chapter one page 2

 Chapter one / page 2  

Eric, the Governor of the Twelfth Order of Wygnets, was just putting on his brown hat. He was about to go down to the new tunnel, to find if it was safe.In a few minutes Pendle and Pendleberry would wake from their nap and want to scamper down it as a short cut to get to their camp. He had reached up to grab his hat from the twig-hook. His action-antennae were performing well today.

Then there was a thump. It shook Eric through his too-sensitive-puff-ball fur. Not just once, but thump. Thump. Thump. Three of them. He knew it wasn’t thunder. The sound was too dull. Like a kick he thought. He huffed a bit – after all he was getting oldish (nearly 6, which is old age creeps on time for a Wygnet) – then he tramped to the back door, opened it a crack and nearly jumped out of his puff-ball!

Jiminy! Jiminy Wicket! He exclaimed. Then, Shiva ma timba! Eric always got carried away once he started, Wot ‘ave we ‘ere? To be quite honest he wasn’t that scared and he liked to do impersonations. He got them from the Wygnet-box.

‘Ow d’you do? He shot out a search stick antenna. The box had shown him hand shakes and shown him man-creatures. What he could never understand was that men-creatures only had two antennae. Now, he Eric, could eat his ants, pick his snout, pull up his pants, comfort Pendleberry when she cried – which was very often – and clean the set and do many other things. All at once.

He stared at the mini-man for a whole second. Time runs slowly for Wygnets. Then he chortled

‘Allo Mini-man. Wot a nose! Eric let out a spoosh which is a Wygnet laugh. 

What about my nose? Alex, who was bending over the Wygnet burrow, was really indignant. His Grannie had told him his nose was “aristocwatic”, or something. He touched the tip of his nose and frowned, then in a little fit of temper, being prone to these, he kicked the entrance to the Wygnet burrow again. A shower of earth spattered Eric’s longer-than-the-usual nose.

Wot the blazes! He was not used to temper-tantrums, Wygnets never had such things, as they are peaceful beings. This time it was Alex’s turn to crease-up.

Hey, you’ve got measles! Anyway, he paused, what the heck are you? A Mister man? Are you Mister Gump, or Mr Doodle-Bug? Or … Alex’s keen imagination was getting going.