Merry Meerkat Madness. Ian Whybrow

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СКАЧАТЬ guard for one moment. That was all it took. The Silent Enemy, the eagle owl, had seized his chance, swooping down, grabbing him in his talons and whooshing him high into the air! That was the terrible time when he had lost his eye, his queen and command of his first mob, the Sharpeyes.

      Fearless gave himself a shake-up that made his fur snap with electric sparks. Pull yourself together, old boy! he told himself. And then he was in command again.

      “Wup-wup! Attention, the Really Mads!” he ordered, dashing about and marking the place as his with some well-aimed and wonderfully whiffy squirts. “The sun is at its height,” he announced. “The babies are tired. You kits are hot and need rest. Leave off foraging, everyone. Take your positions in the shade. Make yourself ready for Recovery Time, what-what! I have a tale to tell.”

      Radiant gave him an adoring look and a lick and gathered the babies under a shrub where they flattened their tummies on to the cool sand. Fearless’s sister, Fragrant, took her place in the deep shadow of the driedoring bush that Broad Shoulders had chosen as his sentry post.

      Uncle made a sign for the kits to move in close to him under the broad leaves of a patch of tsama melons. It was soothing to roll among the firm, cool fruits and to listen to the bees humming drowsily among the yellow flowers. The kits closed their eyes and stretched out, waiting to hear another one of Uncle’s tales about his glory-days.

      “As I was saying,” he murmured, half whispering, “your strange experience reminds me of something I saw long ago with my very own eyes – when I still had both of them to look with, harrrumph! It was in this very Season of Plenty.” He slapped the side of his head with his paw. “D’you know, I do believe it was on this very same suntime! Or was it the suntime after? No matter! The point is, it was soon after the chief of the Click-clicks first brought his tribe to the land of the Sharpeyes, where I was King and Lord of Far Burrow. They were tall and clumsy, but I soon tamed them, what-what!”

      “Hooray!” cried the kits. “Well done, Uncle!”

      “Shhh! Not too loud! You’ll disturb the babies!” chuckled Fearless. A tick on his belly suddenly did what ticks do. Fearless curled up and nibbled at it furiously… “Mmm-nnnyung, you blighter!” …and then went on. “I wandered freely among their flapping pointy mounds. Free as a bee. I had no fear of being trampled, not me, oh no! Fearless by name, and all that! Now, on this particular suntime, they all put on their brightest colours and gathered together for a feast, noisy as hyenas. Then they turned a large bird round and round over a circle of fire and gave each other lumps of it to eat!”

      “Was it a martial eagle?” asked Mimi eagerly.

      “Or an eagle owl?” asked Skeema, thinking of their worst enemy.

      “Serve them right!” Little Dream piped up.

      “Hush! Voices down!” said Uncle, who had no idea. “It was one of those, I expect. And then,” he continued dramatically, “the Click-clicks danced and sang and they covered the tree with bright lights and with shiny creepers, just as you saw the Tick-tocks do.”

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