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  [colpse]Chapter One Hundred ay-Eight - Walking Songs

  We had to usher the st bun off the Beaver Cleaver. It was really hard, because they really didn’t want to leave. The whole lot of them had only grown more and more excited as they bounced around the inside of the ship.

  I thought that maybe Clive wouldn’t like having so many little people on the ship, but somehow he gathered a bunch of the littler ones in a big pile before him and started telling these great stories about strange pces and weird peoples that he’d met while travelling.

  I won’t say that I was envious of the kids listening to his stories, but I did kind of want to joihey certainly seemed to enjoy it, every ear that could perked up and listening.

  “Alright,” I said as I helped the st little one down the dder. We’d lowered the Beaver until his keel was just brushing the grass, just in case a bu over the edge. It also meant that the dder wasn’t as much of a climb. “That’s the st of them,” I cheered.

  Amaryllis had her feathers poking out every which way, and Awen looks just as bedraggled. Even Bastion looked a bit mussed up.

  “Wow,” I said. “You’re all really bad with kids.”

  “They kept pulling my feathers!” Amaryllis shrieked.

  A few of the little buns still nearby squeaked and bounced off.

  “They found them pretty,” I said. “Which they are.”

  “Don’t try to ftter your way out of this,” she said while brushialons through her feathers. “You’re too dumb to get away with it.”

  Her reply was met with ughter, but not from me. I turo find Momma wading through a sea of little buns. There had to be forty or fifty that had e aboard the Beaver to bounce around our decks and ooh and ahh at everything while annoying the scallywags and the rest of the crew.

  “When I said you’d make an impression,” Momma said. “Even I didn’t think it would be this big. Thank you fiving the little ones a tour.”

  “My pleasure,” I said. “They were really well-behaved.”

  “That’s good to hear,” Momma said. She gnced over my friends, then bae. “We’re about to leave. If you want to e with us, now’s the time.”

  I nodded. “I’d love to. We have all of our stuff ready. Uh, should we follow you?”

  “You ,” Momma said. “I still have to inform a few people that we’ll be gone for a spell. Do you want to meet by the nate?”

  I bobbed my head up and down. “Sure thing!” I said. She rubbed my head, the same way she pat the little ones as she moved past them.

  I watched her move off, then skipped over to my backpad spear, both left a little ways uhe Beaver. Amaryllis picked up her own pack, and Awen put on her heavy coat and slung her crossbow over one shoulder and a satchel over the other. Bastion had the smallest pack. A small purse-sized thing strapped low on his bad out of the way of his wings.

  “I think this might be a lot of fun,” I said as I started heading north. I waved to all the little ones we crossed, and they waved and cheered us on.

  “I’m already exhausted,” Amaryllis said.

  “Oh, e on, it ’t be that bad!” I said. “It’s an adventure.”

  “I’ve been on adventures with you.”

  “And you’re still alive and just as grumpy as when we first met,” I said.

  Amaryllis huffed most mightily.

  We found Momma where she said she’d be. With her were three other buns. The huge one we’d met when we arrived at Hospalot, though now instead of simple clothes and a big apron, he was in full pte armour, with a shield pnted by his side that had to weigh as much as three Broccolis. He had a hammer sitting on the grouo him, with a long haft and a head that looked a bit like the bottom of one of those two-liter soda bottles, but meaner.

  o him was a small bun woman in a thick bundle of cloth with a cascade of red hair p out of a leather cap. Her gambeson, all broadded, made her look like a marshmallow with two ears stig out the top. She had a pair of big gaus on, and bigger boots with metal studs on them.

  And finally there was a small bun man, in a much thinner gambeson with krapped to his hips and a big bck cloak over everything.

  Momma had ged out of her summer dress at some point, and now wore half-pte over her chest and a ringed skirt with mail here and there. She only had a knife by her side, and it looked more utilitarian than a on. Her helmet only hid half her face, and made her look like some sort of long-toothed monster with a big mane.

  “Are you all ready to set out?” she asked as she lifted a pack over her shoulder with a casual swing.

  I was starting to get what Bastio about her being oronger side.

  “Yup,” I said. “Is this everyone?”

  “It is,” Momma said.

  I bowed a bit to our new friends, then gri the lot of them until my cheeks hurt. “Hi, I’m Broccoli Bunch, I’ll be in your care today. I hope that I learn lots and that we bee great friends.”

  Buster HopsyDesired Quality: Someone who looks up to himDream: To never see a friend be hurt

  That was for the big guy ie armour.

  Carrot LopsyDesired Quality: Someone funDream: To fill Hopsalot with little buns

  That was the red-headed bun, who grinned right back at me.

  Peter FlopsyDesired Quality: Someone quiet and uandingDream: To retire peacefully, and away from all the noisy people he likes

  And that was the rogue-looking one. He seemed nice, but I had the impression it would be hard to make friends with him.

  Momma introduced everyone by name, and my friends did the same. And then, just like that, we were off.

