Until he arrived, he did not know who had summoned him and when he did arrive he was surprised to find that it was Grandmouse!
Even more surprising was what she had with her. Mawse knew then, that something extraordinary was about to happen.
He gave a little hop of excitement. Grandmouse did not waste time or words.
"Mawse," she said with that crisp stern-ness she was known for, "this is a Traveloon and it is time you were off!".
"Off?" Said Mawse.
"Yes, off!" Snapped Grandmouse. "Now get in!" So, in Mawse got.
"But off where?" He asked, a bit uncertainly.
"To find the others."
"Others?" Said Mawse.
"Really Mawse, you are tiresome aren't you. Of course there are others! Probably hundreds. Maybe even thousands, and more arriving every day. You must go and find them, remind them of their...unique capabilities..., bring them together." Mawse shook his head just a fraction. Talking to Grandmouse was often like being caught in a whirlwind: you could never quite get your bearings before she had swept you up and carried you along. But today she was windier than usual.
"Now, where is that lazy Whabbit?" Grandmouse looked around and tutted impatiently. Mawse's heart gave a little leap of relief. He wouldn't have to do this great and mysterious thing alone, of course he wouldn't. Grandmouse had recruited a friend, a companion, a peer and Mawse was pretty sure he knew who it would be. No sooner had Mawse finished that thought, when Bash came over the crest of the hill.
He took one look at Mawse standing in the Traveloon, turned sharply around and made to head off back down the hill at a swift double hop. Except he couldn't. Because he was caught. By Grandmouse's crooked staff.
"Now then," she said, "into the Traveloon."
Before he knew it, Bash had been bustled into the Traveloon with Mawse.
"Nice day." Said Mawse brightly. Bash looked at him balefully.
"Time to push off!" Said Grandmouse.
"Wait!" Yelled Mawse.
"You really are very tiresome," sighed Grandmouse. "What on earth is the matter now?
"Where are we going? Why are we going? Are we ever coming back?!" The words rushed desperately out of Mawse's mouth. Grandmouse took a deep breath. She looked like she might be counting.
"It is time for the Uzzles of Grappling Hook to return to The Land of Small." She said after a long pause.
"The Land of Small?" Mawse clarified.
"It is where all Uzzles come from, and most still live. Except for us, of course. It is where our purpose lies." Grandmouse explained more or less patiently.
"And you want us to go there?" Said Mawse faintly.
"Yes."
"A cutting out expedition!" Bash burst out unexpectedly and Mawse thought he saw a look of thrill flit briefly across his face.
"Exactly." Grandmouse smiled. "Now, hold on. Lift off can be tricky." She shoved her shoulder forcefully against the basket of the Traveloon. It lurched over the edge of the hill and floated, rockily, upwards.
"But where is the Land of Small!" Shouted Mawse as they floated up into the sky.
"You'll know it when you see it!" Grandmouse shouted back. "You can't help but find them." And with that, she turned and walked purposefully down the other side of the hill, back to Grappling Hook. Mawse looked ruefully at Bash. Like it or not, they were off.
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