“There’s a clump of trees over there,” said Tiffany.
“So what?” said Rob. He was staring at the line of nighmares. Things were visible in it now—teeth, claws, eyes, ribs. From the way he was glaring, it was obvious that whatever happened later, the first few monsters were going to face a serious problem. If they had faces, anyway.
“Can you fight nightmares?” said Tiffany. The chittering noise was getting a lot louder.
“There’s no’ a thing we canna fight,” growled Big Yan. “If it’s got a heid, we can gie it a faceful o’ dandruff. If it disna have a heid, it’s due a good kickin’!”
Tiffany stared at the onrushing…things.
“Some of them have got more than one head!” she said.
“It’s oour lucky day, then,” said Daft Wullie.
The pictsies shifted their weight, ready to fight.
“Piper,” said Rob Anybody to William the gonnagle, “play us a lament. We’ll fight to the sound of the mousepipes—”
“No!” said Tiffany. “I’m not standing for this! The way to fight nightmares is to wake up! I am your kelda! This is an order! We’re heading for those trees right now! Do what I say!”
“Weewee man!” yelled Wentworth.
The pictsies glanced at the trees and then at Tiffany.
“Do it!” she yelled, so loudly that some of them flinched. “Right now! Do what I tell you! There’s a better way!”
“Ye canna cross a hag, Rob,” muttered William.
“I’m going to get you home!” snapped Tiffany. I hope, she added to herself. But she’d seen a small, round, pale face staring at them around a tree trunk. There was a drome in those trees.
“Ach, aye, but—” Rob Anybody glanced past Tiffany and added: “Aw no, look at that…”
There was a pale dot in front of the racing line of monstrousness.
Sneebs was making a break for it. His arms pumped like pistons. His little legs seemed to spin. His cheeks were like balloons.
The tide of nightmares rolled over him and kept coming.
Rob sheathed his sword. “Ye heard oour kelda, lads!” he shouted. “Grab her! We’rrre offski!”
Tiffany was lifted up. Feegles raised the unconscious Roland. And everyone ran for the trees.
Tiffany pulled her hand out of her apron pocket and looked at the crumpled wrapper of Jolly Sailor tobacco. It was something to focus on, to remind her of a dream…
People said you could see the sea from the very top of the downs, but Tiffany had stared hard on a fine winter’s day, when the air was clear, and seen nothing but the hazy blue of distance. But the sea on the Jolly Sailor packet was deep blue, with white crests on the waves. It was the sea, for Tiffany.
It had looked like a small drome in the trees. That meant it wasn’t very powerful. She hoped so. She had to hope so….
The trees got closer. So did the ring of nightmares. Some of the sounds were horrible, of cracking bones and crushing rocks and stinging insects and screaming cats, getting nearer and nearer and nearer.
CHAPTER 12
Jolly Sailor
There was sand around her, and white waves crashing, and water draining off the pebble beach and sounding like an old woman sucking a hard mint.
“Crivens! Where are we noo?” said Daft Wullie.
“Aye, and why’re we all lookin’ like yellow mushrooms?” Rob Anybody added.