Toad Away

  It was a stick.

  A very long stick, held by someone leaning over the edge of the pit.

  Limpy stared up.

  It was a human kid, one of the boys he'd seen playing in the village. He recognized the colored stripes painted on the boy's chest.

  Trembling, Limpy waited for the boy to stab him.

  It was what some human boys did; he'd heard about it loads of times around the swamp at home. Either that or blow you up with bike pumps. They did it to pass the time while they were waiting to grow up into bulldozer drivers.

  Bye, Goliath, thought Limpy sadly. I'm glad you're not here.

  But the boy didn't stab him, he just prodded Limpy gently and gestured until Limpy realized the boy wanted him to hang on to the stick so he could lift him out of the pit.

  Limpy hung on.

  Probably wants to stab me up top where he can see better, thought Limpy as he traveled upward and the snakes muttered bitterly below.

  Perhaps Flatface was right about humans after all.

  But the boy didn't stab Limpy up top.

  He spoke gently to Limpy in a language Limpy didn't understand, then carried him through the forest, put him down at the edge of the swamp, grinned, waved goodbye, and disappeared into the bushes, leaving Limpy feeling very confused.

  While Limpy dug a grave on the riverbank, he had a long think.

  He thought about humans, and how cruel some of them were, and how kind others of them were, and how confusing that was.

  He thought about Flatface, and wondered if Flatface ever got confused.

  But mostly he thought about Charm and all her special qualities.

  The way she could make slugs laugh, even while Goliath was eating them.

  The way she let smaller kids go before her on the mud slide, even though at least one of them always did a poo in the mud from excitement.

  The way she always said sorry if she lost her temper and tried to stab you with a mosquito.

  “Oh, Charm,” whispered Limpy. “I miss you.”

  He wished he could do that thing humans did with their eyes when they were sad, because it seemed to make them feel better.

  Instead he picked up Charm's necklace and looked at it sorrowfully. After a while, he noticed that the dried mouse eyes seemed to be looking back at him just as sorrowfully.

  “You got a bit carried away back there, didn't you?” they seemed to be saying. They seemed to be saying it in Aunty Pru's voice.

  Limpy nodded.

  “You're right,” he said. “I did. I wanted to kill every human in the world. And that was a mistake. I should have just tried to kill every human that has ever driven a bulldozer or built a bulldozer or sold a bulldozer or repaired a bulldozer or cleaned the condensation off the inside of the windscreen of a bulldozer.”

  “And how would that have made you feel?” asked Aunty Pru's voice in Limpy's head.

  “Great,” said Limpy. “Even better than beating Uncle George at mucus-twirling.”

  Inside Limpy, Aunty Pru seemed to sigh.

  Limpy realized it wasn't her, it was him.

  “But I wouldn't have felt great for long,” said Limpy quietly. “Because Charm would still be dead. And so would you, Aunty Pru.”

  Aunty Pru's voice didn't say anything.

  It didn't have to.

  Limpy knew that if she was here, she'd be smiling at him sadly and nodding.

  He held the necklace for a moment more, then kissed it and dropped it into the empty grave. He covered it over and gently patted the soil with his hands.

  “Bye, Charm,” he whispered. “I'm going to finish our quest.”

  Then he went to find Goliath.

  Goliath was in the forest, having trouble with his special rescue unit.

  “No!” He was yelling at a platoon of ribbon worms.

  “You do not march like that. Marching is keeping in step. If you don't keep in step, it's not marching.”

  “But we can't keep in step,” said one of the ribbon worms.

  “How many times do I have to tell you?” yelled Goliath. “Call me sir. We can't keep in step, sir. Anyway, why can't you keep in step? Give me one good reason.”

  “We haven't got feet, sir,” said the ribbon worm.

  “This is pathetic!” roared Goliath. “At this rate my cousin's going to be a prisoner for the rest of his life!”

  Limpy tapped Goliath on the shoulder.

  “Goliath,” he said. “It's OK. I'm free. Now we can get on with our quest.”

