Beyond the Deepwoods by Paul Stewart, Chris Riddell Page B

the sticky honeycombs of the gyle goblin colony.
    Perhaps this is where he belonged, with the lonely old banderbear in the endless Deepwoods, wandering from meal to meal, sleeping in the soft, safe, secret places thatonly banderbears know. Always on the move, never staying in one place for long, and never following a path.
    Sometimes, when the moon rose above the ironwood pines, the banderbear would stop and sniff the air, its small ears fluttering and its eyes half closed. Then it would take a deep breath and let out a forlorn yodelling call into the night air.
    From far, far away, there would come a reply: another solitary banderbear calling back across the vastness of the Deepwoods. Perhaps one day they would stumble across each other. Perhaps not. That was the sorrow in their song. It was a sorrow Twig understood.
    ‘Banderbear?’ he said, one sweltering afternoon.
    ‘Wuh?’ the banderbear replied, and Twig felt a giant paw on his shoulder, powerful yet gentle.
    ‘Why do we never meet the banderbears you call to at night?’ he asked.
    The banderbear shrugged. That was simply the way it was. It reached up and picked a green star-shaped fruit from a tree. It prodded it, sniffed it – and growled.
    ‘No good?’ said Twig.
    The banderbear shook its head, split the fruit open with a claw and let it drop to the ground. Twig looked round.
    ‘What about them?’ he said, pointing up to a small round yellow fruit dangling far above his head.
    The banderbear stretched up and pulled off a bunch. Sniffing all the while, it turned the fruit over and over in its massive paws. Then it gently removed an individual fruit from the bunch, nicked the skin with its claw and sniffed again. Finally, it touched the bead of syrupagainst the tip of its long black tongue and smacked its lips. ‘Wuh-wuh,’ it said at last, and handed the whole bunch over.
    ‘Wonderful,’ Twig slurped. How lucky he was to have the banderbear to show him what he could and couldn't eat. He pointed to himself, then to the banderbear. ‘Friends,’ he said.
    The banderbear pointed to himself, and then to Twig. ‘Wuh,’ he said.
    Twig smiled. High above him but low in the sky, the sun sank, and the light in the forest turned from lemon yellow to a rich golden glow, that poured through the leaves like warm syrup. He yawned. ‘I'm tired,’ he said.
    ‘Wuh?’ said the banderbear.
    Twig pressed his hands together and rested the side of his head against them. ‘Sleep,’ he said.
    The banderbear nodded. ‘Wuh. Wuh-wuh,’ it said.
    As they set off, Twig smiled to himself. When they had first met, the banderbear's snoring had kept him awake. Now, he would have found it hard to fall asleep without the comforting rumble beside him.
    They continued walking, with Twig following the path that the banderbear made through the dense undergrowth. Passing a spiky blue-green bush, Twig reached out absentmindedly and picked a couple of the pearly white berries that grew in clusters at the base of each spike. He popped one of them into his mouth.
    ‘Are we nearly there?’ he asked.
    The banderbear turned. ‘Wuh?’ it said. Suddenly its wide eyes grew narrow and its wispy ears began to flap.‘WUUUH!’ it roared, and made a lunge at the boy.
    What was the matter now? Had the banderbear gone crazy again?
    Twig turned on his heels and leaped out of the way of the massive beast as it hurtled towards him. It could crush him without even meaning to. The banderbear crashed to the ground, flattening the vegetation. ‘WUH!’ it roared again, and swung at him savagely.
    The blow caught Twig on the arm. It sent him spinning round. His hand opened and the pearly berry flew off into the undergrowth. Twig landed on the ground with a bump. He looked up. The banderbear was towering above him menacingly. Twig went to scream. As he did so, the other berry – the one in his mouth – slid back and lodged itself in the back of his throat. And there it remained.
    Twig coughed and