  The area surrounding Hopsalot retty much cleared of any woods. A lot of open space, with little rocks jutting out of the ground here and there, and spaces that were covered in lush grass and little fenced-off patches where unfamiliar pnts were growing i rows.

  We passed a couple of farmers with big floppy sun hats on our way to the woods. Momma waved at them, and they would wave back, or call out for us to have some good lu our adventures.

  When we grew closer to the woods, Buster cleared his throat and started to hum a low, droning tune.

  “Off to the woods and off to pyI went off to hike and find some funI danced in the sun and rain all dayOff to the woods and on, my son

  I bounced with a bonny with bright blue eyesAnd I scuffed my knees on my own prideIn the morrow she came with a surpriseI found myself with both hands tied

  Oh, off to the mill and off to funBecause my blue-eyed bonny was fat with sons”

  Buster and Carrot and even Momma sang the st liogether. Carrot, as it turned out, couldn’t carry a tu all. She was dht awful, but it was really encing because she was so enthusiastic about it. It didn’t help that the song had a strauo it.

  “That was great,” I said.

  Momma chuckled. “Do you know any walking songs?” she asked.

  I shook my head. “Nope, but I wouldn’t mind learning!”

  “The winter songs are nicer,” Peter said.

  “It’s not the right season for that,” Carrot chirped. “Not yet, at least.”

  “I wouldn’t mind hearing it anyway,” I said.

  Peter hen started in a really pretty, lilting voice.

  “Walk, this path through the sleet and rainSnow, the sky sends for our headsGrit the will to bear all the strainDrive a-way the fear and dread

  Cold, the dark of the win-try nightBuns, the lead-ers char-ging boldWarm-is to set them a-lightPush-ing on and we for-e-ver hold”

  Without really even realizing it, I found myself stepping in time with the others, the gs and bangs of Buster’s armour pying the drums to which Peter set his tune.

  When he repeated the whole thing over from the start, I found myself humming as the other buns joined in with their own voices.

  “Awa, I... I know a walking song,” Awen said. By then we were a good few minutes into the forest, the trees g up at the sky around us, and masking the sun in yers of shifting green leaves.

  “Really?” I asked. The only songs I knew were ear-worms, and I didn’t want to ruin this world by introdug “Barbie Girl” to it.

  Awen coughed a few times, then took a deep breath. Her cheeks were already a little rosey from the attention, but she seemed i on singing anyway.

  Mattergrove girls ain't got no worriesWhen they see a boy they spread their knees

  And we're bound for the SnowndsSo k away, me rough and tumble boysk away, k awayHeave her up and don't let her make a noiseAnd we're bound for the Snownds

  Mattergrove kids ain't got no clothesHow they stay warm, ain’t no one knows

  And we're bound for the SnowndsSo k away, me rough and tumble boysk away, k away

  Mattergrove birds ain't got no tailsThey chopped them off with a dragon’s scales

  Heave her up and don't let her make a noiseAnd we're bound for the Snownds

  Mattergrove girls ain't got no bottomsThey fill their skirts with packed up cotton

  And we're bound for the SnowndsSo k away, me rough and tumble boysk away, k awayHeave her up and don't let her make a noiseAnd we're bound for the Snownds!”

  I cpped when Awen finished, and she rewarded me with a huge grin. Carrot and Buster cpped too, the redhead while giggling quite maniacally. Awen’s singing voice, as it turned out, was very pretty. Clear and almost angelic. She must have practiced a whole lot.

  “Where on Dirt did you learn that song?” Amaryllis asked. She didn’t sound nearly as enthusiastic as I did.

  “Um. My uaught it to me,” Awen said. “He used to sing it all the time when w on the Shady Lady.” Her smile turned a little wistful. “He used to ugh a lot when I sang along. Aold me o sing it with my mom around.”

  “Of course he did,” Amaryllis said. “That sdrel.”

  “What’s wrong with the song?” Awen asked. “Did I sing it wrong? I think I remember all the lyrics right.”

  “I’m not doubting your memory,” Amaryllis said. “I’m doubting your on sense.”

  “Huh?” Awen asked.

  I was a bit lost too.

  “Nevermind,” Amaryllis said. “Here, listen to this one.” She took a deep breath, then started to chirp and whistle.

  I was expeg lyrics, but none came, just more whistles and the occasional squawk.

  Carrot was the first to let out a snort. Then I started to giggle too. Soon, Momma and Buster and Awen were ughing too, and Amaryllis cut herself off mid-whistle with a discordant toot.

  That made me ugh even harder.

  “That’s right, mock turies of harpy culture, why don’t you?” Amaryllis grumbled.

  Our walk tinued, filled with songs and ughter, and sometimes the occasional bit of whistling.

  This was what I had always envisioned when I thought of adventure, and I was gd to be part of it, evehe others told me that I ants at carrying a tune.

  ***

  RavensDagger

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