Search for the Sunlight
Chapter 70

The thunderous roar of the great falls and, the nagging cold made the night seem endless. But it was morning now and Basil rose shivering from his sack to replace no fire and no tea. Where was Harry?

He turned to the spot where his friend had set out his kit the night before and, curiously, his lapsack, with all the brewing equipment inside, was packed up and ready to go. Basil was puzzled. Throughout the entire journey, Harry had always been first up. He was there for them every morning with a friendly smile and a breakfast brew. Not once had he let them down, but this morning, he was nowhere to be found.

Basil made his way down stream. He was concerned that something nasty might have abducted his friend in the night and re-arranged his mind such that he didn’t know where he was. As he approached the bend in the river, the sound of weeping returned. Assuming it to be the unhappy creatures they had met the day before, Basil parted the soggy marsh grass for a better look and, to his surprise, sitting alone with his head in his hands, crying like a child, was Harry. Basil rushed to his side.

“Whatever is the matter?” he asked, wrapping a comforting arm around his distraught friend. Harry sniffed and whimpered and as he looked up at Basil, through tear filled eyes, he spoke… “Do you remember I said that I thought this place was like Hell?”

“I do,” Basil replied calmly. “Well it is Hell,” Harry sobbed. “We’ve run out of tea!”

Basil’s jaw almost hit the ground. He gasped. ‘How was it possible?’ he wondered. This was the most dreadful start imaginable, to the singularly most important day of their entire lives.

If they were to have even a dog’s chance of outwitting the evil wordsmiths, they would need to be on the case and, their nutritional wellbeing was a fundamental part of the process. Without tea, it would be a struggle for them just to stay alive.

Shaken to his roots by Harry’s tragic news, Basil helped the young Hawthorn to his feet and, together, the broken friends staggered back to the camp site in silence. On their return, the others were up and about and expecting breakfast…

“Where’s the tea then?” Herbert demanded, clattering his tin mug loutishly with a stick.

“I’m afraid there’s bad news,” Basil replied solemnly. “There’s no tea left!”

Herbert and Sherlock looked at one another in stunned silence.

“Did Basil just say there was no tea left?” Sherlock enquired, his question directed at Herbert. His brain was struggling to process the information that it had just received.

“I think he did,” Herbert replied, turning a whiter shade of pale, taking on the appearance of a Silver Birch more than his native Hawthorn.

“It-it’s just not possible!” he stammered, shaking his head in despair as the shock of Basil’s horrifying announcement hit home.

“We can’t possibly go on without tea,” he ranted. “We might survive for a few days, maybe a week, but after that? It’s dehydration, leaf curl and a slow painful death. We’re doomed!”

“Well we are if we sit around here whinging all day,” the Constable replied, “but we’re not going to do that,” he said, taking firm control of the situation.

“A little less than a year ago, we were chosen, by the hand of fate, to set off on a quest to replace the missing sunlight and save our nation from extinction. Naturally, we embraced the challenge and, in our infinite naivety, we agreed to leave the safety of our homes and our families, and head of blindly, into the unknown.

Along the way, we encountered many dangers, not least the Peckwoods and, on more than one occasion, our lives were at serious risk. But, against all the odds, we’ve survived!

We didn’t come all this way just to give up at the first hurdle. No! Even if it means forfeiting our lives for the future of our species, we must finish what we set out to do. Should we win the final battle and restore the sunlight to the heavens then there will be plenty of tea for us all! But if we loose, tea will be the least of our worries.”

An uncomfortable silence descended on the party as they came to terms with the impossible situation that they were in. Sherlock was right of course. The future of everything; the earth, the forest and the survival of Treewoodkind, depended entirely upon the outcome of the forthcoming confrontation with the evil wordsmiths, and without tea to keep them alive there was nothing left for them to lose. Harry looked at Herbert and then each in turn at the others. “There’s work to be done,” he said. “So let’s get to it!”

With fire in their hearts and a true sense of determination, the warriors packed up their belongings, perhaps for the last time, and marched boldly downstream towards the angry inferno.