The Wibbly Way did not become less wibbly.
If anything, it became more wibbly.
It wibbled left.
It wobbled right.
At one point, it bent itself into a loop, looked very pleased about it, and made Boxy walk past the same suspicious fern three times.
Pete stopped.
Looked at the fern.
Looked at Boxy.
Then held up a sign.
WE HAVE PASSED THIS FERN BEFORE.
The fern gave a tiny wave.
Pete slowly added another line.
THE FERN KNOWS.
Gluebert marched forward with his usual confidence, which was impressive, because his hat was on backwards and one boot was making a squelching noise.
“Fear not,” he announced. “The Wibbly Way is clearly testing us.”
Boxy looked down at the path.
It shivered.
Then sneezed out a pebble.
“Is it?”
“No,” said Gluebert. “But saying things clearly makes me feel better.”
The path ahead grew warmer.
The jungle trees thinned.
The leaves became wider.
The air became thicker.
Somewhere far away, something went:
THOOM.
Boxy froze.
Pete froze harder.
Gluebert raised one finger.
“Ah. Classic distant thoom.”
Pete’s sign appeared instantly.
STOP SAYING CLASSIC.
THOOM.
The ground trembled.
A little stone bounced past Boxy’s boot.
Then another.
Then a mushroom popped out of the ground, screamed, and popped back in.
Boxy swallowed.
“That sounded… big.”
Gluebert nodded seriously.
“Or very small, but wearing heavy shoes.”
THOOM.
The trees ahead shook.
The Wibbly Way curled forward, glowing between huge ferns and ancient rocks. A warm orange light flickered beyond them.
Boxy’s knees wanted to go home.
Boxy did not let them.
“This feels scary,” he said.
Pete looked at him.
Gluebert looked at him.
The path wobbled beneath their feet.
Boxy took one brave step forward.
“But we’ll go carefully.”
Pete held up a sign.
I PREFER NOT DYING CAREFULLY.
And together, they followed the path into the heat.
The world opened.
Mountains rose.
Waterfalls crashed.
Ferns waved like giant green hands.
A volcano sat on the horizon, puffing smoke rings into the sky.
One smoke ring turned into a duck.
The duck looked offended.
Then vanished.
Boxy stared.
Gluebert smiled.
“Ah.”
Pete lifted a sign.
NO.
Gluebert spread his arms proudly.
“The Land Before Glue.”
Boxy blinked.
“Before glue?”
“Before things knew how to stay together,” Gluebert whispered.
A nearby tree dropped all its leaves.
The leaves floated down, paused, and stuck themselves back on upside down.
Pete looked at the tree.
Then held up a sign.
UNSETTLING.
Gluebert nodded.
“This land is old. Very old. Older than labels. Older than instructions. Older than sensible shelving.”
A vine dropped from a branch and tied itself into a knot.
Then immediately untied itself and flopped sadly to the ground.
“Nothing here is quite finished,” said Gluebert.
Boxy looked at the Wibbly Way.
It was glowing.
But not straight.
Not steady.
Not sure.
“Then why are we here?”
Before Gluebert could answer, something tiny shot out from behind a rock.
WHIZZ!
It had wheels.
It had a tail.
It had tiny wooden legs.
It was a dinosaur.
On wheels.
It zoomed past Boxy.
Then another.
WHIZZ!
Then six more.
WHIZZ! WHIZZ! WHIZZ!
One tiny racer shot between Gluebert’s feet.
He yelped, spun in a circle, and sat down very suddenly.
PLOMP.
Pete raised a sign.
FALL REPORT: OPENED.
Gluebert stood, brushed himself off, and tried to look dignified.
“I meant to inspect the floor.”
His hat bounced off his head, rolled under a fern, and vanished with a tiny pop.
Gluebert pointed at the fern.
“That fern has stolen my hat.”
Pete glanced at the suspicious fern from earlier.
THE FERN NETWORK IS GROWING.
A small wooden dinosaur rolled back towards them. It had bright painted spots, wonky eyes, and a face that said it was absolutely ready to cause problems.
Boxy crouched.
“Hello there.”
The dinosaur racer rolled closer.
Then gently bumped Boxy’s boot.
bonk.
