Brambleheart #2

  CONTENTS

  1. The Captive

  2. Rose Hips and River Water

  3. Hot Air

  4. Just Hang On!

  5. Sand Dunes

  6. Lily and the Lasso

  7. Strange Berries and Bugs

  8. Surprise at the Campsite

  9. Toot Sweet!

  10. Show-offs

  11. An Unexpected Visitor

  12. Trapped

  13. A Giant Shadow

  14. Guitar to the Rescue

  15. Home at Last

  16. Good-bye, but Not Farewell

  Back Ad

  About the Author

  Books by Henry Cole

  Credits

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  chapter 1

  The Captive

  Twig’s furry paws were sore. Gripping the spokes of the Captive’s wheel for three days had turned his pads from pink and tender to tough and calloused.

  His body was sore, too. The Captive had sailed through a maze of floating debris and an endless series of rapids, with Twig guiding her every mile. His arms twitched from exhaustion.

  His legs were tired from balancing. Tiny scratches marked where his toes had gripped the wooden planks of the deck.

  But Twig’s confidence had grown, as well as his muscles.

  He gazed ahead, alert, looking for floating hazards and telltale signs of ripples and rapids. Things that had seemed so foreign just a few days ago were now a part of him: the patterns of water currents, the shadows of the clouds, even the smell of the river was like a friend.

  A shout came from the crow’s nest above him. “Looks like a log up ahead, on the right!” Basil was at his usual perch.

  “Yep, I see it!” Twig shouted back. “Thanks, Basil!” “When do we get to wherever we’re going?” the weasel called down. “Can’t we pull ashore somewhere?”

  Lily stepped beside Twig, grinning. “How about it, Twig?” she said. “Want me to relieve you at the wheel? Then you can take the crow’s nest and Basil can rest. He’s still looking a little woozy.”

  Twig and Lily were quite adept at life on the water, but Basil had had a tougher time finding his sea legs. The swaying of the mast as the wind rippled the sails didn’t help.

  Lily glanced toward the rear of the ship. “And Char could use some attention,” she added.

  Char lay draped and drooping across the deck of the ship, eyes half-lidded, and his scaly skin grayish and dull.

  Twig looked at the dragon. “I thought the fresh air was doing him good, but now I’m not so sure. He looked better three days ago.”

  “I know,” Lily replied. “I keep hoping we’ll see some signs that we’re close . . . close to finding Char’s home.”

  Twig nodded, then shouted up to the crow’s nest. “Come on down, Basil. We’re switching off!”

  Basil made his shaky way down the rope ladder from the crow’s nest. He looked green.

  “Can’t you make the Captive stand still?” he moaned. “I feel like I’ve been swinging on a vine for three days.”

  Lily handed Basil a rose hip. “Here. Chew on this. It may help settle your stomach.”

  Basil, looking queasy, munched halfheartedly on the rose hip, and Twig sat beside Char. He stroked the dragon’s smooth scales and scratched under his chin. Char seemed to barely notice. “Lily, he’s not doing so great. I hope we’re going in the right direction . . . for Char’s sake!”

  Lily nodded solemnly. “Let’s get him home.” She took her position at the ship’s wheel.

  Twig thought, for the hundredth time, of home. He missed the delicious meals prepared by his mother, Olive, and the cozy comfort of his cottony bed.

  He missed his conversations with Beau and wondered what Beau would think of him now. Would he approve of sailing off to an unknown destination, just to deliver a baby dragon to his home? “Beau would be proud of me . . . I know he would,” Twig said to himself.

  Even though their days had been busy, Twig knew that in between learning to sail and exploring the river, Lily was missing home, too. A pang of guilt passed through his thoughts. If it weren’t for him, and his discovery of Char, they’d both be safe at home, not on the Captive, in the middle of the river.

  He scampered up to the crow’s nest and tipped his nose into the breeze. The scent of the river made his spine tingle with pleasure. Water gushing over stones and swirling between rocks was like music to him. Dozens of bright-blue damselflies came to rest on the railing of the Captive, and jittery water striders skittered out of the way as the ship plowed past.

