Chapter 5: When Darkness Falls

“Watch out below!” called Martin.  He jumped from the top of the stone and plunged deep into the clear water.  Water sprayed upwards from the impact and showered the surrounding area along with the other Brisby children.

Timothy was now sitting in the sun.  He had gone into the deliciously cool water, but had tired quickly and decided to simply bask in sunlight.  Back at home the other children had been wary of venturing into the water.  The Brisby children could not understand their reticence.

Timothy sat and thought it was just another way that they differed from other mice of the woodland.  Something else, like reading and maths, that they understood and no one else could.  Except for the Rats.  Timothy felt another wave of anticipation as he thought about meeting them for the first time.  He thought of the things he could ask them: about NIMH, about their life, about his father.  He had ideas he wanted to share with them, thoughts he wished to discuss, and many things he wished to learn.  His mother had told himself and the others something of the Rats’ home in the rosebush: about the cavernous halls, about the council, about the library.  He hoped their Thorn Valley settlement would equal the last.  They would be lacking any of the benefits that they received from Mr. Fitzgibbon’s farm, but Timmy knew that this wouldn’t matter.  Their new home would be spectacular; he wished he could stand in the huge underground halls now, and wonder at their magnificence.

“Hey Timmy, heads up!”

Cold water startled Timmy out of his daydream.

“Hey!  I was almost dry.”

Martin pulled a face and dived under the surface.  Teresa was sitting in the water nearer the bank, staring off into the forest. Cynthia, who had been partaking in a furious splashing duel with Martin, started sending water flying at the spot where her brother had just disappeared.  She stopped and tried to peer into the water and see where her opponent had gone.  A moment later he erupted from the depths behind her, drenching his little sister.

“Gotcha!” he said grinning.  Cynthia turned and, placing both hands on Martin’s head, pushed him below the water.  He sank below the surface with a gurgle.  Cynthia laughed and tried to retreat to the bank.

“Come here!” cried Martin as he emerged once more and made after Cynthia.

After a series of further drenchings the duel was declared a draw and, once dry, they all decided to finish off the last of their supplies.

“We’ll find plenty of stuff in the forest,” said Martin, popping some seed into his mouth and chewing.  “And besides we’re nearly at the hill.  We’ll probably arrive in time for supper with the Rats.”

“Yeah!” said Cynthia, eyes sparkling.

“Do you think it will look anything like the rosebush?  Like Mother told us?” said Teresa.

“I think it will be better,” said Timothy.  “This is where the Rats are going to live from now on.  They’ll want to make it bigger and better than the rosebush.”  They all nodded in agreement.

“We’ll get to meet the Rats too.  Properly this time,” continued Martin.  Teresa turned to Martin.

“Do you think they’ll all be like Justin?” she caught the other’s looks and added quickly, “Polite, I mean.  Refined.”

“Well, remember what Mum said about Jenner,” replied Martin.  “I don’t think you would use those words to describe him.”

“You don’t think there’ll be any more rats like Jenner, do you?” cried Cynthia.

“Maybe he had family and friends,” said Timothy.  He looked off into the forest with a blank stare.

“Maybe, but they wouldn’t try anything,” said Martin, dismissing the subject.  “The other rats wouldn’t allow it.  After what Jenner did, they’d have a close eye on anyone who may try to take revenge.”

“Do you think mother will already be there?” asked Teresa.

“Probably.  She had a big head start,” soothed Martin.

“I hope she’s alright,” said Teresa

“If only we could be there now,” said Cynthia.

“If we were, we wouldn’t have found this place,” said Martin, looking again at the little forest haven.

“I wonder why no one else plays here?” said Timothy, still gazing off into the trees.

“What was that?” asked Teresa.

“I wonder why we’re the only ones here.  I just realised.  We haven’t even heard anything else nearby, let alone seen anyone.  I wonder why.  You’d think that it would be full creatures enjoying themselves.”

“It’s a very good point,” said Martin looking around.  Only the birds could be heard.  There was no sign of any other forest wildlife anywhere.

