Chapter Twelve: Dawn of the Deaf.

Squid had been having a very pleasant dream when the screaming started. At least he thought it had been a pleasant dream -- he couldn't actually remember any of it, but for several weeks afterwards, he had a nice tingly feeling in his stomach whenever he saw toothpaste.

He began to unfurl himself from his blanket to turn on the lamp above his bed, but stopped when he realised that he didn't have a blanket, a lamp, or indeed a bed. What he did have, though, were a dozen or so bits of miscellaneous plant matter and a handful of what were quite possibly small dead animals that had become attached to him during the night.

Who- or whatever was screaming sounded a little annoyed. More than a little, actually: they sounded furious. This left Squid in no doubt that Cosmo was somehow involved -- people did a lot of annoyed screaming when he was around. Well, that made things much easier. Squid rolled over, draped one of the legs of his pillow[1] over his face as best he could, and tried to get back to sleep.

Sadly, sleeping is difficult when someone is shaking you violently. Squid held out for about thirty seconds before the bony fingers digging into his shoulder became too much. Reluctantly he opened one eye and then the other, and stared up at the glowy-eyed face disdainfully.

"Yes?"

"Sorry to wake you up, Squid, but I think Cosmo is in trouble."

"Yes. So what?"

The glowing eyes moved half an inch closer together as the tall robed figure frowned. "So shouldn't we go and help him? Or something?"

"I don't think so. It only encourages him." Squid rolled back on his side and waited for sleep to return. It didn't: Jeff was in the way.

Squid sighed, and opened his eyes again. "Was there something else?"

"Well... I still think we should help him. He is your friend..."

"Exactly. I've known him longer than you. Helping him never achieves anything." He willed the tall robed figure to go away and let him sleep, but there was obviously something wrong with his telepathy -- no wonder at this time of night.

He tried something a little more obvious. "Please go away and let me sleep, Jeff."

But that didn't work either. Jeff still hovered uncertainly, casting worried glances in the direction of the screams; they had become a little fainter, as if their source was moving away from the camp.

And then they suddenly stopped. After a few moments of silence there was a strangled yelp, and then the only sound they could hear was the ominous background music[2].

"Okay, now we go and help him," Squid said.

They headed towards the direction where the sound had cut off. The faintest line of light was visible on the horizon behind the trees, which either meant that morning was coming, or that the forest was on fire. Squid vaguely hoped that it was the latter.

After a hundred or so metres they reached a small clearing, the ground freshly trampled by at least a dozen pairs of feet. Jeff dropped to his knees and spent several minutes there, alternately staring at the ground from a few inches away and raising his head to ... well, listen to the wind, or something. Finally he sat up and announced: "Someone's been here." He squinted, turned his head this way and that, and added: "And they went that way."

Squid followed his pointed finger, and saw the tracks that he and Jeff had made a few minutes ago coming from the camp. "Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure! I've read books, you know." His glowing eyes managed to look indignant.

"I'm sure you have. I only ask because that" -- Squid pointed -- "looks like the prints from Cosmo's trainers, and they sort of lead the other way."

Wordlessly, Jeff dropped to his knees again and stared at the ground even longer than last time. He actually sniffed at one of the shoe prints, then at the air, then sat completely motionless for at least a minute, his head cocked to one side. Then he said: "I think you might be right."

"Thank gods for that," Squid muttered under his breath.

Jeff stood up, dusted himself off, and they began to follow Cosmo's tracks deeper into the forest.

Five minutes later, something jumped out of a tree and into Jeff's face.

--
[1] His trousers, actually.

[2] Mostly very high-pitched violins. They were giving Squid a bit of a headache.