POP! POP! The balloons
burst. Suddenly Bruce and Bonnie found themselves flying through the air
with only balloon strings and bits of popped balloon in their hands. "What
happened?" Bonnie asked.
"I think the balloons got
tired of carrying us along. Well, now that weíre flying on our own again,
we might as well find out where we are. I see a town below. Follow me,"
Bruce called and headed towards the town surrounded by hills. They landed
on a tree branch, growing next to a statue. "Thatís a big horse," Bruce
said, looking up at it.
"I wonder why thereís a
statue of a man on a horse," Bonnie said.
"I think itís called, The
Horse. One of my pals told me about it. It represents the days when a
group of Scots, called the Callants, captured a flag that belonged to a
band of English soldiers. The English were always coming over and
attacking the folks here. I think it happened in 1514. The men were all
from Hawick, which is the name of the town we are now in," Bruce
"It sounds like you are
calling it Hoy-ick? But the sign says it is called Ha-wick," Bonnie
"The locals pronounce it
"Thatís an unusual name. No
matter. Itís a nice statue and a nice town." With only one thing on her
mind, Bonnie blurted, "Oh look, Bruce, primroses. I can taste the nectar
already." She flew over to the small pink flowers and started sipping
Bruce joined her. "Bonnie,
I know some more things about this place. A long time ago, the Saxons
called it Haggawick."
"What a funny name that is.
Hag-ga-wick? Why did they call it that?" Bonnie said, gulping down some
more sweet nectar.
"Haggawick means Ďthe
settlement hedged around by hillsí. Look at the hills here!"
"What was that?" Bruce
asked. Something had flown past and knocked him to the ground. He stood
up, brushed off his wings and looked around.
"It was a bicyclist. Watch
out. Here comes another!" Bonnie warned. Somehow sheíd managed to hold
onto the primroses.
"Iím not sure which is more
dangerous, a horse, or a bicycle whizzing past. I think we should find
somewhere a little less crowded," Bruce said. He flew into the air.
Bonnie wiped the nectar of
her proboscis and followed him. "Where are we going?" she asked.
"Letís just fly around and
see what is here. Oh, look down there. Itís a mill. Hawick is also famous
for its knitwear. Maybe we can go and find a pair of mittens or socks,"
"I donít think they make
socks small enough for butterflies, do you?" Bonnie laughed.
They flew into the mill.
There were tables stacked high with woolen cardigans and jumpers, socks
and blankets. "This one is soft," Bruce said, landing on a cardigan. It
was pale purple. "Itís the color of heather," he noticed.
Suddenly the room was
filled with noise. Bruce and Bonnie looked up. The room was filling up
with people. They were running in the front doors, coming towards the
tables near them. Each table had a sign on it that read, ĎSALEí. There was
a lot of pushing and grabbing. Soon Bruce and Bonnie found themselves
under the table, lying on the ground. "What is this all about?" Bruce
"Itís a woolen sale.
Everyone wants a bargain," Bonnie explained. Shoe-covered feet were going
everywhere. "Watch out, Bruce. Donít get stepped on."
"Yikes! This is more
dangerous than the bicycles. A woolen mill is no place for a butterfly,"
Bruce said. "Come on, Bonnie." He flew into the air, well above the hordes
of people, and found their way outside through an open window.
They flew until they came
to a small river. "It looks safe here," Bruce sighed.
"Heather!" Bonnie called
out. "Delicious, purple heather. I must have some nectar." She stuck her
proboscis into a heather bell. "Delicious."
Bruce flew over to the
heather and joined her. A fish that was swimming in the river, spotted the
butterflies. It came flying out of the water and grabbed hold of Bruceís
leg. "Help! Bonnie! A fish has my leg!"
Bonnie lifted her head from
the heather bell. She saw the fish slithering back into the river with
Bruce in its mouth. "Hang on. Iíll help you," she called. She flew over
and grabbed hold of Bruceís hands. She pulled and pulled. The fish was
nearly underwater, along with the butterfly. "Iím pulling as hard as I
can, Bruce." She was getting tired. The fish was very big. It went under
the water. Bruce went under the water too. Bonnie, using all her strength,
was able to pull him out. The two butterflies flew high into the air. The
fish stuck its head out and spat water at them, but they were near the
treetops by then. The water spurted towards them and then fell back into
the river. The fish, seeing its meal fly away, swam down the river in
search of something else to eat.
"Thank you, Bonnie. That
was a close one. This town is not safe for a butterfly. There are too many
bicyclists, stampeding shoppers, and big fish! Letís find a field of
fluffy, purple thistle, growing in a nice, quiet, peaceful part of the
"Good idea," Bonnie agreed
and the butterflies flew off in search of a place of serenity.