Panda Panic (5 page)

As he set off, however, a leaf rustled to his right. Ping turned his head.

“Who's there?” he cried.

There was no reply, just the sound of Ping's fur rubbing together as his legs started shaking. What he wouldn't give to hear his mother's voice now, even if it was just spouting one of her silly sayings. Instead he heard a twig snap and Ping let out a tiny yelp. He heard footsteps behind him and, spinning around, he watched in horror as a shadow crept out from the forest toward him. What kind of fool was he? Why hadn't he listened to his mother? Even though it was annoying to Ping at the time, what she said now made a lot of sense. What if a snow leopard had seen him fall over the waterfall and come down from the mountain looking for food? No! No! No! No! No! NO! Ping had to stop these wild and unhelpful thoughts. He wasn't scared of shadows. Shadows were full of nothing and nothing couldn't hurt him. And that was his final word on the matter. He would just walk on calmly, as if nothing was out there. Well, maybe he wouldn't walk. Maybe he'd run. That would be more sensible. Run like the wind and leave this spooky place as far behind him as possible!

“Hello,” said a tiny, squeaky voice behind him. “Don't be afraid. I'm only little.”

Ping stopped in his tracks and turned to look at where the voice had come from. Standing in a patch of sunlight was a tiny black bear cub. Ping had never felt so silly in all his life. Even if this tiny black bear was to stand on its tiptoes and stretch out both of its arms, it still wouldn't come up to Ping's chest.

“I'm not scared,” Ping said, strolling back toward the cub. “I was just going for a run to get a bit of exercise.”

“I thought you were running away,” said the cub.

“Well, you thought wrong,” smiled Ping. “We all make mistakes.”

“Did you make a mistake when you tried to swim over the waterfall?” asked the black bear cub. “Did you think you were a penguin?”

“I have never thought I was a penguin,” said Ping. “I am the same color, I grant you, but I am a wholly different shape. And I was not swimming, I was surfing.” As he said this, Ping's memory came flooding back. “But did I make a mistake when I shot over the waterfall? Yes, I suppose I did.”

“I knew that when I watched you fall,” said the cub. “I said to myself, ‘He didn't mean to do that!' That's what I said to myself. Is your head all right now?”

“Thank you, it is,” said Ping, rubbing the bruise behind his right ear. He was touched that the little cub had asked.

“So where is your surfboard?” Now that he had gained Ping's trust the black bear cub had a million questions that he wanted to ask and they tumbled out of his mouth like apples falling from an overturned cart. “Did you really surf on that smashed-up plank of wood? Now that it's broken, how are you going to get home again? Does that mean you'll be living with me for the rest of my life? Do you want to be my friend? How many friends do you have? Is it true that pandas eat bamboo? Why do you eat something that tastes so disgusting?”

Ping could not get a word in and eventually he put his paws over his ears and shouted, “Whoa! You're making my head hurt again.”

The black bear cub fell silent.

“Have I done something wrong?” he asked quietly.

“You're asking a lot of questions,” said Ping.

“Everyone always says I talk too much and ask too many questions,” said the cub. “Do you think I do?”

“I think that you're a very little bear to be out here in this forest on your own,” Ping said, realizing that he sounded just like his own mother.

“I'm not scared of snow leopards,” said the black bear cub.

“We all say that,” admitted Ping ruefully.

“If one came near me I'd bop him on the nose.”

“Good for you!” said Ping. “Now, what's your name?”

“Little Bear,” said the cub. “I was given that name because I am little and I am a bear.”

“It's very well suited,” said Ping. “My name is Ping.”

“Ping?” said Little Bear, bursting into a fit of giggles. “That's the noise a stone makes when you bounce it off a rock.”

“It's also the name of a brave and fearless panda called Ping the Unpetrified!” Ping said briskly, feeling the need to stamp his authority on this friendship early on.

“Who's that?” gasped Little Bear.

“ME!” shouted Ping.

Little Bear beamed up at his new friend.

“I think you're very brave and fearless,” he said in awe and wonder.

“That's very kind of you to say so,” said Ping. “I try to live up to my reputation.”

Ping was used to being small and young and to everyone either ignoring him or making fun of him. So now that somebody was looking up to him and thinking he was marvelous in every way, the attention went straight to his head. He let his tongue and his imagination run away with him.

“I don't suppose you know why I'm called Ping the Unpetrified, do you?” he asked casually. “It's because I'm the Emperor's bodyguard.”

“The Emperor?” gasped Little Bear. “Do you mean the Emperor of China?”

