Authors: Michael Broad
he day of the river races was bright and sunny and everyone was in high spirits. Team Brown was warming up on the mooring pad, doing star jumps and squat-thrusts, when Team Black jogged out of the den and gathered alongside them. The otters all appeared focused on preparing for their challenges, but each one was secretly flicking sideways glances, sizing up the competition.
At the start, Grandma Maple, who would act as referee for all events except her own, clambered on to a specially constructed diving platform and addressed the assembled otters.
“Welcome to the first and only river races!” she said, holding up her paws in a wide, welcoming gesture as the two families cheered, whooped and clapped in excitement. “A day of sports and games, yes. But also a competition to decide who wins the right to live in Cottonwood Lodge and who will have to leave.”
The families cheered and whistled again, each confident that their own team would win the right to stay while the other would be packing up their rafts again.
“I wish you all the best of luck,” said Maple, looking out across a sea of brown and black furry faces, bright eyes gazing up at her. “And most importantly, everyone should have fun!”
Mama Black and Mama Brown watched from the bank with intrigue and disapproval in equal measure. They were preparing food and refreshments for the teams, but otherwise refused to take part in any way. And although each of them wanted her own family to win, neither wished the other family to leave.
“The first event will be the triathlon,” said Grandma Maple, stepping aside to make room for Papa Black and Papa Brown, who joined her on the platform. “A high-dive, speed-swim and overland-sprint spectacular!”
“WOO HOO!” cheered the teams, the young pups jumping up and down as their fathers mounted the diving boards, bobbing and stretching in a businesslike manner before nodding to the referee.
“LET THE GAMES BEGIN!” yelled Grandma Maple, lifting up her horn-shaped hearing-shell, puffing out her cheeks and blowing into it as hard as she could.
HOOOOOONK!
Papa Black and Papa Brown bounced on their diving boards, somersaulted in mid-air and plunged into the river, both dives so skilful that little separated them in the first section of the triathlon. Once in the water, they swam as fast as they could against the current, glistening bodies soaring in and out of the river as their families gathered along the bank and cheered them on.
“COME ON, SON!” yelled Grandpa Jack.
“YEAH, COME ON, SON!” yelled Grandpa Bruno, not to be outdone.
The speed-swim section ended upon reaching and circling a group of rocks far upstream. There, the two otters leapt out of the water and began the third and final overland-sprint section. They landed on the bank together and hit the ground running as they doubled back to the finishing line.
“I must say I'm impressed,” panted Papa Brown, sprinting as fast as he could towards the cheering crowd. “I could do with an otter as fast as you as my fishing partner!”
“That's very kind of you to say so,” panted Papa Black, imagining for a moment all the fish two strong swimmers could catch by working together. “I was thinking exactly the same thing!”
It was neck and neck until the end, but Papa Brown lost by a whisker to Papa Black and they both collapsed in a wet furry heap. The panting husbands had landed at the feet of their wives who, instead of praising their efforts, just glanced up briefly from the preparation of riverweed wraps and rolled their eyes.
For the next event, Grandma Maple went head-to-head with Jet Black down the longest, loopiest, muckiest mudslide any of them had ever seen. It sloped from the towering treeline beyond the riverbank, twisted and turned through two bumpy verges and then briefly levelled out before plunging down
a steep slide, ending with a final ramp at the water's edge.
“I'm not sure about this, Maple Moo,” whispered Grandpa Bruno, gazing up at the slippery, slopey slide. “It looks too dangerous. You might do yourself a mischief!”
“I've slid down bigger slides than that with my eyes shut,” scoffed Grandma Maple, cuddling Grandpa Bruno before heading up the hill. “But thank you for worrying. Now you know how I felt watching you go off boxing every evening.”
“May I help you to the top, Mrs Brown?” asked Jet, holding out a paw to the old otter. The young otter's Mohawk had extra beeswax to withstand the G-force.
“You may indeed, young pup,” said Grandma Maple, gripping the black otter's arm with both paws. “It's nice to see a young otter with good manners who looks out for his elders, but don't think this means I'll go easy on you when we reach the top.”
“No, ma'am,” said Jet as they carefully climbed the steep, slippery bank.
Mama Brown and Mama Black also held each other's paws as they watched their elderly mother and young son teeter to the top of the giant mudslide and, when the horn sounded, they held their breath as the fearless otters leapt off the ledge.
“WOO HOO!” yelled Grandma Maple, landing on her hind paws and surfing the mudflow. She used her tail as a rudder to steer and stay upright as the wind blasted through her fur.
