The Same Game Again

Part One. Friday on the Hill

Last time, a puppy ran away to jump at the moon, and a cat carried a note that said Tonight.

On Friday evening, on a hill in the gods' world, everybody was waiting.

Alex and Felix told us what it was like. The two moons were already coming up, one behind the other, much too big and close. The grass was silver at the tips. All the gods were standing on the top of the hill in a long half-circle, in their furs and cloaks, not talking. Odin had Thought and Memory on his shoulders. Frigg had her hands folded. Skadi stood a little apart, with her bow on the ground. Bragi had his harp, but he was not playing it, which was how everybody knew it was serious.

Tyr stood at the front, with Alex on one side of him and Felix on the other.

"Are you frightened?" said Felix.

"I am," said Tyr. "Are you?"

"A bit," said Alex. "But it's all right to be."

"I am beginning to think," said Tyr, "that it is."

Willow sat in front of them, on the very top of the hill, where the grass was thinnest. She was looking at the air. There was nothing in it. But a long way off, just in front of her nose, it looked a little thick, like the air above a hot road. It shimmered a bit. It was silver, if you looked at it from the side.

In Alex's pocket, the golden key was warm. In Felix's pocket, so was the other.

Part Two. The Run to Gobbler Hill

On the same Friday evening, at the school, we ran.

We had not planned it. We had been so busy all day: Hel kept going paler with worry, and Dot kept holding her hand, and Mister Harris kept saying he was sure it was fine, and nobody believed him. We had looked for the puppy all day. We had looked in the lane, and the bins, and the car park, and under Mister Thor's van, which ate the hedge. He had gone to the top of Gobbler Hill at dawn, and he would not come down. When we had gone up the hill at lunchtime, he had run away from us, on his big shaggy legs, barking, and bounded off to the next peak and started jumping again.

At five o'clock, the moon lifted herself off the school roof, a little at a time, like somebody getting out of a very deep armchair, and began to climb.

She went up behind the hill, pale and slow and enormous, as round as a wheel. It was full. It was the biggest thing any of us had ever seen. And the puppy on the very top of the hill, with the whole of the sky behind him, was a tiny, shaggy, dark shape with his legs going like a windmill.

"Now," said Mister Harris. He had his clipboard under his arm, and he looked pale, but his voice was steady. "Everybody, with me. Stay in your pairs. Mister Hanu, in front, please. Mister Thor, at the back. And nobody is to go ahead without a grown-up."

"Technically," said Maya, "I said nobody was to play anything on Gobbler Hill."

"We are not playing," said Mister Harris. "We are rescuing."

"Not yet," said Kenji, under his breath. And then, kindly, "With help, Mister Harris?"

"Very much with help," said Mister Harris. "Come on."

Part Three. Everybody Who Could Come

We went up Gobbler Hill in a long, strung-out line.

Mister Hanu went first, in his orange tracksuit, with his ponytail swinging and his tiny silver whistle in his mouth. Mister Harris was just behind him, with Dot on one side and Hel on the other, each holding a hand. Then Maya, with her notebook, and Kenji with a very large torch, and Ollie with a sandwich in case, and the rest of the class in twos.

Mister Loki came behind them, with a pale face, and a gold thread trailing out of his sleeve all the way up the hill, and a long scarf that he kept pulling round himself, as though he was cold. Missus Ibbs came last of all but one, standing on her one leg on a little cart that Mister Heston had built that afternoon, with the big old Record on her lap and her reed pen in her hand. The cart went by itself. It was powered by a small golden helper, who was working extremely hard.

"I never go anywhere," said Missus Ibbs, "without the Record." She was holding on tightly. "Not on the night it is sealed."

At the back, Mister Janus came, walking carefully, with a hand on each side of his hip, as if the floor were made of eggshells. Both faces were pale. Both were looking at the sky. He was holding the clock, with all he had.

"Ten more minutes," whispered the quiet face.

"I can do ten more minutes," said the bright face. "Probably."

And somewhere in the middle, Mister Thor stepped very carefully, so as not to make a boom. A small cloud, about the size of a hat, followed him up the hill, and he kept pushing it gently away.

Part Four. The Wolf on the Hilltop

He was at the very top.

We saw him from about halfway up. It was nearly dark. The sky behind was a deep purple, and in front of it, big, white and round, was the moon, with a thin silver glow all round it. The puppy stood on the highest point of the hill, as small as a pencil against it, and every few seconds, he gathered himself, and jumped.