“We're very good friends,” nodded Ping. “We've eaten deep-fried locusts together, played several games of Chinese Checkers—all of which I've won—and if anyone ever has to stand in as the Emperor's double, they always ask me first.”

“Now that you've said that, I can see the likeness,” said Little Bear, peering closely at Ping's face.

“I've always had a very regal nose,” said Ping, thinking he had probably pushed his luck just a little too far, but Little Bear was much too star-struck to notice the lie. “In fact,” Ping continued, “I'm on my way to see the Emperor now.”

“Are you? Why?”

“Well, it's top secret so I shouldn't really tell you, but if you promise to keep your lips zipped I suppose I could.”

“I promise,” said the cub eagerly.

“Then here goes,” said Ping. You could practically hear the cogs whirring in his brain as he dreamed up a story to impress Little Bear. “The kingdom is under attack from bandits who want to keep China for themselves. Not just any old bandits, but really ugly ones with faces as creased as twisted towels and scars as thick as earthworms.”

Little Bear flinched.

“My auntie looks a bit like that,” he said.

“They tried to take the Emperor hostage while he was visiting the Great Wall of China,” Ping continued grandly, “but I disguised myself as a terracotta warrior and foiled their plan.” Ping had no misgivings about turning his dream into fact. “And now the Emperor's worried that they might try again. His spies have told him that when the bandits attack they will use sharpened bamboo sticks as spears, so I'm the obvious bodyguard for the job.”

“Why?” asked Little Bear.

“Because I can eat all the bamboo forests around the Emperor's palace so that there are no bamboo sticks left.”

“Because you love bamboo?”

“Exactly,” said Ping.

“Gosh,” gasped Little Bear. “That sounds like a very important job. So are you going to the palace now?”

“I am,” said Ping. “And I'm running a bit late after my accident with the waterfall, so I probably should be on my way.”

But Little Bear was not ready to let Ping go.

“Can I come with you?” he begged. “I want to fight for the Emperor alongside you.”

Ping could not believe how stupid he had just been. By opening his big mouth and making up a story, he'd got himself into a pickle again. Why did he never learn that sticking to the truth was always the safest option? Now he had to think of another lie to get himself out of the mess created by his first one!

“The thing is…” he said, “there's a minimum height restriction to be a bodyguard and you're just under it.”

“I can grow!” cried Little Bear. “Besides, I really hate bandits so that must count for something.”

Every barrier that Ping put in Little Bear's way the clever little cub simply swatted away. “Bandits took my daddy and sold him to a cruel circus,” Little Bear continued, as a large tear rolled down his cheek. “And I've never seen him since. So please let me come. We could gather an army of big animals from the forest and all march up to the Emperor's palace together. I'm sure we'd only have to ask. I know lots of big animals who'd listen to your story and gladly fight for the Emperor, if you'll only let me take you to them.”

If Ping allowed Little Bear to tag along, the cub would quickly find out that not only did Ping
not
know the Emperor, but that he had
never
been to the palace and didn't even know where it was—and frankly that discovery would be too embarrassing for Ping to bear.

“The truth is,” he said, trying a different approach, “that being a bodyguard is much too dangerous for a little cub like you. Besides, shouldn't you be getting home soon?”

“I should really,” said Little Bear.

Ping's eyes lit up. This was his chance to wriggle free from his lie.

“So which way are you going?” he asked.

“Which way are YOU going?” said Little Bear, cleverly throwing the question right back at Ping.

Thinking that Little Bear would live in the forest, Ping pointed in the opposite direction.

“That way,” he said. “Downriver.”

“Me too!” squealed Little Bear. “We can walk together.”

Ping gave up. Little Bear would be hanging around for a little while longer and there was nothing he could do to stop him. Not that Ping particularly minded. He was secretly glad to have company.

They set off along the riverbank toward Little Bear's home. Ping pretended to study the trees so that he didn't have to talk and risk getting himself into more trouble, but Little Bear was too excited about meeting someone who actually knew the Emperor to stay quiet for long.

“Tell me about the Emperor,” he asked. “Does he live in a huge palace?”

“I need to poo,” Ping said suddenly, disappearing into the bushes for the twenty-sixth time that day. It was an excuse for him to think. Little Bear's questions were proving more and more difficult to answer.

“Well?!” shouted Little Bear, while Ping sat contemplating behind a bush. “Does he live in a huge palace?”

“It's hard to say,” Ping called back. “It's not exactly huge, but it's not exactly small.”

“What exactly is it, then?” cried Little Bear.

Ping sighed. It was going to be a long day unless he could drag something spectacular from his imagination.

“Give me a minute,” he said, “and I'll tell you.”