Chapter 13

Griff and the Really Mads had reached the edge of a ravine lined by stunted shrubs and whispering grasses before they dared stop for breath. The ground was all broken and churned up by the hooves of animals hoping—at the fly-bitten end of this dry season—to find even a puddle to lick. Uncle sniffed and thought he could feel the weight of heavy clouds over his head.

“Careful now,” he panted. “I’ll go ahead and take a look at what’s down there.” He was nervous. The nighttime is not when meerkats should be roaming around in the Upworld. And right now, they were in very dark, very strange territory, where enemies crept and crawled.

The earth began to tremble. For a flickering moment, the sky split and lit up like a sunny day. Blinding bolts of lightning hissed and stabbed at the sands, throwing up the silhouettes of a line of elephants coming toward them. They were desperate for water and the great bulls were flapping their ears and swinging their tusks and trunks in a rage. Another flash. “Those tuskers won’t have to wait long for a drink and a mudbath. The rains are here!” cried Uncle

The elephants began to trot forward like a dark line of moving hills, each one holding the tail of the one in front with his trunk. To the meerkats, even the baby elephants looked like mountains.

“Cover your ears!” yelled Uncle. It was good advice. The lightning was quickly followed by thunder louder than the hooves of ten thousand migrating wildebeests. It scared even the mighty elephants, and they screamed and trumpeted—and suddenly—it was a stampede!

“Down! Before they trample us flat! Down into the ravine!” cried Uncle, and led everyone down the steep slope.

Even in their panic, the great beasts were anxious to keep to the higher ground. When they realized that the land was dropping away sharply, they reared and turned, then dashed sideways, following the line of parched shrubs. Even so, their great, flat feet loosened earth and rocks from the edge of the gully and sent them crashing down.

“Avalanche!” screamed Mimi as she tumbled into the dip. She saw Little Dream go rolling past her down the bank, like a curled-up beetle. Then, by the dazzling light of another zig-zag of lightning, she caught a glimpse of Uncle and Radiant tumbling together. A huge rock bounced over her and narrowly missed Griff and Skeema, who were just ahead of her.

All too soon, Mimi lay stunned and scared to death at the bottom of the gully. The noise and the darkness and the crashing earth and rocks spread over her like the dreaded shadow of The Silent Enemy. There was no sign of her little mob or of poor Griff. She had never felt more alone.

The rain began to come down, at first in fat drops that thudded onto her head and back and pounded into the thirsty sand. Then it came down in lumps, then like a waterfall. Then it felt as if all the air had disappeared and had been replaced by water. She tucked her head under the arch of her little body and made a space to breathe.

“Yip-yip! To me! All in to me!” It was Uncle, sounding his rallying call in the darkness.

Somehow Mimi pulled herself together and scrambled toward the sound. By the light of a lightning bolt, she spied Radiant dragging Little Dream out by the scruff of his neck from under a heap of sand, broken branches, and stones. And there, a little farther along the gully, Uncle stood tall, calling, calling…

“Where’s Griff?” yelled Mimi. “Is he all right? Has anyone seen him?”

Before anyone could answer, there was a gurgling sound and then a rushing swoosh! of water racing toward them. “What is it, Uncle?” cried Skeema.

“Oh no! By all that sweeps and swirls! This must be a dry riverbed we’re in!” called Uncle. “And if I’m not mistaken, the river wants its bed back, right now! Brace yourselves, everyone, and cling together!”

“But Fearless!” came the nervous voice of Radiant. “My dear, I’m not sure if I can swim!”

“Me neither, my Fluff!” cried Uncle. “But hang onto my fur! We’re just about to find out!”

“Help!” wailed the kits in one voice.

The first wave struck them like a wall and swept them along as if they were no heavier than dry leaves.

*

Luckily, as Shadow was just able to observe from the bank of the newborn river, meerkats can swim if they have to. They were lit up for him by a purple sheet of lightning, hung down from the swollen, shifting clouds. He grunted with satisfaction and then lost sight of the meerkat mob as they floated around the bend.

Un-luckily, meerkats are not built to keep swimming for long.

The Really Mads struggled bravely to keep together without dragging one another down. They managed to steer clear of some nasty looking rocks and then they came to a waterfall.

It was then that they discovered they were not the only creatures to be swept away.

First, they bounced off a springbok. That was alright. He wasn’t too hard.

Then they sailed past a small fleet of snorting warthogs that had no trouble at all sailing along.

Some zebras struggled in a line to get across from one bank to the other, nodding and kicking the water under them, and blowing raspberries.

“Look out!” yelled Little Dream. “Snake!”

It wasn’t a snake that any of them had seen before, but it was huge and fat and winding rapidly toward them. “Stand by to repel boarders!” commanded Uncle. Mimi felt for her headband. The feathers in it had been swept away, but a couple of porcupine quills remained.

Skeema braced himself. “Wait! He’s coming on my side. Hold my sharp stick!” he said to Mimi, and she managed to take it without letting go of her grip on Uncle’s fur. That left Skeema in a position to hang on, too, and at the same time to dip the Snap-snap under the water and give him a hard squeeze. The hungry snake swung closer. “Come on, come on…” said Skeema through gritted teeth. “Show me where you are!”

He didn’t have long to wait. A jagged lightning flash lit up the reptile’s head. Before it had time to open its jaws and swallow Skeema—PPPSSSSSSS!—the Snap-snap spat a fast jet of muddy water right into the snake’s beady eye!

That did it. The side-winding brute made a fast retreat.

“Shot, sir!” said Uncle, though not with a great deal of energy. “Where did you learn that trick?”

“I got it off an oogpister beetle,” said Skeema, though he hardly had the breath to speak. Like the others, he felt his fur getting waterlogged. He was sinking fast.

“I can’t hold onto you much longer, Fearless,” gasped Radiant. “Perhaps it would be better if I drifted away. Then you can save your strength for the kits…”

“Don’t give up, my dear!” urged Fearless. “Hang on. And everyone, kick! Kick for that yellow rock!”

Kick as they might, the brave Really Mads didn’t have the strength to swim much farther.

They closed their eyes. There was nothing they could do but let the wild, young river take them where it wanted.