  The view from atop the mast was exhilarating. The river had widened, opening up their view. He’d never seen such an expanse of sky before, with only a few distant trees obstructing the panorama. The evening before they had sat on the deck of the ship and watched, enraptured: the setting sun turned a scattering of clouds into a gold-and-orange necklace above the dark-purple horizon.

  And the vegetation was different than it had been upriver. The tangle of vines along the cliffs and banks had given way to prickly shrubs and tall, rippling grasses.

  Twig scanned the horizon ahead. “Keep her steady!” he shouted to Lily below.

  “You got it!” Lily called back. “Twig, am I imagining things, or does the current seem slower? We seem to be slowing down!”

  Twig watched the bow of the ship as it sliced through the water. A breeze was pushing at the sails, but the water was like glass. “You’re right, Lily. There is definitely less current.”

  Far off in the distance he saw a hazy line stretching across the river. As the wind nudged them closer and closer, he began to make out the jagged shapes of sticks and branches jutting out of the water.

  “Something . . . straight ahead!” he squeaked. “Not sure what it is, but”—he glanced left and right—“I don’t see a way around it. It’s like a wall!”

  Basil seemed to stir from his woozy lethargy. He scampered to the bow. “A wall? Are we going to crash?”

  “At the rate we’re going, we will,” Twig shouted back. “Sails down! We have to slow down! Everybody, grab a rope quickly!”

  In a rush the three friends pulled at the series of ropes, working together and rolling the sails up to the masts, then lashing them down. As they worked, the Captive slowed some, but still drifted toward the dangerous line of branches.

  “Oh my gosh!” Lily squeaked. Her ears cocked forward in alarm. “We’re heading right into it!”

  “Keep working at the sails, Lily. We’re slowing down. . . . I think we may stop in time!”

  Little by little, the ship slowed, and the last sail was tied to its mast. Finally the Captive sat still in the water.

  The evening breeze had died. Twig raced to the bow of the ship, gripping the railing. “It’s a wall!” he murmured as Lily and Basil joined him. They stared at the massive tangle of limbs. “A wall of trees!”

  chapter 2

  Rose Hips and River Water

  The sun was just dipping below the horizon; darkness would soon be upon them. There was no reason to try to explore the wall or find any way around it. Basil set the anchor for the night.

  Nervous about the barricade looming over them, and chilled by the nighttime air, they tossed uneasily on the deck of the ship, sleeping fitfully when they could. It was still dark when they heard the first distant morning birdsong. They stretched, shivering and stiff.

  Lily sent a bucket over the railing and hauled some water up, as Twig examined their cache of food. “Looks like the last of it,” he said. “We’re going to have to find some more food soon. We have a few rose hips left, and some acorns. Not much.”

  “Rose hips and river water, rose hips and river water,” Lily said. “Wouldn’t a nice, ste
aming cup of sassafras tea be good right about now?” She smiled wistfully. “And a walnut muffin?”

  Basil frowned at her. Being seasick had made him thin, and grouchy. “Please. Don’t mention food.”

  From the deck, Twig and Lily nibbled acorns and examined the giant wall. In the dim morning light they could see that the wall stretched from one side of the river to the other, an enormous distance. It was constructed of thousands of branches and limbs and sticks. Mud was chinked in between, and in many places grasses and weeds and small trees had taken root in the mud. The massive structure towered above them.

  Just then the morning sun poured onto the river, illuminating the landscape. “It’s a beaver dam!” Lily exclaimed. “Just like Professor Fern told us about. I’ve never seen one, but that’s got to be what it is!”

  Twig grinned. “Of course!”

  “Well, what good does that do us, knowing that it’s a beaver dam?” Basil said. “We’re still blocked. We can’t go forward and we can’t back up. We’re stuck.”

