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Nope,
it sure didn’t seem like they were in
Timbuktoo anymore.
When they peeked back at the Peppermint Mountains,
there was no crevice in the rock or archway
to be found. They had totally disappeared,
and the mountains weren’t pink and white, or
slippery and shiny anymore on this side of
them. They just looked like ‘ole rock. You
know, brown, gray, rock. Tufts of grass grew
on the sides and the horses headed that way.
Now there was white sand beneath their feet
with tufts of tall reedy grass so high that
you couldn’t see over it, even on horseback.
Noticing a path through the reedy tuffs, what
else could they do but follow it? Where was
da Muff anyway?
They could hear a roaring and feel the salt
spray, but they couldn’t see an ocean, yet.
It was around 3 PM Granma guessed by the sun.
No … this wasn’t Timbuktoo at all. The three
suns on this side of the mountains were an
iridescent blue one and two quartz pink, and
the was sky a pearly white, not orange like
in Timbuktoo with the yellow and the white suns.
Overhead they saw different shades of purple,
pink and blue clouds swirling in the white
sky. Julio got his sword out and tied it to
his blanket fringe, just in case. Da Muff was
already down the path, into mischief no doubt.
Maybe out here in the tall grass she could
find something to catch and eat. The reeds
were almost like trees on either side of them
as they rode through.
All of a sudden they heard a few yelps down the
path and wondered what da Muff had gotten into.
Julio was the first to come upon the scene and
called out “What’s that?” As they came closer
they saw 3 speckled purple eggs, the size
of footballs, in a nest made of sticks and reeds
on the gound. No critter was in view. The
horses had their ears perked up and were quivering.
A few steps further on they ran into who the
nest belonged to.
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