CHAPTER THREE
When Bracken awoke, clean white sheets were nestled into his body and his head was resting on a soft white pillow. His back felt much better, though it still throbbed with a steady beat of far-off pain. He blinked and opened his eyes. He was in the abbey infirmary, and it was dark outside, the black sky studded with stars. In the bed next to him lay his otter friend Tregg, still asleep and snoring gently.
Bracken felt a lot better. He climbed out of bed and stretched. He was hungry. He was just about to go down to see if anything was left from supper when he noticed a tray at the bedside stand, laden with almond- studded cheeses, two small portions of custard, a fruit salad and two beakers of sparkling cold strawberry cordial. Bracken took his portion and sat on his bed, looking out the window at the stars and chewing reflectively on his cheese.
A moment later Tregg snuffled and said in the darkness, "Bracken, mate, you awake?"
Bracken moved the candle nearer. "Yeah, I'm awake. Are you feeling okay? What happened?"
Tregg attacked his food with gusto, and said through a mouthful of salad, "Mrf, scrumph, gulp. Yeah, I'm all right. I barely got you back to th' abbey afore I collapsed. Head wound, y'know. You were long outta it by the time the Abbess opened the gate fer us. They stuck us both up here with no supper."
Bracken swallowed his salad regretfully and took a swig of cordial. "That bird," he said, "What was that bird that attacked us? And why?"
The otter shrugged. "Search me. I think it was some sort of crow, maybe a starling. Don't they live far up north, though? What would one be doing down 'ere?"
"I certainly wonder why it attacked us," the young squirrel said. Then, "How long have we been asleep?"
Tregg said, "A while. I'd imagine it's nearly morn. We could nip down early fer some brekkers."
Bracken stood up, and as he did so he noticed the bandage under his new tunic. "That must have been a bad cut."
The two friends tiptoed quietly out of the infirmary and slunk down the stairs. They walked through the silent darkness of Great Hall and to the kitchen. As they reached the door, Bracken stopped. "Hear that?" he said. "What?" Tregg replied loudly.
"Ssh! It's gone now. It was some sort of scrabbling, I think. Somebeast's in there."
They pushed the door open silently. There, positioned squarely on the central countertop, beak submerged in a big custard pie, was the bird that had attacked them earlier that day.
Bracken was about to slink away and get his father and mother, but before he could do anything Tregg roared, "Get that bird!" He tore across the kitchen and made a mad grab for the starling. It squawked noisily and backed off abruptly, leaving Tregg nose-first in the pie. Dripping custard, the otter chased the bird around the kitchen, pans clanging loudly, silverware crashing to the floor, vegetable scraps littering the floor. Bracken tried to get away but slipped on a spilt jar of hucklejuice, skidding across the floor and hitting a bag of flour full force, sending him off-balanced and teetering into the counter.
Tregg bounded through the other door, chasing the crazed starling through Great Hall.
Bracken coughed as clouds of flour rose into the air. He was sitting awkwardly amid a heap of custard, flour covering him from tip to tail, sticking to the juice that covered him as well. Custard and pie crust crumbs stuck to his fur.
Friar Guster burst through the door, his vast stomach heaving with exertion. "What in the name of fur and claw is going on down here?" He gasped, waving a rolling pin.
"Bracken!" He cried, "Of all creatures! What ever are you doing? What have you done to my kitchen? What is the meaning of this?!" He waved the pin wildly, pointing it accusingly at the floured young squirrel, who hastily tried to explain, "There was a bird, a big one, like a crow, in the kitchen, and Tregg and I, we saw it, and Tregg-"
"Enough! Don't give me this poppycock about giant birds and your daft otter friend! Excuses, excuses! Come with me, young squirrel, we'll let your parents deal with this matter!"
"No, I swear!" Bracken growled as the fat mouse grabbed him by the ear and wrenched him up. "There was a starling! It's still in the abbey! Tregg is trying to catch it."
As the abbey knew him as a smart, sensible young creature, Bracken was listened to in most cases. The Friar acknowledged this, and glared accusingly at him. "Bird, eh?" Let me rouse your father, he'll deal with this bird that you speak of, if it is so that you aren't lying to me, young scamp."
With a final aerial stab of the rolling pin, the fat little Friar waddled out of the kitchen, yelling back, "You clean up this mess and get yourself cleaned up and I won't mention this to the Abbess!"
Bracken, muttering crossly to himself, began to pick up the pans from the floor. "Daft old mouse, wouldn't know a bird if it nested in his robe. Wouldn't care if Mom knew anyway, she always believes me, so does Dad, when he's not in a mood."
(AUTHOR'S NOTE: This one was kinda short. . .still a little slow, too. . .I SWEAR it'll get more interesting soon!)