“We should probably get moving soon,” suggested Cynthia looking around slightly furtively.

“Yeah,” said Martin.  “I think that’s a good idea.”

They had only just started to get up when there was a rustle from the bushes nearby.  As one the Brisby children looked around at it.  Something large had moved within.

“I hope that’s Gary again,” said Cynthia.

“It was too big to be Gary,” said Timothy.  Martin stood up.

“Hello?” he called.

There was no reply.  The leaves didn’t move.

“Let’s start getting our things together,” said Teresa and started to move what remained of the food into her knapsack.

“Jeremy?” called Martin hopefully.  Still nothing.  He sniffed the air then turned back to his siblings.  “Quick!  Get packed!”

The words had no sooner been said when a mink crept from the foliage, a sleek black shape weaving its way towards them.

“Go!” cried Martin.  The others dropped anything they were holding and all turned and ran, back amongst the trees.  The mink sprang after them, travelling with its strange gait, weaving in between plants while chasing down its quarry.  The four mice darted this way and that, looking for anything that would help them escape.  A crash from behind them called for a few backward glances.  The mink was close.  Very close.  Martin kept back slightly to make sure the group ran together.

“No, not that way!” he shouted at Cynthia as she veered as if to take a slightly different path.  They ducked and weaved between anything that might be an obstacle to their pursuer but at every turn it was behind them.  Slowly, he was wearing them down.

Without warning, it leapt, almost landing on top of Martin, scattering the mice.  They all leapt aside, in any direction that would take them quickly away from the far-too-near claws and teeth of the mink.  Martin looked around to see Teresa and Cynthia running in the same direction.  Timothy and the mink were gone.

“Wait.  Where’s Timmy?” he called.  They stopped and look back.  They heard a distant squeal and Martin’s stomach lurched.

“Teresa!  Find a hiding place.  Take Cynthia.”

“Where are you going?”

“To get Timothy,” he called and charged off into the undergrowth.  The stink of the animal was strong, and he followed it.  He had not gone far when he heard the cry again.  Bursting through the plants in his way he saw Timothy huddled into a hollow at the base of a tree.  The mink was pawing at the trapped mouse, intermittently scratching at the ground, trying to make the opening larger so it could get its claws to the mouse.

Martin’s eyes blazed and he charged forward straight at the mink.  He leapt and sank his teeth into its hind leg, immediately checking and retreating when it let out a hiss.  He turned at another wail from Timothy.  The mink raked a paw across the ground and Martin was sure its claws had found Timothy.

“No!” he shouted and darted back to the mink.  Again he attacked its leg, biting into it.  Hard.  There was another hiss and a lurch.  Martin bolted, spitting downy fur and blood from his mouth as he ran.  There was a crash behind him as the mink followed.  Time to prove you can do this, he thought.  He darted back and forth, springing from root to stone, a complicated selection of movements.  The mink made a series of lunges, each taking it further in the wrong direction, its prey darting away at the last moment.

 Martin risked a backwards glance.  It was while he did this that he saw something that would be useful.  A fallen tree limb, its interior hollowed out like a tunnel. He made his way to it, still keeping up his erratic movements.  Have to lose it soon, he thought, I won’t be able to do this much longer.  The mink was shadowing him now, being more conservative, hoping Martin would tire and it could pounce.  As Martin disappeared into the log it followed, putting on a burst of speed, hoping to catch the mouse in the confined space.  It lunged forward, into the greenery at the other end of the tunnel.  Martin watched from the top of the log.  The mink shot out of the log, ramming its snout into a rock that was conveniently placed at its exit.  Martin, being smaller had easily manoeuvred around it, actually using it to spring up onto the log, allowing him to watch as the mink pitched forward, tumbling over and over.  When it came to rest it threw its head sideways, then the other way.  Finally it lay still, panting.  It was completely disorientated, the impact leaving it senseless.  Martin grinned and leapt down to the ground and ran straight back the way he had come. It may have been stunned but the mink would recover and may hold a grudge.  He reached the tree where Timmy had been trapped and hurried to the hollow.  Timmy was gone.

