Glenda the Wendle Chapter 8

She stepped out of the grass. “Could you see me?” she asked.

“No,” said Gary.

“Not at all,” said Glen.

“Not a flicker,” said Glenda.

“You try it, Gary,” said Gladys.

He walked to the clearing. They closed their eyes, and when they opened them, Gary was nowhere to be seen.

Gary stepped out of the grass. “Could you see me?” he asked.

“No,” said Gladys.

“Not at all,” said Glen.

“Not a flicker,” said Glenda.

“I used to dream about lying in the grass and looking at the sky,” said Gladys.

They continued wending their way through Feggy Wood, drumming and whistling.

They met a spiny-tailed hedge pig.

 

They met a spiny-tailed hedge pig.

 

“Hello,” said Glenda. “Have you ever seen a wulluf in Feggy Wood?”

“Hello to you,” replied the hedge pig. “No, never—and I’ve never seen Wendles that look like these two before either.”

They carried on walking, drumming and whistling until they met a digunder, which popped its head out of the tunnel it was digging.

 

     

 

The Digunder

 

“Hello,” said Glenda. “Have you ever seen a wulluf in Feggy Wood?”

The digunder waffled its nose and said, “No, never. And I have never seen Wendles that look like these two either.”

They carried on walking, drumming and whistling until they met a trumpeter bird sitting by a log.

 

The Trumpeter Bird

 

“Hello,” said Glenda. “Have you ever seen a wulluf in Feggy Wood?”

The trumpeter bird snorted. “No, never. And I have never seen Wendles that look like these two either.”

Gladys looked at the drum in her hand. “I don’t think we need to make so much noise,” she said. “I don’t think we are going to meet any wullufs, do you?”

Gary nodded. “I’ll keep the whistle just in case,” he said. Then he added, puzzled,
“Why do these creatures think we are Wendles? We are Grockywollers. Wendles are the scary monsters our grandmother warned us about.”

Glenda laughed. “They say you are Wendles because you are—Green Wendles. We are nearly at my house; I’ll explain over tea.”

After tea, Glenda told Gladys and Gary everything Walter had shared with her.

“After you had gone, I spoke to Gertie she is the oldest Grockywoller in the Dark Forest,” said Gladys. “She told me her grandmother used to talk about her grandmother. She said we took the name Grockywoller because we heard all the creatures in Feggy Wood shouting it at us.”

Glenda laughed. “I wonder if they misheard it. They were shouting ‘Crocky Wulluf’ when they were chasing the wullufs out of Feggy Wood.”

Gladys and Gary looked at each other and nodded. “That may be what happened. But we had better get home, or our parents will be worried.”

“We are going to have a Ball on the next full moon,” said Glenda. “Try to persuade your family and friends to come.”

When Gladys looked puzzled, Glenda explained about the Ball. “There will be plenty of noise and light, so no wulluf will come anywhere near it,” she finished.

“We’ll do our best,” said Gladys.

“And we can show them how to make drums and whistles,” said Gary. “That should help.”

The four friends wended their way through Feggy Wood to the Dark Trees. Gladys and Gary carefully rubbed themselves against the trees to make their fur the right colour for blending in.

Glenda and Glen watched as the two Green Wendles disappeared into the Dark Trees, then headed home.

Glenda asked a tell-tale bird to spread the word across Feggy Wood that there would be a Ball in the big clearing on the next full moon. She asked the burnyflitters if they would dangle their nightlights for the occasion, and they were only too happy to oblige.

All the woodland creatures, the grizzlers, and even Bob the Fenwangler promised to attend.

On the night of the full moon, Feggy Wood lay empty—everyone was at the Ball. There was plenty of party food and berry juice to last the night. The sky was clear, and the moon shone down upon the clearing. The burnyflitters dangled their nightlights from the trees, the wapsdoodles hummed loudly, the trumpetefants snurgled their tune, the treebanger birds drummed on the trunks, and the squarrels tootled on their flootles. The noise was deafening.

Glenda danced the first dance with Glen.

She felt uneasy. While all the Wendles of Feggy Wood were present, the Green Wendles had yet to appear. “I hope they come,” she said to Glen.

“So do I,” he replied.

When the dance ended, the musicians paused for refreshments, and for a brief moment, Feggy Wood fell silent. Then, in the distance, Glenda heard drumming and whistling.

“They’re coming!” she cried with excitement.

A few minutes later, a crowd of Green Wendles emerged from the trees, each carrying some sort of noise-maker—drums, rattles, whistles, and shakers. At the forefront was Gladys, who rushed over to Glenda.

“I hope we’re not late,” she said.

The Ball resumed, and soon everyone was either dancing, eating, or sipping berry juice. Gertie and Walter stood face to face, chatting about the past—neither able to hear the other, yet that did not seem to matter.

Gladys danced with Glen, and Gary danced with Glenda. Gladys introduced her parents, and before long, the Green Wendles had blended into the crowd.

Once again, the musicians took a break, and the clearing fell into silence.

Then, to Glenda’s horror, a massive creature leapt into the centre of the clearing. It had enormous green feet, its head was covered in blue fur, it had a long snout and a mouth full of sharp teeth, and its ears hung down the sides of its face.

The Wulluf.

“It’s the wulluf!” screamed a GreenWendle. “It’s the wulluf!”

Indeed, it was a wulluf.

Bravely, Glenda approached it. “You cannot hurt us,” she said. “Wendles are nothing but fur and wood.”

“I am not here to hurt anyone,” growled the wulluf. “I am Crocky of the Wulluf pack. I came to say thank you and goodbye.”

Glenda was puzzled. “Thank you and goodbye?”

“Yes,” snarled Crocky the Wulluf. “For a long time, I have been trying to persuade my people to leave the hills and move to the open plains beyond—where a wulluf can do what a wulluf loves more than anything else in the world.”

“What?” asked Glenda.

“Run like the wind,” grizzled Crocky the Wulluf. “My grandfather’s grandfather promised that no wulluf would ever enter Feggy Wood again. And now, I make the promise that no wulluf will ever run across the rolling hills beyond the meadows either.”

“But why now?” asked Glenda.

Crocky Wulluf looked around the clearing.“We simply cannot stand the noise.” With that, he turned and ran out of the clearing.

The creatures of Feggy Wood erupted into cheers. The musicians struck up their instruments once more, and soon, everyone was dancing again.

As the sun peeped over the rolling hills, Gladys’s mother, Gloria, approached Glenda. “Thank you,” she said. “We’ve had a wonderful time, but now we must return home.”

“Back to the Dark Trees?” asked Glenda.

“Yes,” said Gloria. “Back to the Dark Trees.”

“But you don’t have to live there anymore,” protested Glenda. “The wullufs are gone—you don’t need to hide.”

Gloria smiled. “True, but the Dark Treesare our home. And we choose to live there, rather than being forced to. There is a big difference.”

Glenda sighed.

“But don’t worry,” said Gloria. “Now that we know we can come out whenever we choose, I’m sure you’ll see a lot more of us. Especially now that we understand Wendles are not the monsters our grandmothers claimed they were—and Wendles know we are not the Grockywollers yours feared.”

“And we will definitely come for tea,” said Gladys.

“You will always be welcome,” said Glenda’