It reversed.
Rolled forward.
bonk.
Pete watched.
Held up a sign.
IT HAS CHOSEN VIOLENCE.
More racers gathered.
They lined up on a smooth strip of stone, all wiggling with excitement.
A tiny leaf banner dropped from above.
It read:
THE GREAT DINO DASH.
Gluebert clapped his hands.
“At last. A formal event.”
A very small dinosaur wearing a referee hat blew a whistle.
PEEP!
The racers shot forward.
One went straight.
One went sideways.
One went backwards.
One spun in a circle and looked delighted.
Boxy cheered.
Pete was knocked over by the backwards one.
DONK.
He lay flat on the ground.
Then slowly lifted a sign.
RACE RULES REQUIRED.
The racers flew over smooth stone, then hit a patch of soft moss.
They slowed.
One stopped completely and fell asleep.
Boxy tilted his head.
“They move faster on the stone.”
Gluebert nodded.
“Less friction. Wheels like smooth surfaces. Moss is basically nature’s carpet.”
Pete sat up, covered in moss.
His sign said:
NATURE’S CARPET IS RUDE.
The little racer bumped Boxy’s boot again.
bonk.
Then looked up at him.
Boxy smiled.
“You want us to race with you?”
The racer nodded so hard one wheel wobbled.
Gluebert threw his arms wide.
“Excellent! Dinosaurs respect confidence.”
The racers stared at him.
Gluebert cleared his throat.
“Raaaar.”
The racers stared harder.
Pete lifted a sign.
APPARENTLY NOT.
Gluebert tried again.
“Raaaar, but with confidence.”
The smallest racer rolled forward and bit the end of his robe.
Gluebert looked down.
“Ah. Respectful nibbling.”
The racer pulled.
Gluebert stumbled.
The racers took off.
So did Gluebert.
“BOXYYYYYY!”
He skidded across the stone behind them, robes flapping, beard streaming, boots bouncing.
Boxy ran after him.
Pete sighed, stood up, and held up a sign while walking.
THIS FEELS AVOIDABLE.
The racers zoomed down the track.
Gluebert zoomed after them.
Boxy chased.
Pete followed.
The Wibbly Way glowed beneath them, wobbling as if laughing.
At the end of the track, the racers reached a wall of rock covered in strange marks.
Gluebert crashed gently into a fern.
fwoomp.
He sat up with leaves in his beard.
“I won.”
Pete pointed at the racers, who were already celebrating with leaf confetti.
Gluebert nodded.
“I won emotionally.”
A glowing sticker floated down and landed on the map.
The path gave a happy wobble.
Then the ground shook again.
Not a racing shake.
A deeper shake.
A sleepy, grumbly, ancient shake.
THOOOOOM.
The racers stopped.
Every little dinosaur went still.
Boxy turned.
“What was that?”
From the rock wall came a faint white shimmer.
The strange marks began to glow.
Lines.
Dots.
Long curves.
A tail.
A neck.
A rib cage.
Pete stepped closer.
His sign was smaller this time.
BONES.
Gluebert brushed dust from the stone.
“Not bones now. A fossil. A memory in the rock.”
Boxy touched the wall gently.
The lines faded.
“Oh no. It’s disappearing.”
Gluebert rummaged in his robe and pulled out three spoons, a sock, a button, half a sandwich, and finally a stick of chalk.
“Aha!”
Pete raised a sign.
WHY DID YOU HAVE ALL THAT.
Gluebert paused.
“Preparedness.”
Pete looked at the half sandwich.
THAT SANDWICH IS OLDER THAN ME.
Boxy placed a black stone slab over the glowing shape. He rubbed the chalk gently across it.
At first, nothing happened.
Then thin white lines appeared.
A tail.
A back.
Tall legs.
A long, long neck.
Boxy gasped.
“A diplodocus.”
The shape glowed softly.
The hidden creature had been there all along.
They just had to reveal it.
Pete stared at the fossil.
For once, he did not write anything.
Boxy glanced at him.
“You okay?”
Pete looked at the fossil.
Then at himself.
Then slowly held up a sign.
IT WAS STILL THERE.
Boxy nodded.
“Even when we couldn’t see it.”