Martin’s jaw dropped.

“No,” he said and began to look frantically at the surrounding forest.

“Timothy!”  He almost screamed his brother’s name.  There was a rustle from the plants nearby.  Bounding over Martin found Timothy staggering along, blood was dripping from a cut on his forehead.  He took his little brother by the shoulders, turning him about to face him.  Timothy’s lips moved and quiet words came out,

“Martin.”

“I’m so sorry,” said Martin.

“It’s not bad,” said Timmy touching his wound.  Martin began to guide him forward.

“Come on, we have to move.”  The two mice hurried in the direction that Teresa and Cynthia had gone.  He was feeling tired now and Timothy did not seem to be too keen on running at full pace.  They reached the spot where Martin had last seen his sisters.  He could see clues for the direction they had gone and, pointing them out to Timmy, they set off again.  All the time Martin was listening for sounds of pursuit.  They came to another clearing in the forest, and area that was relatively uncluttered, though it was dominated by and old tree stump.  It seemed as likely a place as any.  He pushed on, pulling Timothy along too, calling:

“Teresa!  Cynthia!”

Relief washed over him as he saw Teresa’s face appear, filling a hole in the old bark.  He put on another surge of energy and headed for it.  Teresa beckoned them forward, frantically waving her hands at them.

Martin stopped beside the old wooden stump and made sure Timothy managed to scamper up the rough surface and enter safely.  Teresa was helping Timothy into the hole when she noticed something that made her tense with fear.

“Martin!  Quickly!” she cried.  The mink leaped from the undergrowth and bore down on him.  Martin managed to leap most of the distance to the opening in the tree stump, scrabbling the last few inches, his tip of his tail disappearing into the hole just as the mink crashed into the side of the old tree.  It clawed and scratched at the tough of bark but to no avail.  It tried to look into the darkness inside, moving its head back and forth, but gave up this futile pursuit and then skulked off slowly, with a few backward glances.

Inside the refuge, the four Brisby children huddled together.

“Is it gone?” asked Cynthia.

“Maybe,” said Martin, moving slightly closer to the entrance, trying to peer out.  “We better wait here for a bit.  Make sure he gives up and goes away.  Are you okay Timmy?”

“I’m fine,” he replied, wiping his hand across the matted fur.  “Wasn’t even the mink that got me.  I did it hurrying into the bushes.”

Teresa suddenly interrupted:

“Did anyone get the packs?”

“Oh no!  The food!” said Martin, looking more intently into the forest outside.

“My medicine!” cried Timothy.

“You did take some this morning didn’t you?” asked Teresa.

“I kinda forgot.  Sorry,” came the quiet reply.  Teresa looked concerned.

“How often do you need to take it?”

“It should be twice a day but I feel fine.  I thought I outgrew that medicine weeks ago.”

“I just hope you’re right,” said Martin turning away from the hole and sitting down. “Everyone rest.  We can’t move for a little while.  We’ll go back and check for the medicine and the food later.”

Martin emerged whiskers first from the hole, sniffing the air.  He turned back to the others, who were still huddled together.  Only Teresa was awake, Cynthia and Timothy lay sleeping, Teresa with an arm around each of them.

“I can still smell it, but it’s long gone.  Obviously got bored waiting for us.  I’ll go back and check.  He might be waiting back there so I’ll go alone.”

Teresa nodded; the movements were small so as not to disturb her siblings.

“Be careful,” she said.  Martin grinned and disappeared.  Teresa leant her head back against the wood’s surface and closed her eyes.  How did she get talked into this?  It had all seemed like a good idea back at the house.  She looked down at Timmy.  The cut on his head was not bad, it had just bled a lot and was hardly noticeable now.  They were lucky not to have had worse.  She shook her head gently.  How had their mother done it?  She faced Dragon, the Tractor, and even the Great Owl to save them.  And now she was terrified of continuing because Timothy had received one small cut.  She hoped dearly that mother was all right.  That she had made it to Thorn Valley safely.  She could just imagine them going into the main hall and seeing mother standing to greet them, along with Justin and all the other rats.