  Goliath sighed crossly, glaring at the ribbon worms. “Limpy, not now,” he said. “I'm trying to train a rescue unit. Stack me, look at that. Those butterflies haven't got the faintest idea how to crawl through the mud on their bellies.”

  “Goliath,” said Limpy. “I'm free.”

  “Call yourself a special rescue unit?” Goliath was yelling at the butterflies. “It's pathetic.”

  Then Goliath spun round and stared at Limpy, his big warty face lighting up with amazement and delight.

  “Limpy,” he croaked. “You're free.”

  The ribbon worms and butterflies all applauded.

  Limpy gripped Goliath's arm.

  “Come on,” he said. “We've wasted enough time. We've got to get back to searching for the ancient secret of friendship with humans.”

  Goliath was looking doubtful.

  “What about blowing up the bulldozers?” he said.“And the bulldozer drivers’ lunchboxes?”

  Limpy took a deep breath. It wouldn't be fair to get cross with Goliath. Not after all the effort he'd put into training his rescue unit.

  “There are other humans here,” said Limpy. “In a village. One of them rescued me. The others look pretty friendly too. I think we might be getting closer to the ancient secret.”

  Goliath was still looking doubtful.

  “We didn't come here for war,” said Limpy. “We came here for peace. Charm lost her life for this quest and that's why we're going to carry on till we succeed. For Charm.”

  “All right,” said Goliath, looking sad and a bit ashamed. “But after we've succeeded, we'll do the war.”

  Limpy decided the time had come to get cross with Goliath.

  Before he could, he felt a hand on his shoulder.

  Limpy looked up. It was Raoul. There was hurt and anger on Raoul's big face. Limpy decided not to waste time with excuses.

  “I'm sorry I escaped,” said Limpy. “And I'm sorry I tried to start a war.”

  Raoul's frown got even deeper.

  Goliath thrust himself between Limpy and Raoul.

  “It wasn't his fault,” said Goliath. “It was me. I rescued him with my highly trained rescue unit. I'm the one you should be crook with.”

  Limpy saw Goliath notice Raoul's muscles. Goliath reached out and gave one of them a little tweak. And felt how hard it was.

  “Not too crook, but,” he said, shrinking back.

  “I'm not just angry with you two,” said Raoul.“I'm angry with Flatface. And with myself for letting him get near you. Two warmongers working together could have been a disaster.”

  “Three,” said Goliath indignantly.

  “I'm sorry, Raoul,” said Limpy. “I shouldn't have tried to blow up the pipeline. I got carried away, but I'm over it now. Me and Goliath and Charm came here to discover your ancient secret of living in peace with humans, and that's what I want to do.”

  Raoul's angry frown turned into a surprised one.

  “Our ancient secret?” he said. He thought for a moment. “I don't think we've got an ancient secret. I've never heard of one.”

  Limpy stared at Raoul, struggling to take this in.

  “The humans in the village,” said Limpy. “They don't kill cane toads, do they? They don't drive over them in vehicles or bash them with cricket bats or blow them up with bike pumps.”

  “No,” said Raoul. “I don't think so.”

  “Why not?” said Limpy.

  “Don't know,” said Raoul. “Never
really thought about it. We've always been more concerned about wasps and snakes and eagles and giant ticks.”

  Limpy felt his warts droop with despair.

  “There is someone who might know,” said Raoul.“We have a wise ancient being among us who knows the secrets of the forest. Secrets of dreams and magic. When he closes his eyes, nothing is hidden from him. He'd probably know.”

  Limpy's mucus wobbled with excitement.

  “Thank you,” said Limpy. “Thank you. Where can we find this wise ancient toad?”

  Raoul looked at Limpy with a rather nervous expression.

  “He's not a toad,” said Raoul. “He's a human.”

  Limpy and Goliath crouched in the ditch at the edge of the human village.

  “Let me get this straight,” said Goliath. “We're not attacking them.”

  “No,” said Limpy.

  “Not even a little bit.”

  “No.”

