Euuuugh! Eyeball Stew! Read online

  ‘Ready!’ he shouted, waving an arm.

  Borg stepped forward, having chosen to go first. He was going to enjoy this. Of course he couldn’t actually kill Hammerhead, not in front of the whole tribe, but he could come close enough to make it amusing. Either way, he couldn’t lose. When the boy and his stick failed miserably he would win the contest and the Chief’s necklace would be his. Only a moron like Hammerhead would have agreed to such a bet.

  Borg flexed his throwing arm. A breathless hush had fallen. Snark handed him his favourite hunting spear – the one with the deadly razor-sharp tip. In the crowd, Umily turned away, unable to watch. If her dad got himself killed, she vowed never to speak to him again.

  Borg stood very still with the spear balanced in his right hand. He began his run-up, drew back his arm and let fly with a loud grunt.

  HNNNNNNNNH!

  The spear flew straight and true towards the target. Hammerhead shut his eyes.

  THUNK!

  Something splattered on his cheek which might have been blood. He opened his eyes. He was still breathing. The spear quivered in the ground, so close to his feet that it had almost trimmed his toenails. He wiped the mud off his face and waved to show he was unharmed. A mighty cheer went up and the crowd chanted the easy-to-remember Urk war cry.

  ‘URK! URK! URK!’

  ‘URK! URK! URK!’

  Borg turned to Iggy and smiled.

  ‘Your turn, boy. Let’s see you get closer than that.’

  Iggy took his boo and selected one of his arrows (the one that was almost straight).

  ‘You sure about this?’ asked his dad.

  ‘I’ll be fine,’ said Iggy.

  ‘It’s not you I’m worried about.’

  Iggy took a deep breath. It was too late to back out now.

  Under the tree, Hammerhead had taken his post again, resisting the urge to run for the nearest cave.

  Iggy squinted through one eye and took aim, trying to remember what he’d practised.

  Breathe slowly. Keep a steady arm. Try not to think of blood.

  He drew the string taut and let it go. The arrow hummed through the air in a perfect arc.

  SHOOOOOCK!

  ‘YAARRGHHH!’ Hammerhead yelled out, certain that he was dead or wounded or possibly both. The crowd had gone silent. Slowly he opened his eyes. The arrow had missed his left shoulder by a hair’s breadth, pinning him to the tree trunk by his furs. With an effort he pulled it out and held it up.

  The crowd roared:

  ‘IGGY, IGGY, IGGY!

  URK, URK! URK!’

  Iggy’s cheeks glowed. No one had ever chanted his name before.

  ‘You did it! You winned!’ yelled Hubba above the din. Mum and Dad came forward and thumped him on the back. Even Umily hugged him in sheer relief. Through the crowd Iggy caught sight of an ashen-faced Borg, looking as if he’d just witnessed the impossible. Beaten by a boy with a bent stick!

  ‘IGGY!’ boomed the Chief, clasping him in a bear hug. ‘Amazing! Incredible! Let me see that thing!’ He stared at the weapon as if it was a miracle fallen from the sky. Raising it above his head, he addressed the whole tribe.

  ‘Men of Urk! Remember this day! From now on you will all learn to hunt with the boo and arrow!’

  Everyone cheered. Everyone apart from Iggy’s dad.

  ‘Flaming Urk!’ he muttered. ‘It were dangerous enough when they was throwing spears!’

  Bloomsbury Publishing, London, Berlin, New York and Sydney

  First published in Great Britain in April 2011 by Bloomsbury Publishing Plc

  36 Soho Square, London, W1D 3QY

  Text copyright © Alan MacDonald 2011

  Illustrations copyright © Mark Beech 2011

  This electronic edition published in 2011 by Bloomsbury Publishing Plc

  The moral rights of the author and illustrator have been asserted

  All rights reserved

  No part of this publication may be reproduced or

  transmitted by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying

  or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher

  A CIP catalogue record of this book is available from the British Library

  ISBN 978 1 4088 1673 8

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