Gluebert, unusually quiet, placed a hand on Pete’s shoulder.
Then spoiled the moment by immediately getting chalk on his own beard.
Pete looked at him.
Another sign appeared.
YOU HAVE A FOSSIL FACE.
Boxy laughed.
Gluebert tried to look offended, but the chalk had given him a white moustache on top of his normal moustache, so it didn’t really work.
The fossil lines shimmered.
A second sticker floated down.
Then the volcano burped.
Not erupted.
Burped.
BUUURP.
A puff of smoke rolled across the sky.
Out of it dropped Gluebert’s missing hat.
It landed neatly on his head.
Then a spoon landed beside him.
Then another spoon.
Then a single banana.
Pete stared at the banana.
Held up a sign.
NOT AGAIN.
Before anyone could answer, something screeched above them.
Not a scary screech.
More like a kettle trying to sing.
“KREEEE!”
A shadow swooped across the ground.
Boxy looked up.
A flying dinosaur circled above them.
Its wooden wings flapped unevenly.
Strings dangled from its body.
A control bar bobbed above it, tangled in vines.
“It’s stuck!” cried Boxy.
The creature flapped wildly.
One wing went up.
The other went down.
Then both went sideways.
It spun in a wonky circle and knocked a coconut out of a tree.
The coconut dropped onto Gluebert’s hat.
DONK.
Gluebert froze.
Pete raised a sign.
FALL REPORT: NEAR MISS.
Boxy pointed to the strings.
“If we pull them carefully, we can help it move.”
Gluebert stood tall.
“Allow me. Dinosaurs respect confidence.”
Pete held up a sign.
WE JUST TESTED THIS.
Gluebert grabbed the control bar.
The flying dinosaur flapped.
Gluebert pulled one string.
The left wing shot up.
He pulled another.
The right leg kicked.
He pulled all of them.
The dinosaur launched forward.
So did Gluebert.
“OH GOODNESS.”
He lifted clean off the ground.
Boxy grabbed his robe.
Pete grabbed Boxy’s backpack.
The flying dinosaur dragged all three of them across the clearing.
Their feet skimmed the grass.
Boxy laughed and yelled at the same time.
Gluebert shouted, “I have everything under control!”
A vine smacked him in the face.
fwip.
“I have less under control!”
Pete’s sign flapped wildly in the wind.
SKY IS UNNECESSARY.
The flying dinosaur swooped lower.
Boxy reached up and untangled the first string.
Pete, still being dragged, grabbed another and pulled.
The wings steadied.
Gluebert stopped spinning.
The dinosaur glided gently down.
It landed on a flat rock, puffed out its chest, and gave a proud little squeak.
“Kree.”
Boxy smiled.
“There. You just needed a little help.”
Pete sat up, dizzy.
His sign said:
I DID NOT ENJOY SKY.
The flying dinosaur nudged him gently with its beak.
Pete stared.
Then patted its head once.
Very quickly.
A third sticker floated onto the map.
The Wibbly Way curled around the rock and led deeper into the valley.
They followed it until they reached a quiet patch beneath a huge fern.
There, sitting on a mossy log, was a small dinosaur shape.
Soft.
Flat.
Full of little holes around the edge.
Loose thread trailed beside it.
It looked unfinished.
Boxy picked it up carefully.
“It needs stitching.”
Gluebert nodded.
“Some things come apart if nothing holds them.”
Pete looked at the little dinosaur.
Then at the holes.
Then at the thread.
He took it from Boxy.
Slowly, carefully, he guided the thread through one hole.
Then the next.
And the next.
He made a mistake.
The thread crossed the wrong way.
Pete froze.
His eyes narrowed.
He started to pull it all back out.
Boxy gently put a hand over his.
“You don’t have to start again. It can still work.”
Pete looked at him.
Then looked at the wonky stitch.
Gluebert nodded.
“I spend a lot of time pretending I know how to hold things together,” he said.
He cleared his throat.
“Usually with glue. Occasionally with panic.”
Boxy smiled.
“That might be the truest thing you’ve ever said.”
Gluebert looked proud.
Then worried.
“Should I be concerned?”
Pete considered the wonky stitch.
Then continued.