He was not high. But every time, he went a little higher. His tail was a blur. And every time he came down, he gave one short, happy bark, as though he was saying Nearly!

"Fenris," said Hel.

She had let go of Dot's hand. She went forward by herself, up the last bit of the hill, and stood in front of him, a small girl in a grey dress, with her pale face and her pink face turned up.

"Fenris," she said. "Come down."

He looked at her. His whole body wagged. He barked, and jumped again.

"It's not a game," said Hel. "Please. It's a person."

He did not hear. He could not. He had one thing in his head, and it was round, and silver, and close.

"He can't stop," said Kenji. "He's too excited!"

"Sandwich!" said Ollie. He held it up. The puppy gave it a quick look, the sort you give to someone who is trying to sell you something, and jumped.

"A bone," said Mister Loki. He turned his own sleeve into a very large one. The puppy sniffed it, politely, and jumped.

Mister Hanu, who once tried to eat the sun himself, watched with deep sympathy. "I know exactly how he feels," he said.

Above them, in the sky, Mama Quilla gave a small squeak. "Oh, dear," she said. "Oh, my goodness. He's close."

Part Five. The Thin Place

Up on the other hill, Felix saw it first.

The air in front of Willow's nose had begun to shiver. Then it brightened. Then, all at once, like a curtain being pulled back, it opened, and they were looking through a window as big as a barn door, with a thin silver edge all round it, and on the other side of the window was another hill.

It was a rounder, greener hill, in the dusk, with a hedge running up one side. There were a lot of tiny people on it. One of them was holding a big torch. They were all looking up, at something at the top.

In Alex's pocket, the golden key had gone hot. He took it out. The two teeth were pointing straight at the window, and glowing, like a firefly in a jar.

"It likes the door," said Alex. "It's found one."

"And it's Gobbler Hill!" he said.

"It's our hill," said Felix. "We can see it! It's the same shape. Where the two hills match..."

"They touch," said Alex. "It's even better than the bump. It's a real hill."

"Maya's going to be furious," said Felix. "She said nobody was allowed to play anything on a hill."

The gods behind them gave a long, low oh. It was the sound of fifty very large people trying not to say anything at once.

And at the top of the other hill, a tiny grey shape had stopped jumping, and turned, and stood quite still in the middle of the air. A puppy was looking through the window. And on the other side of it, a tall bearded man with a wooden hand was looking back.

Part Six. A Bad First Try

It went wrong immediately.

"Fenris," said Tyr. He had stepped up to the silver edge, and stood, tall, with his shoulders back. He said it in his best voice, his oath voice, the one that made the grass go quiet. "Fenris, son of Loki. I, Tyr, god of the exact word, call you to listen."

The puppy's ears went up.

"I have a promise to make," said Tyr. "And a thing to ask. By the sun and the moon, and the nine worlds, and..."

The puppy turned his back.

He did it quite slowly. He put his tail between his legs. He turned right round on the top of the hill, so that all that could be seen of him was a shaggy grey rump and an unhappy set of ears, and he looked the other way, at the moon. He did not even look over his shoulder.

"He's not listening," whispered Frigg.

"He doesn't want to," said Skadi, who had taken a step forward. "He remembers."

"It is no good," said Tyr. His voice cracked. "I have not got the words. All I have are exact ones, and he has heard them before. I do not know how else to say it."

Odin lifted the ribbon, very slowly, out of the fold of his cloak. It trailed in the grass, long and pale. "Tyr..." he said, gently.

"Not yet," said Alex.

Part Seven. Say It Like a Friend

"Not yet," said Alex again, louder. He had stepped in front of the old god. He was only the size of a stool, but he had gone quite red and straight, and he was holding up both hands. "You can't do it with the oath voice. That's the one he knows."

"What other voice is there?" said Odin.

"The voice you use for a friend," said Alex. "Mister Hanu once forgot who he was. We tried to tell him with a list. It didn't work. Then we said it like a friend, and he remembered."

"It's what you say," said Felix, "when you've done something wrong. You don't say it like a speech."

"You just say it," said Alex.

"Plain," said Felix. "And you say sorry first."

Tyr looked down at the two small boys on either side of him. He looked at the old god, and the ribbon, and the long half-circle of the gods, who were not breathing. He looked at the back of a puppy, on the far side of the silver.

