Otter Chaos! (5 page)

“I like what's inside them,” said Jack.

“Bruno cracks all my clamshells. I've never seen anyone stronger or faster,” boasted Grandma Maple. “But if you're not up to the challenge, then I'm sure we'll understand…”

“I'll crack clamshells if that's what it takes to get you lot out of my den,” Jack agreed reluctantly, and then frowned at his soggy family. “But I think the real challenge will be turning this jelly-bellied bunch into a lean, mean, fighting machine.”

“I would have thought the
real
challenge for you would be getting through the whole thing without cheating,” mumbled Grandpa Bruno.

“What was that?” growled Grandpa Jack.

“Nothing,” trilled Grandma Maple, shooing Grandpa Bruno and the rest of the Browns back to their chambers. All except Mama Brown, who refused to be shooed anywhere and hung back to have a word in private with Mama Black.

“We're not getting mixed up in all of this, are we?” she asked hopefully. Mama Brown had grown quite close to her dark-furred companion after a week of fishing and preparing food together. “It all seems a bit silly to me.”

“Oh, I'm so glad you said that, my dear,” sighed Mama Black, fanning herself with obvious relief. “River races indeed! What a load of old nonsense!”

And the pair scurried off together while Team Brown and Team Black grouped at opposite ends of the lodge to plan a strict regime for the beginning of training.

or Team Black, training meant the whole family rising at dawn and standing to attention in a neat line along the riverbank so Grandpa Jack could yell at them, jogging on the spot like a scary drill sergeant.

“I've never seen such a miserable bunch of water mammals in all my life!” he bellowed, moving down the line, prodding podgy bellies with a bulrush. “Winning this tournament is a matter of honour and family pride, so I will transform you fuzzy-furred blobs into lean, mean athletes, if it's the last thing I do. Now drop and give me twenty!”

The Black family stayed standing and looked at each other in bewilderment. They were unfamiliar with training jargon and had no idea what the grumpy old otter expected them to give him twenty of.

“Press-ups!” he yelled, rolling his eyes. “Twenty press-ups!”

The Blacks obediently dropped to the ground and began a series of swift, shallow press-ups, being short of arm and long in body as otters are. Everyone except the youngest pup, who remained on his hind legs, waving to his friend on the other side of the river.

“SOOTY BLACK!” bellowed Grandpa Jack, jogging over to his grandson, wiggling the bulrush irritably. “Are you with us or would you like to go and join the other team?”

“YES, PLEASE!” said Sooty, who would have liked nothing more than to train with Woody. Then he realised it wasn't really an option and quickly changed his answer. “I mean, NO, SIR!” he yelled, and waved goodbye to his friend before launching into his press-ups.

Woody Brown stopped waving when his friend dropped out of sight, and turned back to the Brown family coaching session, led by Grandpa Bruno, whose approach to training was rather more laid-back.

“Should we wake him up?” whispered Beanie.

“I don't know,” said Woody, frowning at Grandpa Bruno, who was snoring in a duet with Grandma Maple, both holding hands and drifting in circles in the water near the bank. Then he looked at the other members of Team Brown and sighed wearily. “Maybe we should just start packing.”

Nutmeg and Chestnut were rolling around the riverbank, fighting over a clam, while Papa chased after them, trying to split them up
and
nab the clam for himself. Coco was grooming her fur with her back to everyone, refusing to join in because training sounded very unglamorous and, even worse, wet. Though she still found time to tease Beanie, telling her younger sister that she probably shouldn't take part because there was no way she could win.

Mama Brown had got up before everyone else and was nowhere to be seen. This was also true of Mama Black, which at least kept the competition even.

Woody didn't want to train either, especially as he would have to compete against his best friend, Sooty. But he didn't want his family to lose their home, so he tiptoed to the water's edge and prodded Grandpa Bruno with a stick.

The old otter snuffled awake and quickly nudged his wife.

“Where was I?” he frowned, scuttling out of the water and on to a rock. He remembered waking everyone up at sunrise and asking them to join him on the riverbank, but the rest was a bit of a blur.

“You said we all looked tired and needed a pep talk,” said Woody.

“But then you fell asleep and slid into the river,” said Beanie.

“So Grandma went in after you to wake you up,” added Woody, scratching his head as he relayed the events of the last few minutes. “But then she fell asleep too.”

“What are they saying?” asked Grandma Maple, lifting her hearing-shell up to her ear. “Something about poo?”

“Not poo,” said Grandpa Bruno. “
Too!
”

“Two what?” asked Grandma Maple.

The general confusion was interrupted by shouting on the other side of the river where the Black family were being chased up and down the bank with a floppy bulrush. Grandpa Jack was barking insults at them as they ran in a military formation.