  Goliath frowned. “But if we're not attacking them,” he said, “how are we going to capture the wise bloke who can tell us the ancient secret?”

  Limpy sighed.

  Goliath's face lit up.

  “I get it,” he said. “We're going in undercover to kidnap him, right? Good plan. What shall we disguise ourselves as? Giant snakes? Bulldozers? Sheep?”

  “Goliath,” said Limpy. “We're not using violence and we're not using trickery. We're just going in there politely, and when we work out which is the wise old man, we'll ask him to tell us the secret.”

  Goliath stared at Limpy.

  “Are you mental?” he said. “Walking into a human village in broad daylight? What if they throw spears at us? Or fire poison darts at us? Or hollow us out and use us as drinking vessels?”

  Part of Limpy felt the same as Goliath.

  Compared to what they were about to do, hanging out in a pit full of snakes didn't seem that scary after all.

  But another part of him was prepared to take the risk.

  For Charm's sake.

  “My poison sacs are empty,” wailed Goliath. “I used them up this morning in a military training exercise. I'm defenseless. What if the humans flatten us to make trays for their TV dinners?”

  Limpy opened his pores and took a deep breath and tried to stop his mucus from trembling.

  “We'll just have to trust they don't,” he said.

  So far, thought Limpy, so good.

  He and Goliath were in the village, and so far not a single spear or dart or scooping-out tool had been aimed at them.

  Only looks.

  Every eye in the village was watching them. Men humans, women humans, kid humans.

  “Keep hopping,” said Limpy.

  He was glad Goliath's poison sacs were empty. When Goliath got scared he tended to squirt first and ask questions later.

  “You should have let me bring backup troops,” muttered Goliath. “Just the sight of a thousand highly trained troops would have had those humans running for their lives.”

  “Goliath,” said Limpy.“Apart from the fact that we're trying to be friendly, I don't think anyone's going to be particularly scared by the sight of a thousand highly trained troops eating each other.”

  Goliath sighed.

  “You're right,” he said. “I'm a hopeless army general. If we get out of this alive, I'm going to give the army away. Try a completely different approach with humans.”

  “That's good,” said Limpy. “I'm glad to hear it.”

  “I'm gunna start a navy,” said Goliath. “Fire missiles at humans from the middle of the swamp.”

  Limpy was about to sigh, but suddenly he needed his breath for something more urgent.

  A gasp of alarm.

  Two human women carrying large pots were coming over, blocking the way. Limpy stopped hopping. So did Goliath. The women bent over them and smiled.

  Goliath hopped behind Limpy.

  “Please,” Goliath whimpered. “Don't put us in those pots. We're mostly gristle and blubber. Let us live and I'll drop the idea of the navy, honest.”

  “Hi there, fellas,” said a voice. “You lost?”

  Limpy wasn't sure who was speaking at first. He knew it couldn't be the women, because he could understand the language. Then he saw a tiny monkey peeking out from the hair of one of the women.

  “If I can help you with anything,” said the monkey, “ask away.”

  “Doesn't that human mind you being in her hair?” said Limpy.

  “I'd watch out if she sees you,” said Goliath to the monkey.“Hairy little tyke like you would make a great toilet brush.”

  “She likes having me here,” said the monkey, chewing happily. “I eat all the insects that get caught in her hair.”

  Limpy stared.

  Perhaps this was a clue.

  Perhaps the secret of living in peace with humans had something to do with being useful.

  “Here to see anyone in particular?”asked the monkey.

  “We've come to see the ancient wise man,” said Limpy.

  “Over there,” said the monkey. “Second hut on the right.”

  “Thanks,” said Limpy.

  While he and Goliath hopped toward the hut, Limpy glanced around at the humans, who were all still watching.

  Most of them were smiling.

  “This is great,” said Limpy. “But it's a bit unusual. I wonder why all these humans are being so friendly. I mean, we're cane toads.”

  “I was wondering that too,” said Goliath. “I think it must be our very special personalities.”

  Inside the hut everything was dark and smoky.

