“WE’VE GOT LLAMA’S Boys!” bellowed the Boar Riders’ Big Man, effortlessly lifting Stony and me above his head.
As we entered their village, a few small children ran alongside the mounted procession, shouting, “Llama’s Boys! Llama’s Boys! Boss Hog’s got Llama’s Boys!”
I was stunned to see that the Boar Rider village looked very similar to my own clan’s. I’d been told that these people lived in filthy wet holes unfit for naked mole rats, but instead I saw many cozy-looking caves surrounding a public clearing of nicely packed dirt. Even their rocks looked clean.
Smack-dab in the center of the village, glinting in the late afternoon sun, stood the Shiny Stone.
The Shiny Stone was a slightly shiny stone. It was also the trophy for the Big Game. The winning clan received the privilege of displaying it in their village until the next Big Game. Boar Riders of all ages began to sing spiritedly as we passed by it:
When Big Game comes
and time to fight,
we kick your bums
and show our might!
Grind Llama’s Boys
to llama’s bones,
and always KEEEEEP …
great Shiny Stone!
Peeking above the stone was a pair of wide green eyes underneath a tangle of red curls. As far as I could tell, this girl was the only one who wasn’t singing.
Boss Hog led us down a boar trail behind their village caves. I thought about the stories of Boar Rider cannibals and noticed Stony sucking in his stomach to try to look skinnier. Then I cleared my throat and addressed the Big Man. “Excuse me, O Huge One?”
He ignored me.
“O … Gigantic One?” I ventured, my voice cracking a little. “Have you noticed how bony I am?”
Nothing.
“O Humongous One! My friend here licks frogs. You really wouldn’t want to eat him.”
“Eat?” grunted Boss Hog. He stepped aside, and I was astounded to see a circle of seated men in a small clearing down the trail. “We’re going to the Clan Council.”
“Wow!” I blurted out as we approached. “You guys do that too?”
“Too?” growled the nearest councilman, giving me a nasty snort. He had greasy red hair and small piggish green eyes. “I know you Macrauchenia Riders live like animals. You don’t have laws or councils.”
“How do you know that, Snortimer?” asked a nearby councilman.
The red-haired Snortimer eyed the guy for a moment. Then he whacked him in the head with a rock.
Boss Hog dumped us in the center of the circle and looked at us questioningly. “Is Snortimer right about you?” he asked.
“No,” I said, “we have a council! We were tried and banished today.” I cringed as soon as I said it.
There was a long silence as a dozen suspicious faces studied us. Stony took the opportunity to smile idiotically at them.
Snortimer’s green piggish eyes bore into mine. “He lies!” he suddenly announced, jumping up and pointing at me. “He’s a little spy.”
I glared at him. I would have been okay with spy, but little spy hurt.
“You here to steal the Shiny Stone?” he demanded.
I shook my head. “Of course not.”
“Then why are you spying on us before the Big Game?”
“I don’t care about the Big Game!” I snapped.
A great raucous laughter went up around the circle. The Big Man guffawed uncontrollably, his jowls and belly jiggling in unison. Even Snortimer smiled.
“And I don’t want to be a part of any big stupid clan,” I blurted out. “I just want to be left alone.”
Boss Hog turned to the council, wiping away the tears of laughter. “What do you think I should do with these silly spies?” he asked.
“Give them up,” said Snortimer. “To Big Mumma.” There was no mirth in his voice now.
But what scared me even more was the look on Boss Hog’s face. He was the biggest, toughest man I had ever seen, and even he looked appalled. He began to waddle toward us, but Snortimer got to him first.
“If you back down, boss, you’ll look weak,” I heard Snortimer whisper to him. “And no one wants a weak Big Man, right?”
Boss Hog nodded sheepishly and stepped back.
The Boar Rider councilmen led Stony and me back toward their village’s central clearing, where a buzzing crowd was starting to gather. Not far from the Shiny Stone, the girl with the big green eyes watched us, now fidgeting anxiously with a curl of red hair. Snortimer stood with us in the clearing, facing a cave entrance blocked by a massive granite boulder and two huge men guarding it.
“Want to see what we keep in there?” he shouted for all to hear.
We shook our heads.
“Then admit you’re spies!”
“But we’re—”
“Say it!”
“What?”
“You’re spies!”
There were titters from the crowd.
Snortimer’s face flushed. “Oinker! Newporker!” he barked at the guards. “Release Big Mumma!”
The nervous laughter suddenly turned into shocked gasps.
Snortimer grinned, then nodded to Oinker and Newporker. The men leaned their shoulders into the big round boulder and grunted. The boulder began to roll, inch by inch, gradually revealing the entrance to a dark cavern behind it. There was a hushed silence.
Little by little, a great hairy boar snout emerged from the darkness. It was longer than my arm and had cavernous moist pink nostrils the width of Stony’s fists. The snout took a cautious, almost delicate, sniff of the air. First in one direction, then another, gingerly sampling what the breeze had to offer. Seeming to catch a whiff of something interesting, the great snout turned toward us.
I shuddered. Stony shuddered. Even Froggy, on Stony’s shoulder, shuddered. We had never seen a snout of this magnitude, and we didn’t want to meet its owner.
“Big Mumma’s hungry,” said Snortimer, backing away from us toward the crowd. “Big Mumma loves new treats.”
Suddenly, a stupendous sow—all muscle and bristle—charged out of the cave.
“Run, Stony!” I screamed, and promptly followed my own advice.
Glancing back, I saw that the low-browed boy had just stood there, holding Froggy protectively to his chest.
When the monstrous sow had nearly reached him, Stony closed his eyes and gave the frog a lick. This must have surprised Big Mumma as much as everyone else, because she came to a sudden halt—her wide wet snout a hairbreadth from Stony’s face. The crowd murmured nervously as she proceeded to sniff the boy and frog. It seemed that only Stony’s tight grip prevented the accidental inhalation of his beloved. Then the sow’s mouth opened and a huge pink tongue emerged. The crowd gasped. She gave Stony and Froggy a lick.
The boy beamed. The frog looked astonished. Big Mumma’s monstrous expression melted into simple delight. She batted her eyelashes at Froggy. Stony reached out and scratched the sow under her snout.
I noticed that Snortimer’s eyes were slits of fury. Everyone began to chatter animatedly.
Then Snortimer held up a hand for silence. “Boar Riders!” he boomed. “Boar Riders—I know the spies’ secret plan!”
The crowd grunted questioningly.
“Llama’s Boys,” he said, pointing helpfully at us, “plan to bring frogs to the Big Game!”
The crowd grunted louder, though still questioningly.
“To make our beasts all nice-nice, of course!” he snarled, pointing at Big Mumma, who was now nuzzling Froggy.
Most of the Boar Riders appeared impressed with Snortimer’s theory—some utterly dazzled. Everyone looked to see what Boss Hog thought, but he looked clueless.
“We’ll crush them, right, Dad?” shouted an eager voice from the throng. It belonged to a huge scowling boy who looked a lot like Boss Hog and sported a necklace made of pig vertebrae around his thick neck.
“Not now, Baconbits,” grunted Boss Hog.
Baconbits turned his impressive scowl onto Stony and me and thunked a massive fist into the palm of his hand.
“Almost makes me miss Bonehead,” I whispered.
Stony’s unibrow perked up at this, and his eyes scanned the nearby trees.
“Bonehead and Bugeyes are the least of our problems now,” I murmured.