And then, very slowly, he did the bravest thing any of them had ever seen a god do. He took off his big cloak, and put it on the grass. He took off his gold arm-ring. And he got down on his knees, in front of the window, until his face was exactly as high as the puppy's, and put his hands in front of him on the ground, the good one and the wooden one, with the palms open.

"Fenris," he said.

It was not his oath voice. It was quiet, and a bit shaky. It was the way you speak to somebody you love and are scared of. "It's Tyr. I am so sorry."

Part Eight. What Tyr Said

The puppy's ears went flat. But they were turned back, towards the voice.

"I lied to you," said Tyr. "A long time ago. I put my hand in your mouth, and I told you it was a game, and I said we would let you go. And I knew we might not. I said it because I was told to, and because I was afraid, and because I thought that was what a god was for. It was the worst thing I ever did. It was not your fault that you bit. I'm sorry for the trick. I am sorry I walked away. I am sorry I have not been to see you."

The grass was still. Somewhere, Bragi's harp gave a tiny, faint, shaking twang.

"I have three things to tell you," said Tyr, "and every one is true. I have checked them. I am the god of exact words, and I do not say a thing unless I am sure."

The puppy had turned his head. One eye was showing, and it was very large and dark.

"The first. I will never again ask you to put on a ribbon without telling you what it is for. Never. And if you do not want it, then you will not have it.

"The second. I will visit you. Every week. Not as a god. As a friend. I'll bring you something to eat. It will be a large thing.

"And the third." His voice cracked, and he stopped. He put out his wooden hand, palm up, through the silver edge of the window. "The third is only a thing I ask. Not an order. There's a lady in the sky. She is called Quilla, and she is a person, and she is frightened of you. She would like to be friends. But she doesn't like to be eaten. Would you leave her be? And the little cold moon, as well?"

Part Nine. The Hand

For a long time, nothing moved.

All across the hill, we waited. On the top of Gobbler Hill, the whole school was holding its breath, with a sandwich in its hand. On the gods' hill, fifty gods stood without saying a word. The moon hung over both. Everyone had stopped.

Slowly, the puppy turned all the way round.

He crept forward on his big, soft paws, with his belly low. He sniffed the air. He got close to the silver edge. And then he sniffed Tyr's wooden hand, from the end of his nose, one long, slow sniff, from the fingers right up to the wrist.

He licked it.

It was very quick. And then, as if he had only just been allowed, he did it again, and again, and then he put his whole great head into Tyr's lap, through the window, and shut his eyes.

"Oh," said Tyr. He had begun to cry. "Oh, you silly wolf. You silly, silly wolf."

On the hill behind us, Hel gave a small sob, and Mister Loki dropped his scarf. Dot was jumping up and down, and hugging Mister Harris, who had gone quite wet in the face and was saying, "Well, well, well," over and over, to nobody. Kenji's torch went out. In the sky, Mama Quilla gave a great, shaky, silver sob.

And Hel, standing at the top of Gobbler Hill with her pink face and her pale face, said in a clear voice, so that everybody could hear, "He says yes. He says he won't eat the moon. He says he only wanted to play."

Part Ten. No Ribbon

"Odin," said Tyr. "I won't tie him."

"No," said the old god, slowly. "I do not think you shall."

He held up the ribbon. It was long, and very light, and it shone in the moonlight. He looked at it for a long time.

"I am an old god," he said. "I have made many plans. I have not made many that I was proud of. It is..." He cleared his throat. "It is rather a surprise to be told, by two very small people from a school, that the best way to deal with a problem is to ask."

"It's not a surprise," said Felix, kindly. "It's just something nobody's done yet."

"Yes," said Odin. "That is exactly what I meant." And he did something surprising. He walked to the nearest tree, and hung the ribbon on a branch, where it fluttered, thin and pale, in the evening breeze. "There. If it is wanted, it will be there. But it is not wanted."

"Thank you," said Alex.

"Thank you," said Odin, and he bowed to them both, a long, deep bow, with his hat in his hand.

Skadi, behind him, gave a loud, wet sniff, and said that she was not crying, it was the wind, and Mister Loki, on the other side of the silver, said that he'd heard that one before.

Part Eleven. Quilla Says It

"It's time," said the moon.

It was the first thing she had said all night, and her voice was so soft that we nearly missed it. She was so full, and so round, and so near to both of the hills, that she looked as if she had been poured. Every silver edge in the sky was bright, and shaking.

"I'm at the top of the sky," she said. "I am full. I can see both of you. I can see all your faces. I'm so very glad to see you." A silver tear ran down her cheek, and fell, and landed on the side of the hill. "I will say it in one minute. Please be ready."

