!
What would his mother do in these circumstances, he wondered? She'd attack. She'd protect her children. She'd rush in without a thought for her own safety. Ping wanted to do the same, but his head was
full
of thoughts for his own safety—hundreds of them, in fact. And it was these thoughts that were stopping him from jumping in and saving his friend. His heart was telling him to fight, but his head was telling him he couldn't win.

STOP PANICKING, PING!!!!

Ping grabbed hold of his head and held it still. If Little Bear was to stand a chance of being saved, Ping had to take a deep breath, suck the sense back into his head, and think.

He didn't know what made him look down at the ground, but he did. And when he saw the long shadows that were being cast by the trees and recalled his own saying that
a wise bear fights with his brain as well as his body
, it was but a short leap to a brilliant plan. Why he hadn't thought of it before was a mystery to Ping. But he'd thought of it now and that was all that mattered.

Ping gathered up every trace of bravery in his body by pulling in his stomach and puffing out his chest. Then he tiptoed forward with great care and positioned himself between the setting sun and the snow leopard. In the low, slanting sunlight, his shadow stretched and lengthened and fell across the back of the beast's head. The snow leopard stopped digging and pricked up its ears, aware that some huge creature—if the size of its shadow was anything to go by—was standing directly behind it. Ping filled his lungs and roared, as deep a roar as ever was heard in the forest.
“ROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAOOOOOOOORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!”

From the depths of his stomach to the tips of his lips, his body vibrated with the terrifying noise. In its mind's eye, the snow leopard imagined a giant bear behind it and, without looking around, took flight. It rushed away with its tail between its legs and didn't stop running until it was safely hidden in its cave where the giant bear could not reach it.

It had been a bold and brave deception and Ping had triumphed. He rushed to the mouth of the bolt hole and, ignoring the bugs and insects that scuttled across his arms and legs, kicked and scraped a path out of there. Little Bear flew out of the hole and flung his arms around Ping's neck.

“You saved me! You saved me! I knew you would!” he cried. “You scared away the snow leopard and saved my life.” They held paws and danced around in a circle, while words continued to pour out of Little Bear's mouth like a waterfall bursting out of the side of a mountain. “I called your name knowing that you'd come. There was a moment when I thought you might not, but then you
did
. And then you were so brave. You really did it, Ping. No wonder the Emperor chose you to be his bodyguard!”

Ping stopped dancing, but held onto Little Bear's paws.

“I need to talk to you about that…” he said sheepishly, shuffling his feet and sighing the sigh of a panda with the weight of the world on his shoulders. “You might like to sit down.”

“No, thank you,” said Little Bear. “What's wrong?”

“Well… it's… erm… it's…” Ping was having difficulty forming a sentence. “…None of it's true,” he said eventually. “I'm not the Emperor's bodyguard.”

“Oh,” said Little Bear slowly as the bombshell hit home. “Is this a joke?”

“I wish it was,” said Ping.

“But you do
know
the Emperor?”

“Not personally. I know OF him, but we've never actually said hello.” Ping couldn't bring himself to meet Little Bear's eyes. He could hear the disappointment in his friend's voice—he didn't need to see it in his face as well. So it came as something of a surprise when Little Bear began to laugh. A light tinkling laugh that wasn't judgmental at all.

“You really are good at telling stories!” he said. “I mean I was completely taken in. Even when we went to the Emperor's palace I kept expecting the Emperor to walk in.”