Cat Weatherill

Snowbone

Leaving Butterbur's house, the tiddlins travelled south. By day, they marched relentlessly, beetling down the high-hedged lanes. At night, they slept - in barns, in sheds, in snow-canopied woodland - anywhere they could find a dry floor. The tiddlins didn't feel the cold, but they did suffer from the constant damp. The snow penetrated their clothing and sank into their wooden limbs. After hours of tramping, their legs would feel heavy and tight round the joints. Without those few, precious hours under cover every night, they wouldn't have been able to go on, no matter how high their spirits.
  They travelled on. To the west they saw the huge bulk of Ashenpeake Mountain, brooding on the horizon like a sulky giant, snow-capped, immovable, timeless. To the east, endless forests. Broad-leaves and pines, evergreens and ashen trees, cold and close in troubled times, snow falling from their heavy boughs in a symphony of sighs.
  And then, one day, the tiddlins caught a familiar scent on the wind. Salt. Soon there were gulls screaming overhead. A fresh breeze was singing in from the south. And when they climbed a slippery ridge, they found the sea.
  Snowbone closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The air was cold, charged, tingling with the energy of the ocean. And with that single, pure breath, all the grime of the journey was washed away. She sighed happily.
  'There's a path,' said Blackeye.
  Snowbone opened her eyes.                                                                                                
  He was pointing along the cliff. 'See? Leading down to the beach.'
  'So what are we waiting for?' said Snowbone. 'RUN!'
  And off she went, haring along the cliff top, with the others scrabbling and screaming behind her. But suddenly - whoosh! - Manu overtook her so fast, he was nothing but a blur. Snowbone stopped running. She wanted to watch. Manu was running at an incredible speed, with apparently no effort. He was down the path faster than a greyhound, running towards the sea while the tiddlins were still on the cliff. And when he reached the waves, he somersaulted, turned a cartwheel, kicked off his shoes and started paddling.
  'That boy can run!' said Figgis.
  Snowbone simply nodded. She was too stunned to speak.
  The tiddlins made camp on the beach, and that night, as they gathered round a fire to talk, it almost felt like home.
  Figgis had drawn a map of Ashenpeake Island on the sand. 'I reckon we're about here,' he said, marking a spot on the coast. 'The southern peninsula is here and Spittel Point is right down here, at the tip. So if we follow the coast all the way, we can't miss it. Two or three days and we should be there.'
  'What will we do when we get there?' said Two Teeth.
  'Start looking for the slavers,' said Snowbone.
  'Where?' said Fudge.
  'In the taverns,' said Figgis. 'That's where they meet. I imagine there'll be a bit of a harbour, with taverns all along the seafront. You won't be able to come with me - it's no place for tiddlins. And before you tear my tongue out, Snowbone, that's not me talking! It's the landlords. They won't let you in, believe me. And anyway, we don't want to draw attention to ourselves.'
  'Won't they recognize you?' said Manu.
  'I doubt it,' said Figgis. 'Why would a tinker from the north be drinking in Spittel Point? Besides, they left me for dead.'
  'But won't it look strange - your being in a bar when you're not a trader?' said Mouse.
  'No,' said Figgis. 'I'm sure strangers turn up all the time. Sailors looking for work, people like that. And besides, it's a regular port. They're not all rogues. Some of them are dealing in honest cargo. But it's out of the way and the slavers like that. If they used Kessel, on the west coast, everyone would see their business.'
  'What will we do if we find the slavers?' said Tigermane.
  'There's no if about it,' said Snowbone. 'We'll stay there until we do.'
  'And what then?' said Mouse.
  Snowbone said nothing. But a smile passed over her lips, cold as the waves beyond.

Snowbone © Cat Weatherill, 2006. Published by Puffin Books.