"Now we do it on purpose," said Mister Janus, very quietly, from the back. It was the first time he had smiled all week. "Both sides. All at once. Exactly as it ought to be."

"Places!" said Maya, in her most efficient voice.

On Gobbler Hill, Hel climbed up the very top and stood with her back turned, in her grey dress, with her hands behind her. She was so straight and so calm that it nearly made us cry.

On the top of the gods' hill, Felix walked out to the middle of the grass, and turned round, with his arms behind him, and his chin up. He was standing exactly where she was standing.

Alex got down on his hands and knees in the long grass, in the place where the puppy had crept. Across the silver, on Gobbler Hill, the great shaggy puppy crouched, and put his belly to the ground.

"WHAT'S THE TIME, MISTER WOLF?" said Alex, loudly, in his best voice, to the back of his brother. And on the other hill, so did the whole school.

Part Twelve. Same Breath

It is hard to explain what it was like.

There were two hills, and they were different. One was grassy, and green, and had a hedge. One was silver, with a golden hall and a tree. They were so close that the sky was a single thing, with one moon at the top, a big, very kind moon, that was watching them both.

Two children stood with their backs to two other children. Two creepers crouched in the grass. They were so still that you could have heard a daisy opening.

"What's the time, Mister Wolf?" said everyone, quietly.

"Ten past nine," said Felix.

"Ten past nine," said Hel, in the same moment, on the other hill. They were not saying it to each other. But their voices were exactly together, like two sides of a zip.

Alex took nine tiny steps. The wolf took nine tiny steps. They both held their breath.

"WHAT'S THE TIME, MISTER WOLF?"

"Fish-finger o'clock," said Felix, and Hel, in the very same breath, said: "Fish-finger o'clock," in a perfectly serious voice, and Dot gave a snort, and was told to shush by about ten people.

"Fish-finger o'clock," said Mama Quilla, sadly, in the sky. "Oh, I can smell both from here. Stone and woodsmoke, and fish fingers. I'm in between, and I can see all of you. I know where I am!"

"Moon," said Maya, in a whisper, "please. Please."

"Oh, yes," said the moon. She took a deep breath, and lifted her round face, and said, in the biggest voice that any of us had ever heard, from one end of the world to the other:

"NOW!"

Part Thirteen. Dinner Time

"DINNER TIME!" shouted Felix.

He spun round on the top of the gods' hill, with his arms flung out and his whole face lit up.

"DINNER TIME!" shouted Hel, on the other hill, in the very same breath, like an echo that came before the sound.

Alex leapt up. The wolf leapt up. Mister Thor said, "Oh!" in a surprised voice, and there was a small, round, friendly boom, like a big drum, and a tiny cloud went off over the school, and nobody minded at all.

And the whole world went silver.

Part Fourteen. Home

It was a very small pop.

We were all standing on Gobbler Hill with our eyes shut. When we opened them, the moon was shining on the top of the hill, bright as a new coin. There was no window. There was no silver edge. There was just a hillside, and the dark, and the wind.

And, at the very top, in the long grass, two small boys with their arms flung out.

"DINNER TIME!" said Alex, a bit too late, and fell over.

Nobody said anything for about one second. Then Dot gave the loudest scream that anyone has ever heard in the whole of the world, and ran at them. Ollie came next, then Kenji, then Maya, who dropped her notebook, and we all landed on the top of Gobbler Hill in a big heap, in the moonlight, with Alex at the bottom, and Felix on the top, and Willow, who had arrived in the middle of it, calm, sitting on Alex's chest like a small spotted paperweight.

"You've got grass on you," said Maya, crying.

"We've been on a hill," said Felix, muffled.

"You ate," said Ollie, accusingly. "You smell of gravy."

"There was a boar," said Alex. "I'm sorry. It was good."

Part Fifteen. The Window

The window was still there.

It had only moved. When we sat up, Mister Janus was standing a little way off, with his arms stretched out in front of him, and a very strange look on both faces. A long, thin, silver edge floated in the air in front of him, no bigger than a door.

Through it, we could see the gods' hill. And on it, standing together in a bunch, a girl in a grey dress, and a large grey puppy, and a tall man, with his hand on the wolf's head. They were looking back at us, through the window, as people look back through a car's rear window.

"We did it," said Hel. She said it simply. She did not smile, but her whole face was shining.