“WHOOOAAAAH!” yelled Jet, who landed on his bottom and spun like a sycamore seed. He had been down many fewer mudslides than his ancient rival, but he made up for it by being more flexible, and levelled out in no time, rolling on to his belly to shoot under her legs like a rocket.
“Oh, no, you don't, young whippersnapper!” laughed Maple, zigzagging behind him so she could work up extra speed. The old otter sprang off her tail and leapt over Jet, paws landing in the mud just before the curve of the take-off ramp, which she hit at speed and shot back in the air again.
“WHEEEEEEEEE!” squealed Maple, doing a loop-the-loop, and then she plunged into the water, emerging victorious just as Jet Black soared over her head and did a massive bellyflop behind her.
“Go, Grandma!” cheered Woody Brown, jumping up and down and whooping at the top of his voice. The old otter's triumph was so spectacular that his friend joined in too.
“Go, Mrs Brown!” cheered Sooty Black, whooping and jumping up and down with his friend, until he caught sight of his frowning family and remembered whose side he was on!
The two friends had been having so much fun together, sharing snacks and following the river races, that they kept forgetting they were on rival teams.
Next up was the special water-volleyball match between Nutmeg and Chestnut Brown, and Storm and Shadow Black. An old fishing net found at the bottom of the river was stretched between the two banks just above the waterline. Then a clamshell was flipped to decide who would go first, and the twins, who called it correctly, were handed a tightly bound twig-ball.
“Come on, Browns!” yelled the Browns, gathered on one side of the river, while the Blacks cheered and whooped for their team from the opposite bank.
Nutmeg tossed the ball high in the air, spun in the water and whacked it with her tail as she rolled, head emerging again as her tail vanished, just in time to see the twig-ball soar over the net.
The ball headed for Shadow who, instead of hitting it with his paws, rolled in the water too and batted it back with his tail for a high-speed volley that shot over the net and headed straight for Chestnut. The young otter had never seen anything move so fast, especially not coming towards his head. He dived immediately, not so he could hit the ball, but to escape it!
The first point went to Storm and Shadow, who cheered and high-fived each other. But there was no such team spirit on the Browns' side of the net.
“You should have hit that!” yelled Nutmeg, splashing her brother.
“If I hadn't dodged, that ball would have knocked my head off!” protested Chestnut.
“It might have knocked some sense into you!” Nutmeg mocked.
“Let's see how much better you do when it's zooming in your direction!” said Chestnut, folding his arms in a huff.
The game resumed and this time it was Nutmeg dodging as Storm served a sideswipe, the twiggy ball spinning and whistling angrily as it whizzed through the air.
“Eeeek!” squealed Nutmeg, ducking underwater. When she emerged, the young otter saw more triumphant high-fiving on the other side of the net.
“See!” said Chestnut.
And then the Brown twins swam towards each other and did something they had never done before. They agreed to put every one of their squabbles aside and team up together, joining forces against their more formidable opponents.
The Browns began to play much better once they started working as a team. They hoisted each other up to hit high balls and tackled incoming spinners by batting together so they could handle the impact of the shots and volleys at double speed. They still lost out to Storm and Shadow, who were carried away on the shoulders of Team Black, but Nutmeg and Chestnut had had the best time ever.
“You were so quick on that last volley!” gasped Chestnut as they made their way back to Team Brown, who were cheering on the bank just as loudly as if they'd actually won.
“Thanks,” said Nutmeg, ruffling her brother's fur. “And your last serve wasn't too bad either. For a boy, that is!”
“Oi!” squeaked Chestnut, and the twins were squabbling again in no time, chasing each other in circles as Team Brown and Team Black made their way upstream for the next event.
No one knew what it was going to be because Coco and Berry had created it between themselves. All anyone knew was that the older girls had gone off together after the triathlon, and had decided that they both wanted to join in the games, but definitely didn't want to get their heads wet.
Now both teams were invited to watch and judge their mysterious event, and even Mama Brown and Mama Black attended out of sheer curiosity.
“It's the least we can do,” said Mama Brown.
“The very least,” agreed Mama Black.
The two families gathered at a bay-like section of river, not far from the lodge, that was surrounded by large willow trees. The area had small, scattered islands of rocks and reeds that slowed the flow of water to a ripple, making it appear almost still. The audience sat and watched in hushed silence as Coco and Berry tiptoed out across an overhanging branch, with lilies adorning their heads, and then eased themselves into the river.