  Twig looked thoughtfully at the dam. “Maybe if we get on top of it, we can see if there’s a way around it.”

  “How are you going to do that, Twig?” Lily asked.

  “I’m going to jump. From the crow’s nest I can make it to that overhanging branch. See?” He pointed to a sturdy-looking limb that jutted out closest to the Captive.

  With that, Twig scurried up the rope ladder to the crow’s nest. The jutting branch was tantalizingly close, but dangerously distant.

  “Are you sure you can do this?” Basil called up.

  “We’ll find out!” Twig called back.

  “Gruk!” croaked Char with concern.

  Just as Twig was crouched and ready to leap, another voice called out.

  “Hello!”

  They looked up to see the cheerful face of a beaver beaming at them from the top of the dam. “Hello there!” it said again.

  “Hello!” shouted Lily. “Good morning!”

  The beaver was dark and slick as it moved agilely over the mountain of branches and made its way to the edge of the river. “Good morning to you!” The beaver stared at the Captive. “My, you’ve found an interesting way of travel! I’ve never seen such a thing!”

  “We’re trying to get downriver,” Twig explained. “But your dam has blocked our way. Can you help us?”

  The beaver looked at the ship. “Hmm. Yep. Think so.” With that, it scrambled across the dam, and then returned shortly with a length of grapevine.

  “Here! Tie this somewhere, and I’ll pull you to a good spot. You’ll see!”

  Lily lashed the vine to the railing on the bow. “Ready!”

  With the other end of the vine in its mouth, the beaver began to tug. Slowly the boat began to move through the water. The beaver ducked under and climbed over and around the myriad of limbs, pulling the Captive along the edge of the dam.

  Soon they heard the gushing sound of rushing water. “A break in the dam!” the beaver called out. “Lucky for you, but on our checklist to repair it today.”

  “Huh?” Twig shouted.

  “Don’t worry! You’ll make it!”

  The current began to carry them through the opening in the dam.

  “But careful of the waterfall!” the beaver warned. “The current may be a little strong!”

  “Now he tells us!” Basil moaned, grabbing onto the railing.

  A torrent of water poured through the break in the beaver dam, and the Captive wobbled and swayed.

  “Hold on!” Twig yelled.

  Lily gave a yelp. “Whoa!”

  The ship pitched and dipped as it was carried through the dam, down, down, down a series of waterfalls and rapids. Several times it nearly capsized, careening side to side.

  One sail was snagged on a sharp branch, turning the boat around and causing it to spin in circles.

  “Make it stop!” Basil squeaked. “Please make it stop!”

  Suddenly, with a splash, the ship plunged through the dam and into the calm water on the other side, the current pushing them along into open water again.

  “G’bye! Safe journey!” They turned to see the beaver calling to them from on top of the dam.

  “Thank you!” Lily answered back.

  The morning sun warmed their backs as they hoisted sails and caught a stiff breeze from the south. Twig’s whiskers twitched in the wind. He stood at the wheel and pointed the Captive downriver. It felt good to be moving again.

  Lily sat with Char and held his head. The dragon blinked and looked out across the water. He seemed to sense something. “Char knows we’re trying to help him,” she said.

  Twig nodded. “I hope we’re on the right track.”

  Basil was at the railing, looking miserable. “What’s that?” He pointed to some floating vegetation. “It looks funny.”

  They were sailing through small patches of green aquatic plants that swirled and danced as the ship passed.

  “They may be edible,” Lily remarked. With that, she darted down to the ship’s hold and rummaged through their collection of vines and ropes, then carried them up onto the deck. It wasn’t long before she had fashioned a small net and was dragging it through the water.

  “Here! Let’s see what we’ve got,” she said, hauling the net up with its tangle of green weeds. She munched on a leaf. “Not bad!”

  Twig took a nibble. “Agreed! It’s pretty good!”

  Basil looked gray. “No thanks. I can’t handle green and squishy.”

  But Char looked up from his spot on the deck and sniffed.