  Limpy could see the shape of the ancient human sitting on the ground.

  “Welcome,” said a voice in a language Limpy understood. “Come in.”

  Limpy and Goliath hopped toward the figure.

  That's good, thought Limpy. The ancient human must have a monkey in his hair too. Perhaps the monkey can help us explain to him why we're here.

  But as they got closer, Limpy saw that the ancient human didn't have a monkey in his hair. He didn't even have any hair—his head was completely bald. And there was no monkey hiding in his clothes, because he wasn't wearing any.

  “What can I do for you?” said the voice.

  Limpy stared.

  The voice was coming from the ancient human's mouth.

  Stack me, thought Limpy. A human's speaking to me and I can understand everything he's saying.

  Goliath was looking amazed too.

  “He must have a monkey halfway down his throat eating cough germs,” he muttered.

  “Don't be alarmed,” said the ancient human. “I speak your language. In ancient times all humans and animals spoke the same language. Then humans developed languages of their own. It was so they could swap recipes without their dinner overhearing and getting nervous.”

  Limpy was impressed. This ancient human really did possess ancient wisdom.

  The old man smiled and winked at them.

  “Have you got something in your eye?” said Goliath. “I've got some mucus here that's really good for getting grit out.”

  “No thanks,” said the ancient human. “I'm fine. But you're obviously not or you wouldn't have come to see me.”

  Limpy opened his mouth to explain their quest, but before he could start he saw something so amazing, so incredible, that the words jammed in his throat.

  Hanging on the wall behind the ancient human was a necklace.

  Charm's necklace.

  Limpy leapt past the old man, snatched the necklace off its hook, and examined it more closely.

  It was identical to the one Aunty Pru had given Charm. Woven from spiderwebs with dried mouse eyes threaded on it.

  Limpy was about to demand to know what Charm's necklace was doing there when he saw something even more amazing and incredible.

  Hanging on other hooks on the wall were other necklaces.

  Exactly the same as the one in his hand.

  Limpy struggled to speak.

&
nbsp; “These … these necklaces. Where did you get them?”

  The ancient human gave a gentle smile. “They're traditional,” he said. “Folks around here have been wearing them since time began.”

  Limpy struggled to take this in.

  “Are there many of them?” he asked.

  “Yes,” said the ancient human. “Everyone's got them. I've got six.”

  Suddenly Limpy's mind was racing.

  The necklace he'd found in the mud.

  Perhaps it wasn't Charm's.

  Perhaps she wasn't dead.

  Limpy saw that the ancient human was watching him, still smiling.

  “The necklace you found was one of mine,” said the ancient human. “I hung it on a bulldozer to try to remind the driver that his ancestors came from this forest.”

  Limpy stared at the ancient human.

  He wanted to shout with joy. He wanted to swing from the roof rafters and beat his chest and yodel with joy.

  Instead he grabbed Goliath.

  “Those necklaces,” Goliath was saying with a frown.“I've seen one of those somewhere before.”

  “Goliath,” said Limpy. “Charm's not dead. The necklace I found in the clearing wasn't hers.”

  Goliath stared at him, the news slowly sinking in.

  “Where is she?” he said.

  “I don't know,” said Limpy.

  He pictured Charm somewhere in the jungle, lost and scared, with monkeys throwing things at her and jaguars stalking her and insects trying to lay eggs under her warts.

  He felt dizzy with worry, and joy, and more worry.

  The ancient human gave another soft smile. “I know where she is,” he said.

  Limpy stared at him.

  “Where?” croaked Limpy. He could hear Goliath croaking it too.

  “You love your sister very much, don't you?” said the ancient human.

  “Yes,” said Limpy. “I do.”

  “So do I,” said Goliath.“That time I put a tickle bug in her bed was just a practical joke.”

  “Twenty-seven tickle bugs, wasn't it?” said the ancient human.

  Goliath stared at him.

  So did Limpy.

  How did he know that?

  “Your sister came to see me this morning,” said the ancient human. “I told her you were both in the jungle and I told her where to find you.”