Chapter 1
Pook Gobik breathed heavily as he climbed the thin winding cliffpath home in the dark and pouring rain, dragging his small raft behind him. Just over the crest of the rise he could see his hut, a battered old lean-to that had been rebuilt by the Gobik family more times than could be recalled. A warm glow flickered within. Pook Gobik licked his beak and a brief smile displaced his frown as he thought of the warm stew his Mook would be cooking for him. He hoped it would be the orange stew; the one with seaweed and tentacles in; his favourite. His smile faded. Not one octopus had been caught that last month, not by any of the few Gobuxes who remained on the cliff. Nor had they caught trout, haddock or plaice, squid, prawn or shrimp. As their seas became more and more polluted by the foul sludges carried by the tide from the city, the fish had gradually all died and moved away. Tonight, like on every night, the Gobik family would have the plain green sludge made from the weeds on the cliff that always left Pook feeling like he'd been sick in his mouth and made the younger goblets gag and retch with disgust.
"My dearies, Pook is home!" he squawked, pushing aside the torn and tattered old sail that served as a sort of tent flap.
"Hello, Pook." Mook spoke with the dejected, flat voice that had been her norm the past few weeks. She stood over her pot, clutching the two youngest goblets in one arm and stirring with the other. Three more goblets leapt away from her skirts and ran to their Pook, crying gleefully. Pook bent and kissed them all on both ears, mustering up a smile.
Gmisel, the eldest surviving Gobik child, came running in, clutching a wingful of berries.
"Mook!" she cried, bending for her Mook's blessing, then "Pook!" when she looked up and saw him. She knelt for his kiss, then turned back to her Mook, "I have found some berries for the stew!" She unfurled her wing and proudly displayed her offering.
"Thank you, Gmisel." Mook spoke absent-mindedly with the same flat tone as always. Gmisel looked away, disappointed, and Pook sighed.
"Come here, Gmisel. Come play pebbles with me." He beckoned her, looking at Mook reproachfully. Mook, staring blankly into the distance, didn't notice.
That night, after Pook and Mook had kissed all their children and tucked them up side by side under a blanket, they lay beside each other, silent. Pook listened to the rolling thunder and the downpour of rain beating on their wooden plank roof.
"You upset Gmisel earlier." Pook said.
Mook started and looked at him, surprised, as if she had forgotten all about him, "When?" she asked.
"When she brought in her berries." Pook grimaced slightly, recalling their earlier stew. The berries hadn't much helped. Nevertheless- "She was excited but you dismissed her."
Mook frowned, "I don't remember-"
"You're so distant nowadays. I can't seem to reach you; where are you, my Mook?"
"I'm sorry." Mook sighed. Pook sighed too, "I'm just worried; about us, and about the future. About what we'll all eat when the winter sets in and the frost kills all the cliff plants. How we'll clothe the children and repair our hut... You're not catching enough fish to feed us, let alone to sell- Don't look like that, I'm not blaming you. But we can't carry on like this."
The Gobuxes sighed together. Pook knew that Mook was right.
"What do you suggest?" asked Pook helplessly.
"I don't know. I've absolutely no idea."
Pook pondered for a minute, "We could-"
A mighty thunderbolt; a crash; splintering wood; flames. The hut fell down and burned around them. Mook screeched and leapt into action, scooping up two goblets. Pook flapped around for a moment, cursing, before throwing two others over his shoulders and grabbing Gmisel's hand. The Gobiks crawled out of the wreckage of their home, choking on the thick black smoke that was filling their lungs.
Pook collapsed to the floor next to Mook, gasping for breath. He dropped the two goblets and they ran away, squealing in fear.
It was Gmisel who noticed first, "Pook, Mook- Girkorn!" She wailed, looking desperately around for her little brother. Mook and Pook leapt to their feet as one and ran towards the roaring fire that was consuming their home... and their son. Completely unhesitatingly, Pook kicked down the door and entered the wreckage. He ran around the hut, squinting against the smoke. His eyes and hands were searching every nook, every cranny. Leaning down, he felt a sudden searing pain in his head; a beam of wood had hit it. He swayed, struggling to maintain consciousness, then collapsed to the floor.
"Pook!" Mook ran to him. Pook looked up, shocked. He hadn't even noticed her follow him in.
"Get out!" he shouted harshly.
"No, I won't leave you and our son-"
"Do as I say! Just get out!" Mook bristled at his command and Pook's voice softened, pleading, "If we both die in here what will become of our children?"
"Then you go; I'm not leaving our son."
With that, Mook continued her search through the collapsing hut, leaving Pook no choice but to crawl out, still cradling his head in his hands.
It felt like hours that he waited with the shaking goblets outside, but in a few minutes Mook came out, clutching the limp figure of a goblet in her arms.
For a moment Pook's heart was gripped with terror but then he saw the beam upon Mook's face. He ran to her and they danced around, the goblets joining them. They all laughed and hugged.
"We must get him to the Koog." Mook said once they had all let out their joy and relief. "He has breathed too much smoke into his tiny lungs and one foot is singed."
Pook looked down at his tiny son and saw that this was true. One webbed foot was completely blackened. Gobuxes were wet creatures and did not easily burn so luckily the fire had not spread. Pook looked at his son, likely destined to limp and need a stick for the rest of his life, and at his home, burnt to the ground. He knew they had not the means to rebuild it.
He suppressed tears.
"I'll go to the Koog now." he said, grabbing Girkom and hurrying away. He didn't want his family to see him cry, and he needed time to think.
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