  “Here, buddy,” Twig said, offering the dragon some of the slick, wet sea grass. “Hey! He likes it!” Char gobbled up the offering, then sniffed for more. “This is great! We found something Char likes!”

  Basil looked even worse as he watched Char munching the greens. “I can’t take it!” And he raced to the back of the boat.

  The crew was exhausted, after a sleepless night before and the strenuous day. With the warm sun on their tired bodies, they collapsed on the deck and slept.

  Twig woke up to the sound of a rasping snore and looked over to find Char snuggled up beside him, sound asleep.

  Night had fallen. He looked up to see a half-moon, and millions of stars, brilliant and sharp, like silent frozen sparks. He quietly wiggled away from Char and stood at the railing on the bow.

  They had slept, and sailed, through the afternoon and halfway through the night. A breeze swept over the Captive, salty and fresh. The water was choppy, with swells that gently caressed the boat.

  Twig looked across the water. He could not see any trees or shrubs or grasses in the moonlight; the horizon was a straight line.

  They had reached the ocean!

  chapter 3

  Hot Air

  The night turned to day, then to night again, then another day. At first, the reality of water stretching from horizon to horizon was a little unnerving. The only sounds were the wind in the sails and the splash of the waves against the bow. But Twig saw how Char would lift his snout into the air and breathe deeply; the dragon seemed to be blissfully enjoying the new smells.

  The excitement of finding themselves in the vast ocean didn’t last. It wasn’t long before they wished they could see even a glimpse of a bush or a tree, and the unending ocean was monotonous . . . and a little scary. And their food supplies were running out.

  After a week on the open water they awoke to an eerie stillness. The breeze that usually picked up as the sun rose never came. The sails on the ship hung limp.

  “What do we do now?” asked Basil. “We’re just sitting here.” Although he was relieved not to have the usual stomach-churning lurch of the water, it was a little disconcerting to be motionless in the middle of the sea.

  “Your guess is as good as mine, Basil,” Twig answered. He looked at the sky. “Clear. No clouds. At least no storms are coming, but the air is so still.”

  Char snorted and pointed his snout to the air. He was looking a bit bett
er. The seaweed diet seemed to help.

  Lily giggled. “We should get Char to flap around. His little wings could stir up a breeze.”

  “Hey!” Basil said. “Why not use Char?”

  “Seriously, Basil?” Twig replied. “Those little wings couldn’t stir up enough breeze to sail a ship!”

  “You’re not thinking. What if Char made a little breeze using something else? Maybe some hot air? He could blow us around.”

  “You may have something there, Basil,” Lily said. “He could snort at the sails and conjure up enough wind to take us somewhere.”

  Twig pulled at his whiskers and then shrugged. “Why not? Let’s give it a try. Char? You feel up to an experiment?”

  Char gave Twig a puzzled look and then followed him toward the stern. “Okay, buddy,” Twig said encouragingly. “Give it what you’ve got.” He pointed Char’s head in the direction of the sails and stroked the dragon’s chin gently. Char gave a snort, then a sort of burp, and he jerked his neck back. A moment later a puff of smoke, and then a blast of fire, shot from Char’s nostrils.

  The accompanying hot air pushed at the lower sail. The canvas flapped gently. The Captive moved forward a bit.

  “Attaboy, Char!” Basil shouted. “See? I knew it would work. Try it again, Twig!”

  “Well, it’s working,” Lily commented. “But I can tell it took a lot out of Char.”

  Char’s velvety wings drooped, and smoke curled from his nostrils. He looked a bit exhausted.

  “He’s just getting started. Let’s do that again, Char,” Basil insisted. “Twig, stroke his neck again and let him give the sails another blast.”

  Again Twig gave Char a series of caresses, and again Char’s forceful blasts pushed at the sails. Over and over they cajoled Char into blowing the sails, and the ship moved in spurts across the water.

  But the effect was not worth the effort: Char was soon weakened and drained. The Captive had gone only a short distance. The crew abandoned the idea.