Akiko and the Great Wall of Trudd by Mark Crilley Page B

couldn’t do it by himself). Spuckler kept insisting that it wasn’t that cold, but finally even
he
gave in and put his coat on.
    The sky got grayer and grayer, making it difficult to tell how late it was. Every once in a while the sun would break through the clouds, lighting up portions of the bridge and the water in dramatic bursts of white light. The surface of the Moonguzzit Sea became dark and very rough, with choppy little waves rippling under the bridge from one side to the other. I pulled the collar of my coat up against my cheeks and blew on my hands to keep them warm.

    “Mr. Yabby was right,” Mr. Beeba said, half burying his head in his coat. “We are most
definitely
heading into a cooler climate.”
    “Cold is good, Beebs,” Spuckler said optimistically. “Gets the blood churnin’.”
    “ THE TEMPERATURE IS FAST APPROACHING THE POINT OF FREEZING, SIR, ” Gax announced with a jittery clicking noise. I wondered if the lower temperatures would be hard on Gax. I remembered this big ice storm we had in Middleton one time, and how hard it was for my dad to get our car started. Gax seemed to be doing pretty well, though, and I should probably have been more worried about myself. After all, I didn’t have any gloves or even a hat.
    “Uh-oh,” Spuckler said, pointing a finger down the length of the bridge. “Looks like old Throck’s got another message for us.”
    “Another message?” I asked.
    “I think I see another of his li’l signposts down there in the middle of the bridge.”
    Sure enough, there in the distance was a small wooden sign with the same scratchy writing on it, creaking back and forth in the icy wind. We all quickened our pace until we were close enough to read it. There was a part of me that really didn’t
want
to read it, to tell the truth.
    It said:
    STOP! TURN AROUND! GO BACK! RETURN TO WHERE YOU CAME FROM! IT WILL SOON BE TOO LATE TO RECONSIDER. THIS IS YOUR FINAL WARNING.
    “F-final warning?” Mr. Beeba sputtered. “I don’t like the sound of
that
.”
    “We must be getting closer to Alia’s castle,” Spuckler said, his breath making little white clouds in the air. “I wish old Throck would just come out and face us, ’stead of puttin’ up these corny signs.”
    “I don’t
want
to face him,” I said, my voice trembling a little. “I don’t ever want to see him again!”
    “Don’t you worry, ’Kiko,” Spuckler said, placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “I’ll protect ya. I won’t let Throck touch a hair on your head.”
    “Yes, Akiko,” Mr. Beeba joined in. “Spuckler will protect all of us, you can be sure of that.”
    “Hey, I didn’t say nothin’ about protectin’
you
, Beebs,” Spuckler said with a wink.
    “Hmpf!” Mr. Beeba snorted. “Come on, let’s keep moving. It’s the only way to stay warm.”
    So we stepped around the sign and left Throck’s “final warning” behind us. A few minutes later it started to snow.
    Soon the entire surface of the bridge was covered with a fine dusting of white. It seemed to grow thicker by the minute, and before long there was a good inch or so of the stuff. With some amusement I glanced back at the various tracks we were making: my own
waffle-textured sneaker prints; Spuckler’s single footprint alternating with the little dash made by his peg leg; Mr. Beeba’s enormous round footprints; Gax’s narrow, wobbly tire tracks. If someone was following us, they’d be scratching their heads trying to figure out what sort of creatures we all were!

    Every once in a while the wind would suddenly die down for a minute or two. Then we would find ourselves strolling through an oddly peaceful scene, surrounded by big white snowflakes against a charcoal-gray sky. It was almost totally silent, apart from the muffled crunch of our footsteps and the soft patter of the waves lapping up against the bridge. I could almost believe that there was nothing at all to be afraid of.
    “Are my eyes playing tricks on