The Slippery Map by N. E. Bode

Author:N. E. Bode
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2009-10-15T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 12

THE BREATHING RIVER

At first the Breathing River sounded only like breaths, thousands of them, rising like bubbles and sighing on the surface. But as Oyster and Leatherbelly followed the Dogger through the woods, the river grew louder, until it drowned out the collective whine of the Growsels underground. And it sounded like the nunnery at night when Oyster would walk down the hall to the bathroom. Some of the nuns snored with puffs, others with rattles, others still with whinnies. In fact, he almost recognized the wheezy snore of Sister Elouise of the Occasional Cigarette, and then the baritone of Sister Augusta of the Elaborate Belches, and then, just softly, just once, the puff of Sister Mary Many Pockets.

“Do you hear that?” Oyster asked.

“It’s different,” the Dogger said. “It’s never quite sounded like that before—more like snoring, isn’t it?”

“Strange,” Oyster said. “I think I recognize some of those snores.”

The Dogger looked at Oyster for a moment out of the corner of his eye.

“What?” Oyster asked.

“Nothing,” the Dogger said.

Oyster didn’t understand it, but it seemed like his World was here somehow, in those snores. Finally, when the river came into view—a rough, winding, gray river—the noise had risen to a roar. The Growsel stopped at the reedy bank. The Dogger climbed off the back of his Growsel and walked to the edge. He stuck his hand in the water.

Oyster and Leatherbelly hung back, neither wanting to get too close. The Breathing River was fast. Bubbles stirred up and snapped by Oyster’s ears: an angry cough, a few sharp pants, another with a whistle, and a moan. Oyster didn’t like the river. It was rough, churning briskly over large, sharp rocks. He could see three Water Snakes from where he stood.

“I’ve got no boat. Only way’s to swim. You aren’t afraid of snakes, are you?” the Dogger asked with an edge to his tone.

Oyster shook his head. “Nope,” he said, although he’d never seen a snake. They didn’t show up in downtown Baltimore. He didn’t like the looks of the Water Snakes he did see. But he was still trying to fake some kind of confidence, just a little.

The Growsel nosed up behind Leatherbelly, gave a low growl and a snap. Leatherbelly skidded forward and almost fell into the water. The Growsel snapped again, and Leatherbelly had no choice. He plummeted into the river. He paddled madly. Luckily, it turned out that he was very buoyant because of his paunch. He bobbed along more than he swam. The Growsel was next, his hooves spinning.

Oyster stood there. He didn’t want to tell the Dogger he couldn’t swim, but he knew that swimming was something he couldn’t fake. And even if he could swim, what would happen to the Slippery Map if it got wet?

The Dogger walked into the water, pushing his way in with his tough, muscled frame. He looked back over his shoulder. “What are you waiting for?”

Oyster looked upriver and down, hoping for a bridge, but there was none. Then he looked overhead.

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