Quest for the Faradawn

CHAPTER III

When Brock went through the doorway and saw the baby curled up in a cradle formed by Tara’s two front legs, the gravity of WarrigaPs words seemed far away and the sense of impending adventure which the owl had conveyed to him remote indeed. Tara was fast asleep, lying with her back resting against the smooth dark brown earth of the far wall, and the sight of her sleeping so peacefully made Brock realize how tired he was. He decided to have a rest before breaking the news to the other members of the family who lived in the sett. Then there would be the daunting task of facing the Council, although he was pleased, and relieved, that Warrigal had so readily taken it upon himself to help with this tricky business and he had a rather comforting feeling that his friend would do all the talking. However, at the same time he did not really want the owl to steal any glory that might be going and he felt a little uneasy about the possibility that Warrigal might ‘take over’.

But his deep and refreshing sleep was all too quickly shattered by a violent shaking and the sound of lots of little frantic yelps. He opened his eyes blearily to see Old Bruin standing over him and the two cubs Zinddy and Sinkka, who were now almost three seasons old, jumping around Tara and trying to get her to explain what this strange new animal was doing in the sett and what type of creature it was. So, there was no need to break the news to the other inhabitants, the news had broken by itself. Brock spoke as sternly as he could to the cubs. ‘Come on, you two; settle down and come over here to me and Bruin and I’ll explain everything to you as best I can. ’ They stopped for a second and then began wrestling with each other, rolling over and over on the floor with their bodies locked together in a fighting embrace.

‘Here!’ said Brock sharply and they quickly disengaged themselves and scampered over to where he and Bruin stood. The baby had of course been awoken by all the noise and had begun to cry, but Tara began to nurse him and he soon settled down with his eyes closed and a look of intense concentration on his face.

Bruin stood gravely at Brock’s side as the badger began to tell the three of them about the events that had led up to their finding a baby human curled in Tara’s arms as they were quietly making their way through the front chamber out to the winter evening.

Bruin was Brock’s grandfather and his only living relative; his father, mother and sister had all been killed by the gas one bright autumn evening when Brock, six seasons old and alone, had been out foraging.

He had come back to see a whole group of Urkku gathered around the entrance to the sett, talking and laughing loudly in that strange guttural manner of theirs as if they wanted the whole wood to hear what they were saying. He had seen them put a large snake-like thing down the hole and then after a short time Bruin had come charging out, coughing and choking horribly and with his eyes streaming with tears. He had watched from behind the shelter of the nearby hedge as Bruin had savagely attacked the man nearest the sett, tearing his legs with his teeth until the man fell; the old badger had then jumped, snarling, at the face of another Urkku and knocked him down before running off towards the hedge where Brock was standing. Brock had joined him and they had both scampered round the side of the wood and made their way down to the big stream, where they stayed in hiding, fearful and terrified, for the rest of the night. The next day, when they made their cautious way back to the sett, they found that the air inside still burned their eyes and lungs so they had waited a number of nights before being able to go down. They had found all the other badgers of the sett dead; their eyes bulged horribly and their blackened tongues stuck out from twisted lips and mouths, so that the memory of their faces had never ceased to haunt Brock and for many seasons afterwards he had woken in the middle of the night yelping in terror.

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.