Bonnie and SophieAbridged.

Chapter 5 Demo Dane

Awakening early Bonnie watches the moon lying on its side. 'Best move ourselves from here 'fore we're dragged into hell,' she grunts, forcing her head round a front paw, then under a rear leg to remove several thorns from tender aching skin. 'Never felt sick at my own smell before,' Sophie hisses, 'can't we find water to wash in?' 'Hang on, err... on our map I noticed a lake not too far down this valley, umm – hold on while I check.'' Bonnie searches through different rucksack pockets. 'You must have dropped it,' Sophie sighs. 'Look someone's meddled with these straps, I don't tie knots like that.' 'We've been robbed, robbed, robbed in our sleep,' Sophie wails, tears rolling down that black button nose.

They get a move on. Sun at long last replaces moon, violets come out of hiding from under the Hawthorn tree, green grass waves into the distance, small birds twitter, 'twit, twit, croo, croo, croo,' and now suddenly a cool and clear river glides up alongside them. Our two chums dive into that cool curving world, skin rippling, sliding weightless, then breaking water to doggy-paddle towards a fresh bank. Wet but clean, Sophie rolls over in the orange tinted sunshine; now for that question she's been bursting to get out all morning – 'Why did you ask Emp about a collar Bon?' 'Thousands of years ago, a collar with magical properties, was stolen from our dog race,' Bonnie answers, 'since that time we've never been bosses of our own lives. Our job's to find and recapture that collar, then take it home.' 'Well, I'll be dogged,' Sophie gasps amazed.

'There's the lake!' Bonnie yells. 'Hurrah,' Sophie shouts. 'Can't see anybody though, look how smooth the lake lies.' Gingerly lifting each paw, they cautiously step forward. Suddenly, topping a crown of reeds a fisherman appears, lean, shrewd with bendy ears shining black. 'Hey there! You're Demo the Great Dane,' they chorus. Plonk! Splough! In desperate surprise his scaly wet oar drops off the boat side into the water, instantly the old salt's paw scoops the blue and retrieves his wooden pole. 'Cursing Undines,' the giant oarsman barks jokingly, 'certainly know how to frighten a sailor,.' 'Yippee, we're glad to see you,' Soph hollers. 'In that case, come aboard,' Demo laughs, 'I'm glad to see friends from my own race.' Balanced in the boat, they giggle and enjoy the best fish meal they've ever tasted.

'Let me tell you I'm studying a problem,' Demo chortles, lolling his long pink tongue. 'Aye, boil some water while yer listening girls. What I can't understand,' Demo chuckles, 'is why it's easier to cut through melon than to cut through a piece of wood.' As he slices a fruit, giving half each to the two pals, the boat slips further away from the shore. Then he tries his knife upon the wooden bench seat; of course, it's not sharp enough to cut through the plank. 'And why is it easier to cut wood than to cut stone,' he laughs again. 'That's easy,' Sophie shouts, 'melons are softer than wood...' 'But why's a melon softer?' Demo smiles. Sophie clamps up!

'I've possibly got the answer,' he titters, 'first, you know how grains of sand are very small,' both dogs nod, 'also grains of sugar are very tiny, aren't they?' The Old English again nod. 'Well that's the answer' Demo mocks. Bonnie sits puzzled, then asks Demo to explain to Sophie. 'Imagine a sandcastle, or a cube of sugar or even a block of ice – they all look solid, don't they? But sandcastles, cubes of sugar and ice blocks are composed of thousands of smaller grains all stuck together.' 'Yes, I see, Bonnie woofs. 'Well then, just imagine that everything in the whole world is made from thousands of smaller grains, this boat for example, the food box, these slippery oars, your rucksack and even us. So now, this melon must be made from thousands of smaller melon grains and these being stuck rather loosely together, I can easily cut through it with a knife.' 'Ah yes, I see,' Bonnie smiles, though she thinks it funny that everything in the world consists of smaller grains or atoms. 'Grains of stone must be glued together very tightly,' Bonnie mutters to herself.

Changing the subject, Soph now pipes up, 'and how do we make our way with no map, can anybody tell me that?' 'Don't worry too much,' Demo laughs. 'You've finished with wild lands. In the morning we'll row across this lake and land in a strange magical country. A musical road lies straight through this region, every step you take will echo music. Follow this coloured road, a red gravel speckled with blue stones, and you won't get lost. So in this way, joking and laughing, they soon fall into a snooze on those still waters, under the starry sky. But not far away, amongst the bushes on the dark bank, nine pairs of evil eyes are carefully watching them.