Quest for the Faradawn - страница 8

After this episode, which had also been seen by Warrigal and Stemdale the Fierce, King of the Pheasants, Bruin had been christened The Brave’ in honour of his valiant attack on the Urkku and his amazing escape from them. His hatred of the Great Enemy was immense and his head was full of legends and stories, particularly those in which man was vanquished or made to look stupid, which he loved to relate. When Brock had finished telling his strange tale, the old badger simply grunted and shuffled over to where the baby was lying on the other side of the chamber. He put his head, on which the two bold black stripes had begun to turn grey with age, very close to the face of the baby and began to rub his wet nose under his chin. The baby, which had been asleep, awoke and began to giggle, putting his tiny hands up to try and grab Bruin’s ears and moving his whole body from side to side in a gesture of pure merriment. Bruin continued playing with him like that for a short time while the others watched, amazed and entranced at this exhibition of affection between the old badger and the baby Urkku. After a while he came away and, with a curious expression of both sadness and contentment on his face, turned to them all and said slowly, in his deep gravelly voice, ‘Look after him, youngsters; look after him,’ before ambling out through the door and up the passage into the cold winter night.

The two cubs stood in silent wonder for a second and then ran after him chattering and fighting as they went. They always went foraging with Bruin now for he had more time and patience than their father to teach them the ways of the wood, what was good to eat and what was poisonous and where to find the berries and juicy roots that they so enjoyed. There was also the chance, when they got back to the sett, of a story about the time Before-Man when the land was one vast forest and the earth was full of strange creatures with magical powers; creatures which flew as high as the sun and which ran so fast that the eye could not see them. He might also tell them again, for they never tired of hearing them, stories about the time the Great Enemy first arrived in the world.

Now that the sett was quiet again Brock had time to think about how Bruin had seemed to accept the baby Urkku so easily. He was relieved but also puzzled: his grandfather liked all young creatures and they in turn loved him, but his acceptance of this baby was more than that; he had almost seemed to have been expecting it. Warrigal had said that Bruin might know the legend of the Urkku Saviour, and the old badger’s strange request to them to ‘look after him’ could only mean that he, as well as Warrigal, believed that this little thing was he. He wondered how much Bruin knew of the rest of the legend. Brock went over to Tara and the baby; he was asleep again after his last feed and lay, looking blissful and secure, snuggled deep into Tara’s soft hair. She was awake. ‘It’s all too much for me,’ she said. ‘Why was grandfather so strange and nice to him; I thought he’d go into a towering rage.’ Brock told her of his conversation with Warrigal and at the mention of the Elflord she shook her head in disbelief. When he had finished she looked at him affectionately, as she always did when he related his grandiose schemes to her, and said sweetly, ‘Well, you see to all that side of it and I’ll feed him and wash him and keep him warm and teach him when it’s safe to go outside and. ’

‘You can scoff,’ interrupted Brock, ‘but we’ll see who is right when the time comes. This time I’ve got a feeling, and I’m not the only one, that something really important is in the wind and I’m hot going to ignore it simply because you’re too hardheaded to see it. ’ He began to move towards the passage. ‘You’ve no imagination,’ he added caustically. ‘I’m off to the Council.’

When he’d gone Tara looked down at the little pink creature lying against her black fur. ‘Well,’ she said to him softly, ‘whether you’re what they say you are or not, one thing is certain, you’re no different from any other cub; all that bothers you is eating, sleeping and playing.’ But though she said it, she couldn’t help feeling that perhaps, this time, Brock was right and that something legendary was happening to them all.