Grizzy hadn’t said a thing since they left the sleeping dragon, but finally she spoke.
‘Borgon?’ she said. ‘You know how you picked up the dragon’s trail from a piece of grass and two pebbles? I’ve got to tell you, that was totally amazing. I had no idea you could do stuff like that.’
Borgon tried to stay cool but he couldn’t. Grizzy had just said EXACTLY what he’d wanted to hear. And before he could stop himself, he heard himself saying:
‘I can’t believe you managed to hit that dragon on the nose with a stone. You were so fast. I’ve never seen anything like it.’
The two looked at each other suspiciously. This ‘being nice’ thing was all a bit uncomfortable.
‘It’s just a pity you’re so bad at everything else,’ said Borgon.
‘Are you kidding?’ said Grizzy. ‘I’ll race you back.’
‘Eat my dust!’ shouted Borgon.
The two of them shot off towards Golgarth Basin. They galloped between rocks, jumped over cactuses, and kicked up great clouds of sand and tiny spiders. Although Grizzy’s little grey horse had shot ahead to start with, Borgon’s horse was bigger, stronger and far more used to riding flat out across the desert, especially with a chubby boy on its back waving an axe and shouting ‘YARGHHHH!’.
Borgon was well ahead by the time he came around the last corner. In front of him was the gap in the rock wall that led into the basin, and inside he could see his mum’s dark red horse tied up outside their cave. He couldn’t wait to give Fulma her surprise!
He was just pulling up his horse when heavy footsteps came running towards him. It was Mungoid, and he was looking worried.
‘Get away!’ warned Mungoid. ‘Go on, hide! Your mum’s going mad about this dangerous breakfast.’
‘But she’s not meant to know,’ said Borgon. ‘Who told her?’
‘Hunjah,’ said Mungoid. ‘She’s got him trapped in your cave.’
‘Never mind,’ said Borgon. ‘She’s just worried about me, but I’m back now. She’ll be fine.’
‘Oh no she won’t!’ said Mungoid. ‘I’ve heard her screaming. Now GO!’
Borgon tried to pull his horse round and gallop away, but the horse was feeling tired. It decided to fold its back legs and sit down, just like a dog. Borgon slid straight down the horse’s back and landed on the rocky ground.
Borgon leapt to his feet, but before he could run off, a voice called him back.
‘STAY THERE!’
Fulma stepped out of the cave.
‘Oh mighty me,’ whimpered Mungoid, then he hurried off to hide behind a rock.
Fulma’s dark red hair was sticking right out like the spikes on a porcupine.
‘Hello, lovely Mummy,’ said Borgon. ‘Did you have a nice time?’
‘Don’t you LOVELY MUMMY me!’ snapped Fulma and she bared her teeth. Borgon had forgotten she’d just been to have them sharpened. My goodness, the teeth sharpener had done a very good job. They looked like two rows of white needles. Oo-er!
By this time Hunjah and Fulgut had arrived too, along with Grizzy’s mum, Gavista. It was obvious the two mums had been having a blazing row.
‘What have you done with Grizzy?’ demanded Gavista.
‘Nothing!’ said Borgon.
‘Oh no?’ said Gavista. ‘You took her to get a dangerous breakfast.’
‘Don’t deny it, Borgon,’ said Fulma. ‘Hunjah told us.’
‘Sorry, Borgon,’ said Hunjah. His big hat was wobbling and his thin little knees were knocking. ‘They made me tell them!’
Poor Hunjah. Borgon knew his friend would have tried to keep quiet, but nobody could hold out for long if Fulma was doing her freaky face.
‘Don’t listen to Hunjah, Mum!’ said Borgon. ‘He only eats tomatoes. He thinks everything else is dangerous.’
‘That’s not true,’ said Hunjah. ‘I like bananas too. And lettuce.’
‘BE QUIET!’ snapped Gavista. ‘Where’s Grizzy?’
‘She’s right behind me,’ said Borgon. ‘Look!’
They looked out of the gap in the rock wall, but all they could see was the empty path leading out across the Lost Desert. There was no sign of the girl on the little grey horse. Gavista turned on Fulma.
‘Your son went off to get a dangerous breakfast with Grizzy, and now he’s come back alone. Your son has eaten my daughter! I know he has. You barbarians are all the same.’
‘Fulgut!’ demanded Fulma. ‘Do you know anything about this dangerous breakfast?’
‘Who? What? Me?’ The big old barbarian looked a bit sheepish. ‘Oh no. I’m sure it was just a harmless bit of fun …’
‘Harmless fun?’ screeched Grizzy’s mum. ‘LOOK AT HIM!’
They all looked at Borgon. The dragon’s blood on his clothes was drying and flaking off, he was battered and bruised, and the back of his trousers had been burnt away.
‘Calm down, Mum,’ said Borgon. ‘I was making a nice surprise for you. Look!’
But when Borgon reached down to pull the toast from his belt, it had gone!
‘Borgon!’ hissed Fulma. ‘Where’s Grizzy? Tell us NOW.’
Borgon could feel his mother’s eyes boring into him. His head was starting to throb, his teeth were scraping together, and he was feeling cold, very cold.
Borgon dragged his eyes away and looked round. There was still no sign of that awful girl! But then he spotted a scratch on a rock and some tiny scuff marks in the sand. Suddenly he knew where Grizzy was.
‘Mungoid!’ croaked Borgon. He managed to raise a finger and point out towards the desert.
Borgon’s chunky friend leaped up from behind his rock, then he charged over to the basin entrance and looked round the corner.
‘She’s here!’ shouted Mungoid. ‘She’s been hiding.’
Sure enough, Mungoid came back leading the grey horse with Grizzy on it. She was looking as well and as happy and as irritating as ever.
‘Hey, Borgon, you dropped this!’ laughed Grizzy, waving something. ‘Ha ha!’
‘It’s what Borgon calls dangerous,’ said Grizzy.
‘But … but … it’s only a slice of toast!’ gasped Gavista.
‘Hur hur hur!’ laughed Fulgut quietly. ‘Well done, son! Hur hur hur!’
Gavista was already backing away from Fulma, but too late. The tall, spiky-haired savage took a deep breath and then the words started firing from her mouth like hot darts.
‘So! You think you can come round here INSULTING barbarians and then you have the NERVE to accuse my son of EATING your daughter when all the time they were just having a HARMLESS little ride with no danger to anyone …’
Fulma didn’t stop talking until Gavista had scurried right across to the far side of the basin and hidden herself away in her cave. Grizzy tossed the toast over to Borgon then rode off to join her mum, but not before she’d given him a friendly wave. Of course Borgon and Grizzy were always going to be enemies, but they were going to be NICE enemies.
Borgon passed the toast over to Fulma.
‘Here you are, Mum,’ said Borgon. ‘You told me to be more like Dad. Well, how about this?’
Fulma took it, then sniffed it, then bit off a tiny corner.
‘By the gods!’ she said. ‘Is this what I think it is?’
Fulgut and Borgon both nodded.
Fulma’s face broke into a huge beaming smile. ‘Now that’s what I call a real barbarian breakfast!’
