Toad Away - Morris Gleitzman [43]
The total failure of their quest.
His failure.
I can't put it off any longer, thought Limpy miserably. I've got to tell the others.
“Charm and Goliath,” he said. “I've got something to confess.”
“What?” said Goliath. “That you should have let me stay and talk to my fan the dust mite?”
“No,” said Limpy. “Not that.”
He took a deep breath.
But it was no good.
He couldn't do it.
He didn't manage to do it until they'd landed in Australia and found some birds to take them on the last part of the journey and were almost home.
Limpy looked across at Charm and Goliath, dozing in the warm slipstream underneath their birds.
“Charm and Goliath,” he said. “I've got something to tell you.”
They both opened their eyes and looked at him.
Limpy took a big sad breath.
“I failed in the quest,” he said. “When we visited the ancient human, I forgot to ask him the secret of living in peace with other humans.”
Limpy waited miserably for them to respond.
“That's OK,” said Charm softly. “I asked him.”
Limpy stared at her, his heart going faster than a hummingbird's armpit.
“What did he say?” croaked Limpy.
Charm opened her mouth to tell him, then glanced across at Goliath, who was listening with interest.
“I'll tell you when we get back home,” she said.
Limpy woke up. It felt good to be back in his own room. Plus he was still glowing from the welcome-home party. All those hugs long into the night under the almost-full moon.
Then Limpy remembered that Charm still hadn't told him what the ancient human had said.
He hopped out of bed, gave the rellies a quick dust, washed his tongue in the swamp, admired the sunrise, and went looking for the others.
He couldn't find them anywhere.
Not Charm, Goliath, Mum, or Dad.
That's strange, thought Limpy. I didn't sleep longer than usual. I haven't been eating the pills humans sometimes chuck out of passing cars, so I wasn't in a coma.
He tried to remember if today was a special day. Mum's birthday, or the day each week they took Goliath to the echidna nest to clean his teeth on the bristles.
No, neither of those.
Then Limpy noticed something very odd. The swamp was nearly deserted. Not a cane toad to be seen.
Panic gripped Limpy's throat sac.
Had human picnickers come while he was asleep and attacked the swamp? Was everyone dead?
Limpy looked around wildly.
That couldn't be it. None of the bushes or swamp grass or reeds was even a tiny bit bruised. Humans on a violent rampage would have crushed them. And left behind empty drink cans and supermarket bags.
Limpy felt dizzy with relief.
But it was still very strange.
The only living creature he could see was an ant dragging a ball of wombat poo along a bush path.
“G'day,” said the ant. “Why aren't you at the picnic?”
“What picnic?” said Limpy.
“The picnic,” said the ant, pointing along the bush path. “The picnic all the others have gone to. The human picnic.”
Limpy found the human picnic in a bush clearing.
The adult and kid humans were playing ball at one end of the clearing, and their picnic rug, covered with food and drinks, was at the other.
All the cane toads were crouched in the long grass, looking at the picnic rug expectantly.
“Ah, there you are, love,” said Mum, giving Limpy a squeeze. “You looked so tired and jet-lagged we didn't want to wake you.”
“You deserved a sleep-in after a heroic journey like yours,” said Dad. He turned to Charm. “Can we start now, love?”
Charm nodded. She gave Limpy a quick hug. “I wouldn't have started without you,” she said.
“Which is why we've been waiting half the morning,” grumbled Goliath.
This is it, thought Limpy. Charm's going to reveal the secret of living in peace and friendship with humans.
He was all ears.
But instead of talking, Charm hopped over to the picnic rug and did a quick pee in each of the drinks.
Limpy couldn't believe what he was seeing. “Stop!” he yelled at her. “That's not the way to do it!”
“I agree,” said Goliath. “I'd put