“YOU BIG, LAZY LUMPS!”

“GET THOSE FAT KNEES UP!”

“COME ON, WOBBLE-BOTTOM!”

Grandpa Bruno looked back at his ragtag team, made up of squabbling twins, sulking teens and young pups looking utterly lost, and knew he needed to raise their spirits with a few wise words.

“Two
families!” Grandpa Bruno boomed loudly, pulling his shoulders back and standing proud upon the rock. He gestured with one paw to the Blacks, who were now doing synchronised star jumps, and with the other paw to his own untidy brood. “Two families and only one den, so we have a mighty challenge ahead of us!”

The twins stopped fighting for a moment and came closer. Woody held Beanie's paw and Papa Brown stood behind them. Even Coco shuffled round to hear what Grandpa had to say.

The old otter suddenly felt the pressure of younger eyes upon him and cast his mind back to his boxing days for the things that had inspired him then and turned him into a champion…

 

“
Get those fat knees up, you big, lazy lump!” laughed young Jack Black, jogging with his best friend Bruno Brown down the hazy riverbank. The black otter broke away and sprinted ahead, coaxing his companion to catch up with him. “Come on, wobble-bottom!”

Young Bruno could barely run for laughing, but his friend's encouragement made him dig deep for that extra burst of energy, like he always did when they trained together.

The otters were neck and neck as they made it to the arena for their usual sparring practice – and then promptly collapsed into a heap.

It was the morning before the tournament and they were both very excited. But despite his outward confidence, Jack Black didn't always have belief in himself.

“I hope I pass the first round,” said Jack.

“You will,” said Bruno. “We're in the best shape of our careers!”

“But what if I don't get through?” asked Jack.

“All you can do is try your best,” said Bruno, whose style of encouragement was calmer and more thoughtful than his friend's colourful banter. “And know that I'll be cheering you on, whatever happens.”

“You too, my friend,” said Jack.

“Friends forever!” they cheered.

 

Grandpa Bruno felt a paw slip into his and Grandma Maple appeared beside him. He suddenly realised that it was his friend who had inspired him and made him a champion. Jack Black and Bruno Brown had supported each other. But now he had a family and they were looking to him for guidance and support.

“Two families!” he repeated.

“You already said that, you forgetful old goat!” roared a voice from the other side of the river. “Are you encouraging your team or trying to bore them to death?”

“Mind your own business!” growled Bruno, shaking his fist.

Jack blew a raspberry in response and then barked at his team to give him ten squat-thrusts on the double, which they quickly did. Grandpa Jack was secretly pleased with his family, but he kept one eye on his old rival all the same.

Grandpa Bruno saw that he was being spied upon, hopped down from the rock and huddled with his family. “There's only one thing you need to do to win,” he whispered gruffly. “And that's to try your best.”

“And then we'll definitely win?” asked Woody.

“Not necessarily,” said Grandpa, tapping his nose. “But if you've tried your best and played a fair game then, win or lose, you will be able to hold your head up high.”

“And that's particularly true if you no longer have a roof over it,” said Grandma Maple, popping her husband's romantic bubble. “And we won't have a roof over our heads if we don't win.”

“Another good point!” said Bruno, narrowing his eyes. “So to make
sure
you try your best, I'll probably have to bark some pretty unflattering insults at you.”

“HOORAY!” cheered the Browns, who thought Team Black's training looked like enormous fun. So they all put their paws together and pledged to try their best and not take Grandpa's yelling to heart, and they cheered before breaking away.

Team Brown swiftly gathered in a line – far less tidy than Team Black's – and began their training. They now felt very cheerful and were having a brilliant time, with Grandpa shouting about how fat and useless they were, which proved to be all the encouragement they needed.

Each team stayed on their side of the river as the two old boxers, who obviously had a score to settle, put them through their paces. The otters ran and jumped and swam and by the evening Team Brown and Team Black were fighting fit and seemed very evenly matched. They had been so focused on the training and making practical preparations for the river races, that no one noticed they were being watched from two high rocks above.

“Who do you think will win, my dear?” Mama Brown called over to Mama Black on the other side of the river. The pair had been sunbathing all day, tossing clams and mussels to each other and swapping family stories.

“I wouldn't like to say,” said Mama Black, looking back and forth between the banks, comparing the two families. “But I think, as far as teams go, you and I are definitely in the lead.”

“Oh, I quite agree,” said Mama Brown. She squinted at the sunset and realised it was almost dinner time. “Shall we go inside and prepare some food for the troops?”

“Good idea,” replied Mama Black as she brushed broken mussel shells off her rock and into the water. “And I think they will need an extra large feast ahead of their big day tomorrow!”