“Manners, everyone!” roared Uncle. “Silence, PLEASE!” Sulkily, the kits obeyed. He went on, “Princess Radiant is most certainly not a Ruddertail, Skeema. And she is not an enemy. She is… or rather she was… a member of the Truepatch tribe, who treated her as cruelly as the Sharpeyes treated us. And they threw her out. Sadly for her, she had no fellow meerkats with her, so had no choice for many a suntime and darktime but to be a tribeless Wanderer. When I came across her, worn-out and defenceless under a shrub on the border of Shepherd Tree Clump, I… well, I didn’t hesitate, did I, Princess?”
“Radiant, please, my dear! Let the kitties just call me Radiant!”
“Kitties!” spluttered Mimi. “Me? Me? A kitty?”
Uncle ignored Mimi and pressed on with his story. “I had no hesitation in offering the, hurrumph, very lovely Radiant, my protection. Our protection, I should say. Only…”
“Only we thought I might be a bit of a shock to you if I just wandered into the burrow,” put in Radiant with a twitch of her (very lovely) nose. “So we thought I’d better lie low until we could think of a way of, er, breaking the news about me as gently as possible. Your uncle – the dear, kind fellow – hid me away and brought me all sorts of smashing grub to fatten me up a bit. Didn’t you, my splendid old fearless hero?”
The kits looked at each other and rolled their eyes. “Yuck!” muttered Mimi.
“That explains why Uncle kept running off and disappearing!” whispered Skeema with a touch of admiration. “And why he kept pretending to check on the escape-tunnels. Crafty!”
“But she can’t stay here,” returned Mimi, horrified.
“Well, I don’t want to intrude if I’m not wanted,” said the newcomer, sensing that she was far from welcome. “Perhaps I should leave now. I’m sorry…”
“Nonsense! You’re not intruding at all!” cried Uncle. “Allow me to introduce you properly. Radiant, this is my niece, Mimi. Say how-do-you-do, Mimi.”
Mimi was so furious that she could only just manage to say hello.
Skeema was equally stiff and he couldn’t quite bring himself to say that he was pleased to meet her.
Little Dream was much more welcoming. “How do you do?” he said politely and touched his nose against the stranger’s face. “Our Mama is a Wanderer too,” he said sadly. “I have dreams about her sometimes. Her name’s Fragrant. You didn’t bump into her on your wanderings, did you, by any chance?”
“Now, now, Dreamie,” said Uncle gently. “Let’s not go over that again, eh, dear boy?” His sister, Fragrant, was dead and gone, he was sure of it. He hated to see the little chap get excited by a false hope. “Harrumph! I tell you what. We can’t bring your Mama back. But I’ve been thinking. What the Really Mad Mob needs more than anything is – um – a kind and caring adult female to join us. Someone strong, with spirit, d’you see? Someone who can bring… well, the things that the right sort of adult females can bring.”
“But you look after us,” said Skeema.
“And we manage very well on our own,” grumbled Mimi.
Uncle wasn’t listening. He gazed adoringly at Radiant. “So if you’ll permit me, my dear…” he said, “as King of the Really Mads, and Lord of the Click-clicks – I should like to welcome you officially into our tribe.”
In a flash, he twirled like a dancer and sprayed her with the mark of the Really Mad Mob. “Please consider yourself one of us,” he said merrily, rapidly blinking his one good eye. “Kits, give her a nice welcome, what-what!” He puffed out his chest proudly.
“I say, you’re all frightfully decent!” cried Radiant, hugging them firmly and giving everyone a jolly good nose-rub. “I can’t tell you how grateful I am to be among friends and out of danger. I had a pretty grim time all on my own-io in the Upworld, I don’t mind telling you. We meerkats are not much good without other meerkats looking out for us, are we?” She tried to make light of it, but were those tears of relief shining in her eyes? She wiped them away impatiently. “I’m not sure how I can ever thank you.” She looked hard at Uncle when she said this. Then she was bustling among the kits, squeezing and nipping them affectionately. “But I give you my word that I am bally-well going to try.”
Skeema and Mimi managed to mumble something and Uncle, bursting with joy and pride, gathered them all into his arms.
“Hear, hear,” said Little Dream, politely. “Good speech. Welcome to the Really Mads.”
Chapter 3
“Now, come along, everyone!” Uncle cried. “That’s enough talk! With the rains so late, we need to save bags of energy just to find enough to eat. Tails up then, the Really Mads, and let’s head for the foraging grounds!”
Off they raced, dipping in and out of the dry tufts of spiky grass splashed with the stinking white tell-tale scent-marks of hyenas. “Eyes sharp!” barked Uncle Fearless. “Stay together to stay alive! Don’t be fooled just because hyenas giggle. The louder they laugh, the hungrier they are.” So everyone was extra-watchful as they came to open ground near a lofty camelthorn tree.
“I’ll take first sentry-duty!” cried Mimi in a huffy sort of voice. She darted up to the top of the tree like a monkey and scanned the horizon for signs of trouble. “Though why I should look out for HER I really don’t know,” she muttered under her breath.
With Mimi on guard, the others could get their heads down and dig with a will, but the pickings were thin. Before the rains came, food was always scarce. The damp places, where the juiciest bugs and lizards and scorpions love to cool themselves, lay far below the surface and were hard to sniff out.
Skeema was chasing ants, throwing up a shower of hot sand to get at some of their eggs, when he suddenly came face to face with a crawler he hadn’t met before. It was a shiny black beetle with white marks on its cheeks. It seemed to be tucking into the ants itself and was waving its long legs and pincers in a wild sort of way. Skeema was very fond of his food, especially scorpions, so he was used to the darting and threatening tricks that many delicious creatures use to try to avoid getting eaten. In fact, the sheer cheek of the little creature made him determined to find out what it tasted like. He lowered his nose almost to the ground to get within nibbling range. Then he began to knock the beetle about with his paw.
Crack-crack! The creature let off a double explosion from its back end! It sent twin streams of acid flying right at Skeema’s eye! With a yelp and a backward-roll, Skeema flung himself away from the danger. But in a couple of seconds he was nose down and back in the hunt.
“Careful now!” warned Uncle. “Black-and-white stranger – always a danger! I’ve told you that before. That’s an Oogpister you’re playing with, by all that stinks and stings! He’ll do real damage to your eyes if you let him! Give him a wide berth!”
“Respect!” muttered Skeema to the little squirt, thinking how clever it was and that, if ever he found himself cornered, a quick Oogpister-move, might come in very handy.
When it was Skeema’s turn to keep watch, Mimi came down from her perch to feed. She was still very grumpy and complained to Little Dream, “I’m not hungry at all, and it’s all Uncle’s fault!”
She was dreadfully jealous. Instead of giving her lots of attention, Uncle seemed to be more or less ignoring her. He kept fussing after Radiant, offering her the choicest