dull thud to his right. The Captain leapt in the direction of the sound but Whisker stayed rooted to the spot, his tail squirming in the pine needles at his feet.
The onion smell drifted into his nostrils.
‘He’s not there,’ the Captain hissed over his shoulder.
‘I know,’ Whisker said in a petrified voice. ‘He’s standing right behind me.’
The Captain spun around – and abruptly halted. An expression of pure bewilderment ran across his face.
‘You!’ he gasped.
Whisker slowly turned. A scrawny rat stood in the shadows of the trees, his sinewy body draped in a course, fibrous cloak. He was a rat of many years, lean and ragged, but a match for any rat – scissor sword or not. His black eyes sparkled with a familiar intensity, though Whisker was certain he’d never seen him before.
Defensively, Whisker tightened the grip on his weapon and maintained his stance. The rat stared past Whisker to the Captain, a look of recognition filling his eyes. A broad smile grew across his face.
‘Many moons have passed,’ he sighed. ‘Yes, yes. Time has been long.’
‘Not long enough,’ the Captain said through gritted teeth.
The Hermit’s smile quickly vanished. He looked at Whisker with desperate eyes. Whisker took a step backwards, aware this was no ordinary reunion.
The Captain extended his sword and scowled. ‘Ran out of gold, did you, Hermit? Decided to return to the island to finish your failed quest?’
The Hermit’s jaw dropped. His lip trembled.
Whisker turned from the Hermit to the Captain and suddenly it clicked.
‘Return?’ the Hermit gasped. ‘No, no. Hermit could never return. Hermit never left.’
The Hermit
Captain Black Rat had a temper but he wasn’t a fool. The fire died in his eye as quickly as it had sparked.
He lowered his sword and stared, transfixed, at the strange figure in front of him. The Hermit stared back, motionless. Both rats shared the same expression – disbelief.
‘But Rat Bait said …’ the Captain choked.
‘Rat Bait said many things,’ the Hermit murmured. ‘Many stories, many tales, yes, yes. But truth? Hmm …’ He took a deep breath. ‘Hermit remembers stormy afternoon, wild, wild sea. Eel attacked Princess Pie. Hermit tumbled overboard. Princess Pie vanished into storm. Hermit waited months – Hermit waited years. Crew of Princess Pie never returned …’
He pointed to the map canister in Whisker’s belt. ‘Hermit left Forgotten Map for his son.’ He turned back to the Captain. ‘Finally you have come.’
The Captain looked from the Hermit to Whisker, his face a sea of emotions.
‘The map was meant for me?’ he gasped in confusion. ‘My father was here all along … But-but that means everything Rat Bait told us was a lie.’
Whisker searched his mind for clarity, trying to separate truth from treachery. He remembered the night he’d met Rat Bait, the former first mate of the Princess Pie, and recalled the words the old rogue had spoken. One line of Rat Bait’s story suddenly took on a whole new meaning: We lost the c – we lost the cargo and supplies over the side.
At the time, Whisker was fixated on the treasure and thought nothing of Rat Bait’s awkward pause. But now it was obvious. Rat Bait had almost given himself away. The Princess Pie hadn’t lost her cargo, she had lost her captain.
‘We know Rat Bait lied about the key,’ Whisker said quietly. ‘There’s nothing to stop him lying about your father, too.’
The Hermit gave the Captain a pleading stare. The Captain stared back, speechless. His tongue moved, but he didn’t utter a sound.
Whisker could only imagine what was going through his mind. The very rat the Captain had trained himself to hate was standing right in front of him, no longer a monster but an innocent victim of a terrible lie.
After an agonising silence, the Captain slowly extended the handle of his scissor sword to the Hermit, struggling to hold back the tears.
‘A noble captain deserves a sword,’ he quavered, ‘and the loyalty of his family.’
The Hermit took one look at the sword and threw his arms around the Captain.
‘Hermit needs his son,’ he sobbed.
For a moment, the Captain stood rigid, then, with a gush of tears, he dropped his sword and hugged the Hermit tightly. The Hermit pounded the Captain on the back like a giddy school boy celebrating a winning goal. The sobbing soon turned to laughter.
Whisker watched the joyous reunion, unable to look away. Part of him felt like an outsider, but the rest of him longed to know what it felt like to finally have his family back. He’d come to the island with high hopes. The Island of Destiny had already rewritten one future.
The Captain finally broke from the Hermit’s embrace and regained his composure.
‘Whisker,’ he said in a formal voice, ‘may I present to you my father, Ratsputin, noble captain of the Princess Pie and Pie Rat extraordinaire.’
The Hermit extended his paw to Whisker and spoke with oniony breath. ‘Hermit pleased to meet you, master Whisker.’
Whisker shook his rough paw. ‘The pleasure is mine, Captain Ratsputin, sir.’
The Hermit twitched his ears. ‘Captain Ratsputin, no, no. Hermit it is. No captain here, only Hermit, scorpions and owls.’ He waved his arms theatrically above his head. ‘Hermit welcomes you to windy, windy island where wind is always windy.’
‘Nice to, err … be here,’ Whisker replied, wondering if the Hermit had spent a little too long in the sun – or the wind.
The Hermit gave him a long stare and waved his finger in a circle around his ear.
‘Hermit not cuckoo,’ he laughed. ‘Hermit just muddles words. Hermit not used to visitors. Owls and scorpions not friendly neighbours, no, no.’ He lowered his voice and looked around suspiciously. ‘Owls hunt at night. Must hurry. Hermit’s lair this way.’
He took a step into the undergrowth and beckoned for them to follow. The Captain picked up his sword and gave Whisker a reassuring nod. Together, the two Pie Rats followed the Hermit into the darkness of the forest.
The ground rose steadily upwards as the Hermit marched on, leading the rats further from the lagoon. The sandy dirt of the forest floor became rockier and the pine trees turned to mountain shrubs. Moss-covered boulders dotted the dark landscape, heralding the foothills of the mighty twin mountains. The sound of running
