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  PEMBRICK’S CREATUREPEDIA

  The characters and events in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to actual persons or events is coincidental.

  Text copyright © 2014 by Andrew Peterson

  Interior illustrations copyright © 2021 by Andrew Peterson

  Interior illustrations by Aedan Peterson

  Cover design and illustrations by Stephen Crotts

  Interior design by Andrea Lau

  All rights reserved.

  Published in the United States by WaterBrook, an imprint of Random House, a division of Penguin Random House LLC.

  Originally published in hardcover and in different form in the United States by Rabbit Room Press in 2014.

  WaterBrook® and its deer colophon are registered trademarks of Penguin Random House LLC.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Names: Pembrick, Ollister B., author. | Peterson, Andrew, 1974– | Peterson, Aedan, illustrator.

  Title: Pembrick’s Creaturepedia / by Ollister B. Pembrick ; translated from the original by Andrew Peterson ; [illustrations by Aedan Peterson].

  Description: Skreean edition. | Colorado Springs : WaterBrook, 2021. | Series: The Wingfeather saga

  Identifiers: LCCN 2021013464 | ISBN 9780525653646 (hardcover) | ISBN 9780525653653 (ebook)

  Subjects: CYAC: Monsters—Fiction. | Fantasy.

  Classification: LCC PZ7.1.P44525 Pe 2021 | DDC [Fic]—dc23

  LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2021013464

  Ebook ISBN 9780525653653

  waterbrookmultnomah.com

  a_prh_5.7.0_c0_r0

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Introduction

  Things the Reader Should Know as He or She Peruses This Tome

  Armadiller (Skreean)

  Bomnubble (Skreean)

  Bomnubble (Symian)

  Bumpy Digtoad

  Cave Blat

  Chorkney

  Daggerfish

  Diggle (Quill)

  Diggle (Snapping)

  Dragonmole

  Fazzle Dove

  Fendril

  Ferno Lizard

  Flabbit

  Gambloat

  Gargan Rockroach

  Geef

  Glipperfish

  Grobblin

  Gryfendril (Horned)

  Guggler

  Gulpswallow

  Gunkee

  Hound (Horned)

  Hound (Saggy)

  Huppitous Gleeze

  Ickaw

  Limberwolf

  Midgeon

  Octurtle

  Oiple

  Plonkfish

  Raggant (Eight-Eyed)

  Ridgerunner

  Sea Dragon

  Selbril

  Skonk

  Snickbuzzard

  Snidge

  Snottamus

  Spike-Eared Vargax (Skreean)

  Squeeblin (Fuzzy)

  Sweeft

  Tahala

  Thwap (Garden)

  Thwap (Mustachioed)

  Thwap (Tailhanded)

  Thwapperfly

  Toe Nibbler

  Toothy Cow

  Tricorn

  Troll (Glaggish)

  Wexter

  Yimp

  Field Notes

  About the Author

  A Message from Andrew Peterson, the Bard and Translator

  Introduction

  Since the Second Epoch, the creatures of Aerwiar have grown more and more corrupt, more and more dangerous, and (I would argue) more and more beautiful. I believe all three are true, sometimes regarding the same wild beast! A case in point: the squeeblin. And not just any squeeblin, but the various species of squeeblins—from the fuzzy squeeblin of the lower Stony Mountains to the softish squeeblin of Plontst, to the verbose squeeblin of the Linnard Woodlands. Each type of this curious curiosity is wonderful to espy, whether it be yellow, speckled, or chartreuse (very rare!), glorying in the moon’s rays! But let the espying soul beware! The serene squeeblish countenance belies its deadly fleshhooks and its insolent heart. It is corrupt. It is dangerous. And yet, it is undeniably pulchritudinous of aspect! Such, alas, are many of the Maker’s makings scattered across the lands of Aerwiar.

