Otter Chaos! (4 page)

“LOOK!” yelled Woody, spying three small rafts and one big one that the Browns had last seen bobbing downstream in a cloud of angry bees. The rafts were now neatly anchored to the rocks on the riverbank. “Beanie has found all of our stuff!”

The Browns leapt up and hurried over to check that everything was still there, and then noticed another set of similar rafts that obviously belonged to the Black family.

“They must have found them and carried them upstream along with their own,” said Mama Brown, heaving a sigh of relief. “That was awfully kind of them, don't you think?”

“Pirates!” growled Grandpa Bruno. “Those black-hearted black otters are not content with stealing our home, they want to sleep in our bedding and eat our food as well!”

“Oh, I'm sure that's not the case,” said Papa Brown.

“Really?” said Grandpa. “Then where's the entrance to the den?”

The Browns all looked over at Cottonwood Lodge and squinted at the entrance – to find that, while they had been listening to a daring tale of rivalry and deception, the Blacks had swiftly fortified the tunnel entrance with a thick, sturdy door made of woven twigs!

hat old swindler has done it this time!” said Grandpa Bruno, slipping into the water and untying the rafts. “Messing with me is one thing, but messing with my family is quite another! Now, everyone get in the water and start pushing these rafts towards the mooring pad, but don't let any of that lot see you.”

The Browns followed Grandpa's instructions. They slowly edged the rafts across the river and drifted round to the side of the lodge. The Blacks, meanwhile, were all inside, peeping through the gaps in the door, wondering where their rivals had gone.

“I can't see them,” said Mama Black, scanning the river. “They were there one minute and vanished the next.”

“Those mysterious runaway rafts we found have drifted away from the bank,” said Papa Black. “Though I think we know who they belong to now. Luckily, ours are still safe and secure.”

“Never mind their rafts,” said Grandpa Jack, squinting through the mesh of twigs. “You should be looking for that old crook, Bruno Brown. He's bound to be up to something slippery.”

“What happened back when you were boxers, Grandpa?” asked Berry, the only girl among Sooty's five older siblings. The Black family knew all about their grandfather's glory days, but he never spoke of his old partner. “What was it that ended your friendship?”

“Never mind,” said Grandpa Jack. “It's all in the past.”

Jet, Coal, Storm and Shadow were all keen that Grandpa Jack should tell the story too, but young Sooty didn't want to hear anything bad about his friend's grandfather.

“I feel awful for Woody and his family,” said Sooty, hoping to change the subject. “The Browns are no different from us, really. And they have just lost their home.”

The Blacks moved away from their makeshift door. Then Grandpa Jack, who seemed to be having second thoughts, said what everyone else was thinking.

“Bruno Brown may be a grizzled old rogue, but I wouldn't want to see any otters without a den,” he said, patting Sooty's head. “So I hope your friend's family manage to turn their fortunes round and find somewhere to stay very soon.”

“We have already, thanks,” said Grandpa Bruno, standing in the central chamber with a ratty roll of bedding and an armful of food stores.

Behind him, the rest of the Browns all bundled in through the rear tunnel, laden with their stuff. Mama and Papa had swiftly unpacked the rafts on to the mooring pad and everyone had loaded up with whatever they could carry. Now both families were back inside the den, but only one of them had their belongings with them.

“I knew you'd be up to something sneaky,” growled Jack.

“Well, you'd know all about that, wouldn't you?” said Bruno, pointing to the twiggy fortification over the entrance. “Don't let the door bash your bottom on your way out!”

“We're not going anywhere!” growled Jack.

“You'll have to get your stuff sooner or later,” said Bruno, and he hurried off with his family to fill the chambers with their things and claim them for the Browns.

The rest of the day saw the Black family running relays between the riverbank and the mooring pad, hopping over the stepping stones with their own supplies and bedding.

Then, while the Browns were occupied with dismantling the entrance door, the Blacks set about removing the Browns' belongings from half of the chambers and bringing in their own.

By the evening, both the Blacks and the Browns had moved in and taken four of the eight chambers each. The two families were determined to stay put and try to force the other out. The youngsters dug holes in the other pups' sleeping chambers, causing little leaks and soggy moss, and chanted rhymes about babies and bed-wetting.

There were also midnight plans of action, where a family's belongings – and sometimes its deep-sleeping members – were carried out of the den, placed on rafts and marooned on the riverbank. And for a whole week afterwards, everyone went about during the day being as loud and annoying as possible, which led to lots of snorts and squabbles and many squeals of otter frustration.