One stitch.
Another.
Another.
The little dinosaur slowly took shape.
Not perfectly.
But properly.
Pete touched his own chest.
Just once.
Then he looked away quickly, as if he had not meant anyone to notice.
When Pete tied the final knot, the dinosaur blinked.
Then sneezed.
achoo.
A tiny puff of glitter came out.
Pete dropped it.
The stitched dinosaur bounced, shook itself, and ran in a small circle.
Pete’s sign appeared.
I MADE A THING.
Boxy grinned.
“You did.”
Pete looked at the dinosaur again.
Then wrote underneath:
IT IS WONKY.
The dinosaur tripped over its own foot, rolled over, and popped back up happily.
Pete added:
I LIKE IT.
The stitched dinosaur chirped and climbed onto Pete’s shoulder.
He pretended not to like this.
He absolutely did.
The Wibbly Way glowed brighter.
But before the next sticker could land…
THOOOOOOM.
The whole valley shook.
Leaves fell.
Rocks jumped.
The little racers hid behind Boxy’s boots.
The flying dinosaur tucked its wings over its head.
The stitched dinosaur squeaked and grabbed the edge of Pete’s sign.
Pete lifted it with one hand.
RUDE.
From beyond the trees came a low rumble.
Then a snore.
Then another rumble.
Then a much louder snore.
Gluebert whispered.
“Something very large is asleep.”
Boxy whispered back.
“Then we should be quiet.”
The Wibbly Way curled straight towards the sound.
Pete shook his head.
No sign.
Just shaking.
Boxy looked at him.
“I know.”
Pete stopped.
Boxy looked scared too.
But he took a small step.
Then another.
The trees parted.
In the middle of a wide clearing lay the biggest dinosaur Boxy had ever seen.
It was enormous.
Mountain-sized.
Moss grew on its back.
Birds nested on its tail.
Its nose was the size of a shed.
Every time it breathed out, three nearby bushes flattened.
Gluebert whispered.
“The Great Grumblosaur.”
The Great Grumblosaur snored.
GRRRRRRMMMMMPH.
The sound shook Boxy’s knees.
A small wooden sign stood beside the clearing.
It read:
PLEASE DO NOT WAKE THE GREAT GRUMBLOSAUR.
Underneath, in smaller writing:
HE IS VERY TIRED.
Pete pointed at the sign.
Then pointed at the path.
Then held up his own sign.
WE SHOULD RESPECT THE SIGN.
The Wibbly Way glowed directly over the Grumblosaur’s tail.
Boxy sighed.
“Of course.”
They tiptoed forward.
Very carefully.
Very slowly.
Very quietly.
Then the volcano burped again.
BUUURP.
A pair of giant dinosaur feet dropped out of the sky.
They landed in front of Boxy.
They were bright.
Foam.
Covered in colourful tissue scales.
With big felt claws.
Boxy stared.
Gluebert stared.
Pete stared longest.
Pete held up a sign.
ABSOLUTELY NOT.
The Wibbly Way glowed.
The giant feet wiggled.
Boxy slipped his feet into them.
Gluebert did the same.
Pete shook his head.
The stitched dinosaur on his shoulder squeaked at him.
Pete looked at it.
Then at the Grumblosaur.
Then at the ridiculous feet.
Very slowly, he put them on.
They were too big.
He took one step.
STOMP.
Everyone froze.
The Grumblosaur snorted.
A bird flew out of its nose and looked personally offended.
Pete lifted a sign.
THE FEET ARE TOO LOUD.
Gluebert tried a careful step.
STOMP.
Boxy tried.
STOMP.
The Grumblosaur’s eyelid twitched.
Boxy whispered.
“Maybe smaller stomps.”
Pete lifted his foot.
Placed it down gently.
stomp.
It was still quite stompy.
Gluebert nodded.
“Controlled stomping. A refined art.”
He stepped forward.
STOMP.
Then slipped on the banana from earlier.
His legs went up.
His beard went sideways.
He landed on his bottom.
BOOMP.
Pete raised a sign.
FALL REPORT UPDATED.
The Grumblosaur’s eye opened.
It was huge.
Golden.
And very, very sleepy.
It stared at them.