  My uncle, a greengrocer of the Shining Isle (a man I shall refer to here as The Gobbled, or, more plainly, Uncle Bahb) met a grisly end one day on a vegetationary expedition to the Woes of Shreve, where he happened upon a stand of fartichoke plants (delicious! aromatic!) and was beset most misfortunately by a nesting blazzrod. How long might The Gobbled have lived had he only known never to harvest fartichokes during the Fifthmoon a mere fortnight after a sandstorm! He would no doubt be a grocer still. As it is, he is merely grosser, if you will, as he decomposes in the bellies of the blazzrod hatchlings. The Gobbled’s death demanded my dedication to the work that you now hold in your ungobbled hands.

  How many lives might be saved by this humble submission to the bestiaries of the age, I cannot say. I can say, however, that no owner of this Creaturepedia can lay blame on anyone but himself if he should, in flippant disregard of the warnings herein, harvest fartichokes after a sandstorm at the wrong time of year. His last thoughts may be, Alas! I should have hearkened to Ollister Bahbert Pembrick!

  And so, reader, should you.

  Hearken, that is.

  To me.

  I have traveled extensively these many years, at great personal cost—for certain of my own parts have been gobbled. Such is the price of exploration, of discovery, of cataloguing the creepers and crawlers and squatters and chewers and gnawers and hatchers and lickers and gazers and sneakers and squeakers and lopers and leapers and lie-in-waiters and human-haters and spitters and flappers and lurkers and leakers and sneakers (Yes! “Sneakers” again, for they abound!) and grinders and finders and draggers and blinders and clenchers and binders and winders (of tail) and wrenchers (of innards) and munchers and grinners and flexers and scrapers, and did I mention sneakers?

  Count yourself fortunate to have happened upon this volume. Count yourself fortunate that you did not happen upon the remains of Uncle Bahb that day in the Woes of Shreve. Count yourself membered and not dismembered, remembered and not regurgitated. With this Creaturepedia close at hand, you may walk the world of Aerwiar calm and/or composed, rather than embalmed and/or decomposing.

  Have a nice day.

  —Ollister Bahbert Pembrick, esq., the partly maimed,

  master of disguisery, president of the Occasional

  Greengrocers’ Alliance of Pennybridge, Isle of Anniera

  Things the Reader Should Know as He or She Peruses This Tome

  There are a few things the reader should know as he or she peruses this tome.

  First, the entries in this book are arranged in alphabetical order, rather than in order of evil or appetite-for-human. Do not, therefore, assume that just because the bumpy digtoad appears early in the book that it is necessarily less wicked than the squeeblin, which comes later. (Although, in this case, the digtoad happens to be much less evil than a squeeblin.)

  In an earlier edition of this volume, there was a distinct change in artistic style from time to time. As you will soon learn, this was due to the woeful fact that my right hand was gobbled during my expedition and I was forced to relearn sketchery with my left. My commitment to you, reader, is such that I could not allow my lack of domin
ant hand to dominate the excellence of the finished work, so I have spent the intervening years honing (tirelessly!) my skills that I might once more have dominion of hand.

  Lastly, this book is by no means an exhaustive compilation of the many wondrous creatures of Aerwiar. I focused primarily on the most dangerous beasts, though there are some benevolent ones described in these pages as well (thank the Maker!). My first expedition was to document only the animals of Skree. If enough copies of this book are sold (and enough lives ungobbled!), then I will travel first to the Jungles of Plontst to document the trollish lands, and then I shall walk the width and breadth of Dang—from the Green Hollows to the Woes of Shreve to the Killridge Mountains—that I might fill further Creaturepedias, and that you might not be munched.

  O.B.P.

  ARMADILLER (Skreean)

  CLASSIFICATION: loper/lurker

  I happened upon the Skreean armadiller whilst bellying my way through a pile of leafmud on the twentieth day of Firstmoon. I remember that it was coldish outside, but not too cold to keep me in my warmish sleepingsack, when I heard a shuffling, gruffling noise outside my tent. By the time I had skivvied and emerged from the shelter, the shuffling gruffler was gone, but I followed a faint disturbance of earth for a short distance, bellied gently (so gently!) through a depression of leafmud (heedless of its possible infestation of geefs) and beheld the male armadiller gruffling (and shuffling) through the woods.

