right across yet.”
Tom and Emily took off together, and flew right over and around the loch to check before landing on their usual bit of bank. There was open water in the middle of the loch, but quite a wide area all round the edge was frozen. The otters came shooting up to the edge of the ice, climbed up and lolloped across to join them, sliding to a stop as they hit the bank.
“Ye’ll no fall through on this bit,” said Wattie. “Tek a run and slide on yer belly. Like this, ken.” He demonstrated, sliding fast towards the edge and dropping into the water head first. He reappeared in seconds. “Hae a shot! S’great!” he called, climbing out again.
“If ye dinnae want tae fall in, dig yer claws in tae stop yersel’,” advised Lottie, seeing Emily hesitate. Tom was already climbing onto the ice and preparing to run. He got speed up, then slid fast on his tummy, tail and wings held high, talons stretched sideways. As he got close to the open water, he obviously started to panic, dug his talons into the ice, spun round in a circle, skidded sideways and then disappeared over the edge in a tangle of wings and tail. Emily watched open-mouthed, wondering whether to rush to the rescue, but before she could move, Tom’s head appeared and he climbed out, dripping and looking rather stunned. Wattie was rolling over and over, laughing. Emily decided that she was not going to bother with this particular game!
“It’s safer roond the bay,” Lottie said. “No sae guid fer slidin’ fast like, ‘cos o’ the reeds, but it’s no’ bad. C’m on.”
She led the way along the bank, past a thicket of bulrushes, until they came to the shore of the bay. Wattie and Tom ran along the ice by the shore and joined them. In the centre of the bay, a broad path of flattened reeds showed where the young otters had been sliding before the ice thickened on the main loch. Emily decided this was safe enough, and was soon skating along as happily as the others, adding twirls to her performance, while Tom just worked at sliding faster and faster, trying to beat the otters. There was plenty of room in the bay, without venturing near the open water.
Presently there was a flurry in the water, and the twins’ dad heaved himself onto the ice and slid towards them. “Aye, freezin’ grand!” he said, when he’d got his breath back. “Ah mind a braw wee game we played when Ah wiz a cub. Ah wilnae’ be a minute.” He disappeared behind the bulrushes, and reappeared a moment later with a sizeable flat pebble clutched in one paw. He placed it in the middle of a smooth patch of ice and they all gathered round gazing at it.
“Richt, this is the Stane and ye’ve all got tails! This is wha’ ye dae! Oot th’ way...” He took a wide swipe with his powerful tail, and the stane skittered away over the ice. “Richt, aefter it!” The four of them ran, slipping and sliding, towards the stane. Lottie reached it first, swiped it with her tail towards Tom, who missed it. Emily, who was nearest, swung her tail as hard as she could and the stane shot across the ice towards open water. Wattie caught it before it fell in, and sent it shooting back.
Soon all five of them were passing the stane between them, slipping and sliding, rolling over, shoving each other out of the way. They were shouting and laughing so loudly that nobody noticed Duncan, standing on the bank, watching in amazement. Tom was the first to spot him.
“Hi, Dad!” he yelled. “Come and play. This is great!” He swiped the stane furiously and fell over. Wattie sent it shooting into the reeds and the three otters disappeared after it. Emily and Tom slid towards their dad.
“I finished the rook hunt and came for a quick dip to get rid of the feathers,” Duncan was saying as the otters trotted over, dribbling the stane between them as they came. It was true – he did have rather a lot of tattered black feathers clinging to his scales and spikes.
“Comin’ tae join us, like? If thiz three o’ ye, we can play otters v. dragons. This is how ye dae it, ken.” He demonstrated the side-swipe of the tail and the young otters galloped off to retrieve the stane. Duncan looked tempted.
“Right. You’re on. Come on, you two!”
Soon there was a furious game in progress, the stane flying to and fro, getting caught in the reeds and once disappearing into the water, until the twins’ dad dived in and retrieved it. They stopped for a breather, and had just changed sides, when the twins’ mother appeared from the loch edge and came to join them. “Yez niver said ye wuz playin’ on the ice!” she said indignantly, demonstrating a powerful and accurate tail-swipe.
“Not fair, four against three!” Tom protested, realising that this new player was particularly skilled.
“We need Mum,” said Emily. “Shall I fly up and get her?”
“No need,” said Duncan, pointing upwards, and they all saw Gwen gliding down to the bank, carrying Lily.
“Whatever are you doing? I could hear you right up the hill!”
“Come on, Mum – we need you. This is what you do...” Emily demonstrated.
“What about Lily?”
“She can sit here and watch, can’t you, Lily?” said Duncan, skating fast over the ice with a shrieking Lily on his back, and placing her gently on a flat rock in a thicket of reeds.
“No!” said Lily. “’gen!” She held up her wings for another slide. Her father sighed. “One more, then you stay here and watch the game,” he said, noticing that Gwen was having a Tail-Stane lesson on the opposite side of the ice.
With eight long tails swiping wildly, the area of ice in the bay seemed smaller, and there were a lot more collisions. Lily began by dancing and huffing in excitement but then she got bored and sat hunched up, looking grumpy. When Emily saw her wrap her wings over her eyes, she sighed and pointed. “Lily’s in a huff,” she said. Lily saw her looking, and shuffled round until her back was to them. Gwen sighed.
“Pity! I was just getting the hang of it,” she said. “I suppose I’d better take her back. You two must be hungry – and Duncan, you’re still covered in feathers!”
“See yez later, aye?” Wattie said.
“It’ll be better when the loch’s frozen richt o’er, though it meks the fishin’ tricky,” said the twins’ dad.
“We’ll likely head off tae the big river fer a while,” added his wife. “Thiz always something ye c’n find tae eat in a river, even if it’s no’ as guid as oor fish. We’ll be back when thiz a thaw, mind. This’s a braw loch, ken. We dinnae want ither otters findin’ it.”
Lottie saw Emily and Tom looking downcast. “Dinnae fash, we’ll no’ be goin’ yet,” she said. “See yez the morn, richt?”
“Right!” said Emily, and she and Tom prepared to fly home. Duncan had dived into the loch, saying he would be back at the cave soon after them.
“Even the otters are leaving,” said Emily sadly as they flew up the hill.
“Ollie would have loved that Tail-Stane game. Des too.”
“And Alice! She’d have been really good on our team. I wish they were still here.”
“It’s not fair!” said Tom. “Why can’t we go somewhere new like all the others? There’ll be no one to have fun with until the spring.”
Gwen