Nobody moved.
Then the Great Grumblosaur spoke.
“Who,” it rumbled, “is stomping on my nap?”
Boxy swallowed.
“Sorry.”
Gluebert raised a hand.
“Technically, we were crossing with respect.”
Pete lifted a sign.
HE FELL.
The Grumblosaur blinked slowly.
It looked at Boxy.
At Gluebert.
At Pete.
At their giant colourful feet.
Then it yawned.
The yawn blew Gluebert backwards into a bush.
fwoomp.
Pete raised the same sign again.
FALL REPORT UPDATED AGAIN.
The Grumblosaur frowned.
“Everything is loud.”
Boxy nodded.
“It is.”
“Everything is wobbly.”
“Yes.”
“Everything keeps changing.”
Boxy looked down at the Wibbly Way.
Then back at the huge tired dinosaur.
“Yes,” he said softly. “It does.”
The Grumblosaur sighed.
A long, warm, windy sigh.
Several leaves gave up and flew away.
“I liked it before,” said the Grumblosaur. “When the ground stayed where I left it.”
Pete looked at Boxy.
Boxy looked at Pete.
Pete slowly lifted a sign.
SAME.
The stitched dinosaur climbed down from Pete’s shoulder and padded towards the Grumblosaur.
It was tiny beside him.
Tiny and wonky.
It chirped.
The Grumblosaur lowered its enormous head.
The little dinosaur pressed itself against his nose.
The Grumblosaur went very still.
“Oh,” he rumbled.
“What is that?”
Pete hesitated.
Then held up a sign.
I MADE IT.
The Grumblosaur blinked.
“It is not straight.”
Pete’s eyes narrowed.
Then he added:
IT STILL WORKS.
Boxy smiled.
The Grumblosaur looked at the stitched dinosaur.
Then at the glowing path.
Then at the giant feet.
“Hmm.”
He shifted his huge tail, slowly moving it aside.
The Wibbly Way opened.
“Go on then,” said the Grumblosaur. “But quieter.”
Boxy nodded.
“Thank you.”
Gluebert climbed out of the bush.
“I was merely resting.”
Pete held up a sign.
NO.
They crossed the clearing in tiny careful stomps.
stomp.
stomp.
stomp.
The Grumblosaur closed one eye.
Then opened it again.
“Actually,” he rumbled, “one proper stomp.”
Boxy turned.
“One?”
The Grumblosaur nodded.
“For luck.”
Boxy smiled.
He lifted one giant foam foot.
Gluebert lifted his.
Pete looked deeply annoyed.
Then lifted his too.
Together, they stomped.
STOMP.
The valley shook.
The racers cheered.
The flying dinosaur swooped.
The volcano burped a tiny puff of glitter.
The Grumblosaur smiled in his sleep.
A fourth sticker floated down.
It landed gently on the map.
The spiral shifted.
Beneath the dust, beneath the stone, lines began to glow.
Fossil spirals.
Ancient paths.
Old marks in the rock.
Boxy stared.
“The Wibbly Way was here before us.”
Gluebert nodded.
“Long before us.”
Pete looked at the glowing fossil lines.
Then at the path ahead.
His sign was quiet.
IT HAS ALWAYS BEEN UNFINISHED.
Boxy nodded.
“Maybe that’s how it grows.”
The path ahead shimmered.
Not straight.
Not neat.
Still wobbly.
But waiting.
Boxy looked back at the Grumblosaur, now snoring softly beneath the ferns.
He looked at the little racers.
The sky dancer.
The stitched dinosaur perched proudly on Pete’s shoulder.
Then he looked at the map.
“We don’t have to know what it’s becoming yet,” he said.
Gluebert smiled.
“Good. Because I was absolutely pretending.”
Pete raised a sign.
WE KNOW.
Behind them, the Great Grumblosaur gave one sleepy, satisfied snore.
The ancient stones glowed.
The path wriggled forward.
Still unfinished.
Still uncertain.
Still theirs.
Boxy smiled.
“Come on,” he said. “Before the volcano burps again.”
The volcano burped.
A spoon landed in Gluebert’s hat.
Pete raised a final sign.
TOO LATE.
And together, they followed the Wibbly Way.