She must have dozed off because the next thing she knew Martin was gently shaking her shoulder.  She tried to blink the sleep from her eyes.

“Martin!  I must have been more tired than I thought.  How did it go?”  She didn’t really need to ask the question.  Martin’s expression said it all.

“There’s nothing there, but weasel scent.  It probably went back after chasing us.”

“What now, then?”

Martin sighed.

“I guess we press on.  The food is not a problem.  We can always find something.  The medicine is trickier.  The only thing I can think of is to get to Thorn Valley and we can ask the Rats to make some more.”

Teresa nodded.

“Let’s wake them up then.”

Cynthia and Timothy yawned and stretched as Martin told them the news.

“Sorry, Timmy,” he finished.

“I wouldn’t worry.  I feel fine.  I won’t need the medicine any more.”  He was smiling and it seemed to make Martin cheer up.

“I hope you’re right,” he said.  “Come on, we’ll need to hurry a bit now.  We’re a little behind schedule.  The sooner we get to Thorn Valley, the better.”

They carried on swiftly at first, in case the mink was still prowling.  Once they were sure they were well away from its hunting ground, they slowed again, though still moving briskly compared to their former pace.  Before long they found themselves at the base of the hill.  Through the trees they could see the thickets of brambles that were the valley’s namesake.  The grass also thinned in places revealing craggy rocks.

“It looks a lot bigger close up,” said Cynthia.

“That’s hardly surprising, is it,” said Timmy smiling.  Cynthia was about to retort when Martin called out.

“Hey! I’ll race ya!”

“Yeah!” yelled Cynthia and they bolted off up the hill, quickly disappearing in amongst the tangles of thorny stalks.  Teresa was about to follow when she noticed Timmy continuing at his own pace.

Timothy noticed her stare.

“You carry on, I don’t feel like running.  I’ll see you at the top.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine; I just don’t fancy the run that’s all.”

“Okay, but I’ll stay with you.”

Teresa and Timothy ambled up the hill.  The slower pace allowed them to look out through small gaps in the trees and see the top of the canopy of the lower forest.  The tickets also stopped the trees growing so thickly here.  The two mice were relatively unhindered by the brambles; being so small they could move beneath them quite easily.  Whenever there was a break in the brambles, usually punctuated with a large outcropping of rock, they would stop and look around though the view was uninteresting, to say the least.  Tree trunks as far as you could see.  Growing vertically out of the slope, the trees helped indicate how steep the hill that they were climbing was.  Teresa found she was grateful when the brambles thinned, leaving a clearing where ground began to level off.  More so when they saw Cynthia ahead, waiting for them.

“Martin’s gone on ahead.  A tree has gone down on the other side of the hill and he thinks we’ll be able to see the whole valley.”

They carried on in the direction that Cynthia had indicated.  Only a short distance further they saw there was indeed a gap in the canopy.  A little further still and they could see the trunk of the tree that had fallen, then Martin’s silhouette was visible atop the trunk.  The three of them ran over and scampered up the tree.  Martin was looking downcast.

“What’s wrong?” asked Teresa, though as she took in the view she saw what was the matter.

They could see Thorn Valley.  Or at least they thought it was Thorn Valley.  Their hearts sank when they saw where they now found themselves.  On the downward slope before them was a new band of bramble thickets that continued almost to the valley floor.  The base of the valley they were looking over now was huge, carrying on into the distance until it merged into the mountains, joining with other valleys that may or may not have been the part of one larger one.  The whole area was filled with a mixture of maple and oak trees that obscured most of the valley floor.  Only occasionally were there gaps, leaving small clearings dotted around the valley.  There were indeed two smaller lakes just visible through the thick canopy of trees, light glinting off the standing water.  There was also the large lake that their mother had told them about, but it stretched almost the entire length of the valley, beginning as a stream somewhere in the distant mountain and turning into a river that flowed out into the forest far off on their right.  The Rats could have set up their home at any point on its bank, but there was no indication that there was any sort of settlement amongst the trees.  They had been expecting something easier, some kind of obvious sign... a definite indication that the Rats lived here.