  WEAKNESS: The Skreean armadiller’s main weakness is chocolate. If none of that is at hand (as it wasn’t that night when I went leafmud bellying), its secondary weakness is belching sounds. I’m not certain, since I’ve never beheld a female with my own eyes, but I suspect a hearty belch reminds the armadiller of its mother, or perhaps sets it in mind to seek out a mate. It turned on me shortly after I spotted it. I belched (a necessary skill in the wildlands of Skree) and it struck a contemplative pose that was meant, I believe, to appeal to any onlooking female armadillers. I took the opportunity to flee.

  TASTE: Like henmeat.

  DEMEANOR: Casual. Fetching.

  Skreean Armadiller

  BOMNUBBLE (Skreean)

  CLASSIFICATION: grinder/grabber/clencher/lie-in-waiter/gnawer

  Behold the furry paunch. Behold the sloping shoulders, the hidden eyes (mysterious!), the underbite (correctable!), the long and pointy teeth. Behold the bomnubble. On the shoulders of the Mountains of Stone (the Stony Mountains), I climbed, my only disguise a coat of gray paint with flecks of white and off-white. I braved the Stonies in search of the very thing I found. The bomnubble huffs and wheezes as it walks. It kills its prey and drags its prize to a den (which is typically below the snowline of the mountain), where the beast grinds and gnaws what it has clenched and grabbed. I saw it done, camouflaged as I was, from within the very den, where I stood against the wall. Only when the bomnubble was fast asleep on a pile of bones did I retrieve my sketchbook from my pouch (leather!) and scribble the thing’s likeness.

  WEAKNESS: None. Unless you count its appetite, which was my salvation that day in the den, for it woke from its restless slumber, sniffed the air, and set out for more munchables, which allowed me time to make my escape. Also, its eyesight is below average.

  TASTE: Unknown.

  DEMEANOR: Uncaring. Aloof. Gobblesome.

  Skreean Bomnubble

  BOMNUBBLE (Symian)

  CLASSIFICATION: flexer/muncher/scraper

  The Symian bomnubble had no business either flexing, munching, or scraping in North Glipwood Forest. Aghast, I ducked behind a fallen oak and peered at the misplaced bomnubble as it hurried past. Many have questioned my eyesight (and my sanity!) because a Symian bomnubble has never before (or since!) been spied on the continent of Skree. I hunch that the beast escaped from a Symian trading ship or (worse!) was loosed here. Maker knows what devious design caused the Symian pirates to capture the beast alive in the first place. There is always a chance, I suppose, that it stowed away (as I have, I confess!) in order to make the voyage without paying for it. Where the beast lopes now, I cannot say. But it was there, on Uncle Bahb’s grave, do I swear it. Take heed.

  WEAKNESS: Napping. Sunshine. Sailing, evidently.

  TASTE: Unknown, except among the Pirates of Symia. I asked them (warily!), but they wouldn’t say.

  DEMEANOR: Hurried. Distracted. Devious.

  Symian Bomnubble

  BUMPY DIGTOAD

  CLASSIFICATION: hatcher/licker/squelcher

  Wait long enough in the forests of Glipwood, the Linnard Woodlands, or Bytroph Forest, and you will espy the bumpy digtoad emerging from its lidded, earthen hovel. Fazzle doves, rodents, and all manner of insects are its prey, and if the beasts had teeth in their flappulous mouths, they would prey on humans as well. I hung from a tree, sketchpad in hand, to draw this creature, and before I knew it, those bulbous eyes locked onto me and its tongue shot out like an eager, oozing snake, wrapped itself around my right hand, and jerked me from my perch. I was in its mouth (warm!) for the passing of seven ticks before I squirmed out again, sticky but intact. The digtoad squelched away dejectedly.

  WEAKNESS: Lack of teeth. Unable to climb trees.

  TASTE: Like henmeat.

  DEMEANOR: Slothful (except in tongue!). Dejected when unable to consume its prey.