The only opposing otters that remained civil to each other were Mama Brown and Mama Black, who sat back and rolled their eyes at their families' escalating antics, and young Woody and Sooty, who were sad to see their siblings and elders at war with each other.

“I'm sorry for the way my family are behaving,” said Woody as Nutmeg and Chestnut crept past with a rotten eel and threw it into an enemy chamber. “I don't know what's got into them.”

“My family are just as bad,” said Sooty as Storm and Shadow shot out after the twins, covered in eel slime and hurling mud balls. “I think everyone could be friends if they would only get to know each other.”

“I can't see that happening any time soon,” sighed Woody.

“Me neither,” sighed Sooty. “Everyone's gone bonkers.”

The bad feeling reached its peak when both families decided to wash their paws in the same place at the same time. The indoor pool had brown and black otters all round it and, after much jostling and elbow-shoving, all eighteen of them ended up in the water, splashing so hard that the tranquil surface turned into a frothing, foaming whirlpool!

“ENOUGH!” growled Grandpa Bruno, standing up amid a churning broth of white water and otters. “We cannot live together under one roof, so one family must leave!”

“Excellent idea,” said Grandpa Jack. “Off you go then.”

“Actually, I propose a tournament!” said Grandpa Bruno, ignoring his rival's comment as he threw down the challenge. “It's the only fair way to decide who should get to stay and who will have to leave.”

Everyone stopped splashing and looked up at the two elderly otters, curious about what was being proposed. Did the grizzled old-timers really plan to turn the clock back to the night of the super heavyweight finals, all those years ago? And if it was a boxing tournament, did that mean they would all have to slug it out in the ring?

“I'll have no fighting!” warned Grandma Maple at the sight of Grandpa Bruno and Grandpa Jack glaring at each other like rival boxers at a weigh-in, eyes narrowed and whiskers bristling as they tried to stare each other out. “You'll have to think of something else you're both good at – apart from being stubborn, that is.”

“We should all be able to get involved,” said Grandpa Bruno, scratching his chin. “We have equal numbers, but different ages and abilities, so it should be something where everyone is well matched.”

“Me and Sooty like making underwater obstacle courses,” Woody said eagerly, grinning at his friend. “We're both really well matched at that.”

“Good,” said Grandpa Bruno. “Anyone else?”

“Us two are brilliant at volleyball!” said Storm, high-fiving Shadow as they glanced around for a pair of likely challengers from the Brown family. “If any of you think you can take us on, that is.”

“Bring it on!” said the twins, Chestnut and Nutmeg, teaming up for the first time ever.

“That's the spirit,” said Grandpa Bruno, grinning broadly. “We'll have our very own river races to decide who gets to stay in Cottonwood Lodge, and everyone can compete in a different event.”

“There's a mudslide out back,” chirped Jet, jumping up, landing on the edge of the pool and assuming a surfing pose. The young otter had his fur stuck up in a Mohawk style with beeswax and considered himself pretty cool. “I've been getting good at that over the last week if anyone wants to challenge me?”

“Ooooh, I'll take you up on that!”

said Grandma Maple, clapping her paws together excitedly. “I was quite partial to a nice mudslide in my heyday.”

“Huh?” said Jet, who didn't know what a heyday was, but had been expecting someone younger and a lot less female. “I have to compete with an old granny?”

“Unless you're chicken?” said Grandma Maple, pursing her lips and flapping her paws at her sides like wings. “Cluck-cluck, cluck-cluck!” she mocked, bobbing up and down.

“I'm no chicken!” squeaked Jet.

“Then that's decided,” smiled Grandpa Bruno. “And I'm sure there will be events that we can all pair up and compete in. Everyone's good at something.”

“Beanie's not good at anything,” scoffed Coco.

“Except eating,” added Nutmeg.

“And having an enormous tail,” chuckled Chestnut.

“Leave her alone,” said Woody. “Beanie's good at lots of things.”

“I can hold my breath for quite a long time,” Beanie whispered, and then disappeared under the water to prove it. Everyone waited patiently until she reappeared four minutes later, looking very pleased with herself.

“I can do that!” said Coal, waving at Beanie from across the pool.

“These party games all sound very jolly,” growled Grandpa Jack, folding his arms and snorting through his nostrils, “but what about proper athletes like me? What am I supposed to do if I can't punch anything?”

“I didn't say you can't punch any
thing
,” said Grandma Maple. “I would just prefer it if you didn't punch any
one,
like my husband. How do you feel about clamshells?”