Teresa shook her head, and clenched her fists in frustration.  Thinking about this now, it was stupid of them to think that.  The Rats came here to be left alone.  They would not put up a sign saying exactly where they were.  There would be no towers or buildings as in the world of man, nor carefully cultivated fields where the crops would grow.  There was no sprawling rat metropolis that covered the whole valley.  Everything would be carefully hidden.  There was just forest and the lakes stretching out towards the distant mountains.  Cynthia stood closer to Teresa.

“I don’t like Martin’s plan anymore.  I want to go back to Jeremy!” she said.  Teresa stroked her sister’s head trying to soothe her.

“We can’t,” said Martin.  His face was set. “We have to carry on.  We’ll find them.  Whether or not they want to be noticed, someone will know something about them.  Come on!”

“Can we rest for a bit?” asked Timothy; he was seated nearby, his head lowered.  Martin looked over.

“We need to keep moving.”

“Wait, Martin.  He doesn’t look well,” said Teresa kneeling to look into her little brother’s face.

“I’ll be okay,” said Timothy.  “I just need to rest for a moment.”  He ran a hand through his hair.  Both Teresa and Martin saw it was shaking.

Martin nodded and then began to move off down the slope, disappearing into the thorny undergrowth.  Teresa went and sat next to Timmy, putting her arm around him.

“I wish I had my medicine,” he said quietly.

“We’ll get more.  We’ll find the Rats.”

“When?” asked Cynthia.

“Soon, I hope,” said Teresa and looked out over the valley.

Martin returned after a short time and they set off down the hill towards the valley.  Timothy did not complain but Teresa kept close and watched him.  Every now and again he would seem to stumble on something, but he would quickly continue on as if nothing had happened.  Cynthia no longer darted around, searching their surroundings.  And to make matters worse, the clouds that had been advancing steadily across the sky finally caught the sun and shrouded it.  With the absence of the sun came a chill, and soon after the chill came the drizzle.

“Martin!  Perhaps we should find somewhere to shelter,” called Teresa

“No,” Martin shouted back over his shoulder.  “We have to carry on.  The Rats have to be here somewhere.  We need to find someone to ask.  He stopped and looked around.  “There!” he said pointing and ran off.  The others hurried to catch up, even Timothy seemed to brighten at the prospect of news.  They quickly saw what Martin had spotted.  He had found a squirrel who was searching for buried nuts.  Martin strode up to the creature.

“Excuse me,” he said.  The squirrel jumped and looked up.

“Hmm?” it said, its tail and its head twitching from side to side.

“Do you know about Thorn Valley?” asked Martin.  The squirrel continued to look around and then snapped its head back onto Martin.

“Hmm?” it said again, eyes wide.

“Do you know where Thorn Valley is?” repeated Martin, a trace of impatience now appearing in his voice.

“Maybe.  Why?”  The squirrel reared up onto it hind legs and gave the mice a suspicious look.  It was much larger than them, though Martin reared to his full height anyway.

“We want to go there,” explained Martin.

“Oh, you want to go there, do you?”  The squirrel still had the same suspicious expression.

“Yes please.  Can you help us?” said Teresa.  She could sense that this wasn’t going to be a terribly helpful endeavour.

“I could.  I could.  You’ll be on the right track if you keep on going up that way.”  It pointed off into the forest in roughly the direction they had been travelling.

“Through there?” asked Martin sounding disappointed.  He had been hoping for something more.

“Yep, that’s right.”  The squirrel nodded, either not picking up in on Martin’s tone or ignoring it.

“Do you know anything about any rats?” asked Teresa.

“Rats?” said the squirrel.  “Yeah, I know about rats!”

“You do?” said Martin.  He smiled for the first time in a long while.  A flicker of hope went through the four mice.

