Read Online Puddlejumpers by Christopher Carlson Mark Jean - Free Book Online Page A

Shawn in flight and the look on his face frightened her. Chirping fiercely to one another, the scouts veered off through the trees in separate directions, hoping to draw the Troggs away from the Rainmaker.
    Root and Runnel escaped along a deer trail while the Troggs charged after Cully and Chop. Glancing back in the blinding snow, Cully could see the monstrous shapes ripping through the brush and hear their awful grunts. Chop heaved supplies overboard as Cully threaded between the trees, driving the coons at breakneck speed. Suddenly their sled launched off a snowbank and crashed in a frozen marsh. The raccoons scurried away as the Jumpers slipped under the broken ice into the frigid water. They swam underneath as the Troggs stomped across the marsh in a furious attempt to crush them.
    At the far shore, Cully and Chop tunneled into an otter den, seeking refuge, but a Trogg tail snaked in right behind, its hairy nostril sniffing noisily. The otters circled around the terrorized Jumpers, protecting them with their scent. The confused tail grabbed the smallest otter, shook it, then tossed it aside in frustration. As the tail slithered out, a grateful Cully and Chop curled up with the animals and listened to the departing howls of the Troggs.
    On the next ridge, Buck shuddered at the spine-chilling sound. Trusting that Cully and Chop could take care of themselves, he returned to the grove of pines, where he picked up the imprint of Root’s sled in the freshly fallen snow. He tracked their route until it was obliterated by a tail print that cut a huge swath in the snow. One of the Troggs had caught the scent of the Rainmaker.

    As the forest darkened, the only sounds Root could hear were the panting of his raccoons and the wind in his ears. His face was crusted with snow and his whole body ached. He’d been standing for hours reining the coons, struggling to stay ahead of the Troggs. Shivering in back, Runnel tucked a woolen fleece around Shawn. He was pale and his teeth were chattering. Suddenly the sled swerved and side-swiped a tree.
    â€œRoot,” she called. He turned around and their eyes met. “We have to stop. He’s hungry and cold and you’re falling asleep at the reins.”
    â€œMataki, mataki-lo.”
    â€œPlease—we need rest, too, and so do the raccoons.”
    Root knew she was right. In the last mile, the coons had begun to falter. Though reluctant to stop, he found a ravine where he hoped it would be safe to rest for a few hours.
    Halfway down the slope, Root and Runnel dug a cave in the snow big enough to enclose the sled and raccoons, then dusted it with fox dander to cover their scent. They made a nest amid the animals’ warm fur and snuggled there with Shawn, who quickly fell asleep. After the tumult of the day, the quiet of the woods wrapped them in a kind embrace. The storm had subsided, and through a small opening at the front of their shelter, they could see the Big Dipper. They shared a smile, each knowing the other was thinking about the night of Shawn’s birth.
    But their remembrance was broken by the telltale crush of snow. Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. Footsteps. Big foot-steps. Silently they began to gather their belongings and harness the coons. With hearts pounding, they nudged Shawn, still half asleep, onto the sled. Now they could smell the Trogg’s stench and hear the muffled whimpering of other Jumpers, captive in its pouch.
    When Root peeked through the opening, the Trogg came into view, thrashing wildly and yanking young birches from their roots, its tail sniffing. The noises scared Shawn, and he called out for Runnel. Shrieking, the Trogg spun around and raged toward their shelter. Root ripped open the hornets’ nest and launched a colony of angry hornets out the opening. They swarmed into the face of the charging giant, stinging it again and again and again. The Trogg swatted the air, yowling in angry confusion.
    Bursting out of their snowy