When Bracken awoke, clean white sheets were nestled into his body and his head was resting on a soft white pillow. His back felt much better, though it still throbbed with a steady beat of far-off pain. He blinked and opened his eyes. He was in the abbey infirmary, and it was dark outside, the black sky studded with stars. In the bed next to him lay his otter friend Tregg, still asleep and snoring gently.
Bracken felt a lot better. He climbed out of bed and stretched. He was hungry. He was just about to go down to see if anything was left from supper when he noticed a tray at the bedside stand, laden with almond- studded cheeses, two small portions of custard, a fruit salad and two beakers of sparkling cold strawberry cordial. Bracken took his portion and sat on his bed, looking out the window at the stars and chewing reflectively on his cheese.
A moment later Tregg snuffled and said in the darkness, "Bracken, mate, you awake?"
Bracken moved the candle nearer. "Yeah, I'm awake. Are you feeling okay? What happened?"
Tregg attacked his food with gusto, and said through a mouthful of salad, "Mrf, scrumph, gulp. Yeah, I'm all right. I barely got you back to th' abbey afore I collapsed. Head wound, y'know. You were long outta it by the time the Abbess opened the gate fer us. They stuck us both up here with no supper."
Bracken swallowed his salad regretfully and took a swig of cordial. "That bird," he said, "What was that bird that attacked us? And why?"
The otter shrugged. "Search me. I think it was some sort of crow, maybe a starling. Don't they live far up north, though? What would one be doing down 'ere?"
"I certainly wonder why it attacked us," the young squirrel said. Then, "How long have we been asleep?"
Tregg said, "A while. I'd imagine it's nearly morn. We could nip down early fer some brekkers."
Bracken stood up, and as he did so he noticed the bandage under his new tunic. "That must have been a bad cut."
The two friends tiptoed quietly out of the infirmary and slunk down the stairs. They walked through the silent darkness of Great Hall and to the kitchen. As they reached the door, Bracken stopped. "Hear that?" he said. "What?" Tregg replied loudly.
"Ssh! It's gone now. It was some sort of scrabbling, I think. Somebeast's in there."
They pushed the door open silently. There, positioned squarely on the central countertop, beak submerged in a big custard pie, was the bird that had attacked them earlier that day.
Bracken was about to slink away and get his father and mother, but before he could do anything Tregg roared, "Get that bird!" He tore across the kitchen and made a mad grab for the starling. It squawked noisily and backed off abruptly, leaving Tregg nose-first in the pie. Dripping custard, the otter chased the bird around the kitchen, pans clanging loudly, silverware crashing to the floor, vegetable scraps littering the floor. Bracken tried to get away but slipped on a spilt jar of hucklejuice, skidding across the floor and hitting a bag of flour full force, sending him off-balanced and teetering into the counter.
Tregg bounded through the other door, chasing the crazed starling through Great Hall.
Bracken coughed as clouds of flour rose into the air. He was sitting awkwardly amid a heap of custard, flour covering him from tip to tail, sticking to the juice that covered him as well. Custard and pie crust crumbs stuck to his fur.
Friar Guster burst through the door, his vast stomach heaving with exertion. "What in the name of fur and claw is going on down here?" He gasped, waving a rolling pin.
"Bracken!" He cried, "Of all creatures! What ever are you doing? What have you done to my kitchen? What is the meaning of this?!" He waved the pin wildly, pointing it accusingly at the floured young squirrel, who hastily tried to explain, "There was a bird, a big one, like a crow, in the kitchen, and Tregg and I, we saw it, and Tregg-"
"Enough! Don't give me this poppycock about giant birds and your daft otter friend! Excuses, excuses! Come with me, young squirrel, we'll let your parents deal with this matter!"
"No, I swear!" Bracken growled as the fat mouse grabbed him by the ear and wrenched him up. "There was a starling! It's still in the abbey! Tregg is trying to catch it."
As the abbey knew him as a smart, sensible young creature, Bracken was listened to in most cases. The Friar acknowledged this, and glared accusingly at him. "Bird, eh?" Let me rouse your father, he'll deal with this bird that you speak of, if it is so that you aren't lying to me, young scamp."
With a final aerial stab of the rolling pin, the fat little Friar waddled out of the kitchen, yelling back, "You clean up this mess and get yourself cleaned up and I won't mention this to the Abbess!"
Bracken, muttering crossly to himself, began to pick up the pans from the floor. "Daft old mouse, wouldn't know a bird if it nested in his robe. Wouldn't care if Mom knew anyway, she always believes me, so does Dad, when he's not in a mood."
(AUTHOR'S NOTE: This one was kinda short. . .still a little slow, too. . .I SWEAR it'll get more interesting soon!)