“Yeah,” continued the squirrel, “rats come and steal my nuts.  Can’t find half of them and the other half are taken by damn rats.  Can’t stand them.”  As he said this a bird flew overhead.  At the sound of flapping wings the squirrel’s head snapped upwards.

“Gotta go,” he said without looking at them and bolted for the tree.  It scaled the trunk and disappeared into the leaves.

“Er... thanks!” called Martin.

“Do you think he meant our Rats?” asked Cynthia.

“I don’t think so.  I don’t think they would steal nuts,” said Teresa.  Martin lowered his head from where he had been watching the trees.  There were two magpies sitting on the branch looking down at them.

“Let’s go!  We’ll find the Rats,” said Martin as he turned and set off into the forest again.

The drizzle turned into a shower and turned the forest floor into a quagmire.  The dust that had collected after a dry spell quickly turned into a thick sludge.  Teresa lost track of how many muddy slopes they had to clamber up or slide down, how much wet foliage they had to push aside and struggle through.  All the while, drops of water would fall onto them, drenching their clothes and fur.  Teresa concentrated on helping Cynthia and Timothy along.  Timothy was beginning to tremble and he would trip more often.  Teresa actually had to reach out and stop him falling at one point.  Martin spoke less and less as they carried on, staying in front and rarely even looking back except for quick glances.  The forest, already darkened by the disappearance of the sun behind the clouds, began to fall further into shadow as evening approached.  As the sun began to set on another day the clouds changed from yellow, to orange, eventually darkening to a rich crimson.  All the while, they were followed by the sound of birds flitting from tree to tree.  Teresa was gazing up into the boughs of the trees when Timmy gave a gentle tug on the hem of her shirt.

“Teresa.  I really don’t feel very well.”  His voice was small and weak, and he swayed slightly as he spoke.

“How bad is it Timmy?”  Teresa knelt down again, bringing her face level with his.

“Pretty bad.  I need to stop.”  Teresa looked at her little brother and brushed his sodden fringe out of his eyes.  He stared back at her, holding her gaze but she noticed that his legs were shaking.  She glanced over to Cynthia who was staggering along in as if in some sort of trance.  She looked better than Timmy, but not by a lot.  She hugged her little brother close.  He collapsed into her arms without resistance.  Teresa raised her head and called out:

“Martin, we have to stop!”

Martin did not stop.  He continued to trudge on into the darkening woods, apparently not hearing the cry.

“Martin, stop!”

He did this time, but didn’t turn around.  Well that’s a start, thought Teresa.  He’s probably in one of his moods.

“Timmy’s not well, we’ll have to rest.  We need to find some shelter.”

There was still no response from Martin.

“Martin?  Are you okay?”

Martin shook his head slowly and turned around and Teresa bit her lower lip.  His eyes were red, puffed and glazed with tears.

“Oh Martin...” she began as he started to stagger back towards them.

“I’m sorry,” he was saying, “I thought we could do it.  I thought we could get to Thorn Valley and everything would be okay.  I thought I could take us there.” His voice cracked as he let out a violent sob.  “Now we are lost in the woods, at night, with nowhere to go.  It’s my fault.  It’s all my fault.”  As he reached them, he collapsed onto the ground, sitting in a pathetic lump, hanging his head.

“It’s okay, Martin.  We’ll find somewhere to stay,” said Teresa.  She heard Cynthia sniff and felt her own face begin to warm.  Timothy had gone very heavy in her arms.  She thought she had to stop this quickly.

“Martin, buck it up!  We need you to find us some shelter.  We’ll wait out the night and find the Rats in the morning.”  She glanced at Timmy.  She wasn’t sure that was an option but she had to try and get Martin to snap out of this.

“Martin!” she snapped and opened her mouth to continue.  She stopped as she heard a rustling from the trees above.  Looking up she saw what had made the noise and caught her breath.  Staring back down at them were four magpies, their eyes glittered hungrily in the blood red twilight.