"It's brilliant," said Dot.

"The chair is very good, Alex," said Hel. "I should like to tell you, in person. It has been a long time since anybody sat on it. When you come to visit, I will dust it first."

"I'd like that," said Alex.

"And I'll come the very first time I'm allowed," said Mister Loki, in a small voice, from beside him. He had picked up his scarf, and was holding it in both hands, like a hat in church. "If that's all right. If I'm allowed."

"Bring a cushion," said Hel. "And do not bring a bin."

"No bins," said Mister Loki, and nearly smiled.

Felix dug in his pocket. "I think this is yours," he said, and held out a hair bobble, through the silver edge. "It's been in my pocket since Tuesday. I think it came with the hill."

"I wondered where it had gone," said Hel. She stepped up and took it, and tied her hair back with it, and unwound Dot's red wool and folded it up small and put it in her pocket, and not in a bin. For the first time all that week, it looked as if somebody had done her hair on purpose.

"There is a small wooden wolf on the shelf in my room," she said, to Felix. "Fenris may have it, when he is a little less hungry. He has never had anything of his own that he did not eat."

"And you," said Hel, to Felix, "asked the right question. It is the thing I would have liked someone to ask me, a long time ago. I shall ask it of other people."

"What's the question?" said Felix.

"Has anyone asked him?" said Hel.

Behind her, the wolf barked, one short, glad, huge bark, and wagged himself nearly in two. Skadi, who was nearest, put out one stiff hand and patted him once on the head, and looked at her own hand as if it belonged to somebody else.

Part Sixteen. Locking Up Properly

"Now," said Mister Janus, in a tired voice, "the door."

"What about it?" said Alex.

"It's open," said the bright face. "It has been open since Monday. It cannot stay so. A door that has no keeper is only a hole, and there are no keepers at all, on this one."

"But," said the quiet face, "it is not a thing that ought to be shut for ever, either."

"So we have to lock it," said Felix, "properly."

"Yes," said both faces. "It must have a keeper at each end. Here, two: somebody who says goodbye to the day, and somebody who says hello to the next. And over there, somebody who minds it."

Alex put his hand into his pocket and took out the heavy golden key. It was warm. Felix took out the other.

"Goodbye, Friday," said Alex, to the window. His voice was a bit wobbly. "You were the oddest one. I'm glad you're over."

"Hello, Saturday," said Felix. "Please be normal. And please come with a door that we can open."

They turned the keys, one after the other, in the air, and both of the keys fitted. There was a long, round, gentle clunk, like the sound of a lock settling in the dark.

The silver edge went still. For a second, it was a perfect, round, shining circle. It was so beautiful that nobody moved.

That's when, through it, we saw Tyr step forward, and lay his wooden hand flat against the other side of the frame.

"I'll keep this end," he said. "It is a promise."

"Is it a true one?" said Felix.

"I have checked," said Tyr.

And through it, we saw the gods wave, all together, with both hands: Odin, and Frigg, and Skadi, and Bragi, with his harp, and a wolf, and a tall man with a wooden hand that waved the loudest.

Then it closed.

Part Seventeen. The Record

"I have it," said Missus Ibbs.

She had been sitting on her cart at the foot of the hill, with the big old book on her lap, so quietly that we had all forgotten she was there. She had a drop of black ink on her nose. She was beaming.

"It is written," she said. "It was full the moment it was said. Every word is true, and I have a very good hand." She held up the pen. "I may not change a fact. That is the one rule. But I have written this one. In the very moment it happened. And it is the truth."

"What does it say?" said Maya, who could not stand it.

Missus Ibbs cleared her throat, and read aloud, in a clear, dry voice, to the whole of the hill.

"On Friday, at the top of the sky, two children and a cat came home. Two other children went home also. A man said sorry to a wolf. And it was mended."

Everyone was quiet. Then Mister Harris blew his nose on his clipboard.

"It is sealed," said Missus Ibbs. "Now it is how things are."

High above us, in the middle of the sky, the moon had risen slowly. She was not so near any more. She was a long way up, round and pale and serene, with the whole night to herself, and she gave a long, quiet, silvery sigh, like somebody setting down a heavy bag.

"Thank you," said Mama Quilla, very softly.

On the hill, in the moonlight, two small boys held hands. They did not say a thing. They did not need to. And we all walked home together, in the dark, with the cat in front.

"Monday," said Alex and Felix, in the same breath, at exactly the same time, at the very bottom of the hill.

The End.