“We need to go now!” she said, still holding Timmy with one arm, but reaching out with the other to try and shake Martin.  Cynthia ran up behind Teresa and hugged herself to her older sister’s back, trembling with fear and fatigue.  Teresa herself was still trying to pull Martin up with her one free arm but he was too big, too heavy, and he remained where he was, sobbing.

“We need to go... Oh!”  Teresa was cut short as the birds landed in a loose circle around the four mice.  One particularly dishevelled bird peered at them and grinned.  Instead of standing still he swayed as if about to faint, but his eyes suggested he was in complete control and was thinking sinister little thoughts.  He spoke:

“What is this that wanders into my fiefdom, little ones?  What ever could have made this stray here at such a late hour...?”  The bird’s voice was little more than a hiss.  His beak was damaged, with chips missing, and saliva flew through these gaps whenever he made a sound.  One of the other birds bought his head down, close to Martin who had recovered from his misery only to look around at the birds in despair.

“Mmmm.  You smell fresh.  Young meat!”

Another chipped in:

“One each, but who gets the little one?  It looks the most tender.”

“As long as I have the large one.  It looks like it may struggle so.”

“Quiet, little ones,” hissed the first again.  “First they will die, then we shall feast.”  His constantly shifting stance stopped unexpectedly and he addressed the young mice for the first time bringing his face down, closer to them, “Though we could just stop them running,” he hissed, the grin souring into a sneer.

Three of the Brisby children could only stare back at their tormentors, paralysed by a cold dread. Timothy had his eyes closed, and was very still in his sister’s arms.  Teresa could only look back into the magpie’s terrible face.  There was nothing she could do.  Timmy definitely couldn’t run, Cynthia wouldn’t get far, Martin could probably make it to the undergrowth, but they were going to stay together.  Teresa’s mind raced, fighting every urge to bolt for cover.  She would not leave them!  What to do?

“Look at them quiver!  Ha!  Ha hah!” barked one of the magpies.  Teresa did not close her eyes.  She was afraid to look, but more afraid not to know what was coming.

The magpies fell silent and turned at the distant sound of a high-pitched screech.  Teresa looked too, wondering how this would affect their fate.  As she watched, a shape formed out of the darkness.  As it neared, she saw it was huge, and bore down on the huddle of animals.  Its eyes shone a brilliant gold and it issued another piercing screech as it bowled one of the magpies over.  The others leapt backwards, away from the mice as the newcomer yawed in the air and landed, bellowing as it did so.

“Back, Carion!  Back!”  It beat its huge wings at the magpies.  “You shall not have these little ones!”

One of the magpies hissed but backed away from the gigantic bird.

“Want the morsels for yourself?  Have you become so old you have to steal from us?”  Its eyes glittered unpleasantly.

“Be gone!” bellowed the bird who was now almost standing over the mice.  Its mighty wings were spread in challenge to the others.  The magpie hissed again and took to the air, quickly followed by the others.  Teresa looked up at creature that towered over them, right into the burning, golden eyes.  The Great Owl!

“Quickly!” he called to the mice, and bowed close to the ground.  “Onto my back!  They have been startled but they will recover!”  Teresa simply nodded and guided Cynthia and Martin up to the bird.  The shock of the confrontation had shaken both of them out of their fatigued stupor and they managed to scale the owl’s massive flank.  Timothy was another matter.  Teresa picked up his limp form.

“Martin, help!” she called.

“Make haste!” roared the Great Owl again.  As he said this, one of the magpies swooped down and made a grab at the mice.  The Owl screeched and lurched, nearly throwing all the Brisby children to the ground.  Martin regained his balance and reached down and pulled his little brother up onto the owl’s back.  Then Teresa hopped up too.  The Great Owl didn’t wait for a signal that they were ready.  He merely spread his massive wings and took to the air, soaring between the trees.  Three of the Brisby children sat, clinging desperately to his back.  Timothy’s weight was being supported by both Teresa and Martin.  The Great Owl swerved and rolled, effortlessly dodging branches in their way.  Then with a few immense beats of his wings they broke through the canopy, and into the darkening purple of the evening sky, soaring away over the forest...

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