  Bumpy Digtoad

  CAVE BLAT

  CLASSIFICATION: flapper/mewler/biter/hider

  Cave blats, I have read, received their name because their large gray eyes and jowly countenances are so unpleasant to behold that it is common, upon seeing one, to think, I wish that blat were in a cave somewhere, so that I might not have to look at it. Alas, there are few caves in Glipwood Forest, so I was forced again and again to see the blats and cringe. I had the distinct displeasure, while flootching through a creek in a cave, of not seeing a cave blat but actually feeling one with my bare hands. In that moment I thought, I wish this blat were not in this cave at all, so that I might not have to touch it.

  WEAKNESS: As hideous as the cave blats appear, they have remarkably few defenses, except for their flapping. Their “wings” aren’t really wings as much as they are fleshy, wrinkly skinflaps, which the blats plap all over you. The best defense is simply to poke the plappy flesh with a stick. The blats can’t stand it.

  TASTE: Like garden thwap.

  DEMEANOR: Unreclusive, unfortunately. Plappish. Foolhardy.

  Cave Blat

  CHORKNEY

  CLASSIFICATION: flapper/fighter/bearer/squawker

  The chorkney is among the most helpful and waddly creatures in Skree. The largest land birds in Aerwiar, chorkneys are loyal to the point of death and have aided warriors of the Ice Prairies in battle for at least the last two epochs—not just by bearing warriors into battle, but because in the unfortunate event that chorkneys are killed in battle, they taste like henmeat and one can feed seventeen sad people. This chorkney was saddled and ready for an outing in the prairies north of Kimera when I paid its rider four (cold!) apples for the pleasure of sketching his noble mount.

  WEAKNESS: Few.

  TASTE: Like henmeat.

  DEMEANOR: Attentive. Obedient. Courageous.

  Chorkney

  DAGGERFISH

  CLASSIFICATION: lurker/stabber

  It is difficult to sketch a live daggerfish. While this may be obvious to the discerning reader, it was not to me, as I wasted many reams of parchment of many kinds, only to discover that none function properly underwater. Not only that, my inkwell, once submerged, offered up its ink to the Blapp without hesitation, and my quill became useless. Not only that, I found that, even whilst I breathed through a reedy tube for hours at a time, no daggerfish could be trusted to remain still long enough for an accurate sketching. Not only that, it is difficult to think about sketching when one’s thigh has been impaled by the very daggerfish one is trying to sketch. Still,
my recovery in the Torrboro Infirmary gave me ample time to reflect upon and to sketch what you now behold.

  WEAKNESS: Thighs. If one wants to attract a squall of daggerfish, thighs are most effective.

  TASTE: Fishy. Blappy.

  DEMEANOR: Patient. Curious. Aggressive.

  Daggerfish

  DIGGLE (Quill)

  CLASSIFICATION: poker/stabber/snuffler

  I was aghast when I first came upon a quill diggle—but not because of the quills it flung at me and which lodged in my shins severally. My aghastiness was due to the diggle’s unaccountable likeness to my dear departed uncle Bahb! Had I not been caught unawares by the similarity of countenance, I might have escaped unscathed, but I stood in shock for a moment (several!) too long and paid for it with punctured shin skin. Once I became familiar with the spectre of Bahb leering at me from every diggle’s face, however, I learned how to hunt, skin, and consume the unsavory beasts at will.

  WEAKNESS: Belly. Squishy face.

  TASTE: Like plonkfish.

  DEMEANOR: Patronizing. Annoyed.

  Quill Diggle

  DIGGLE (Snapping)

  CLASSIFICATION: snapper/snorter/crawler

  For seven weeks I dwelt on the coast of the Shard Harbor, near Fort Lamendron. Soldiers of the Skreean army lazed about, burping and bellyaching about their drills (which were, to my estimation, a farce—I have seen the warriors of the Green Hollows, the Wanderers of the Woes, and the glorious Annieran Countrymen at their training, and I can attest that these Dangish peoples are formidable and fierce; however, these Skreeans seem to think themselves invincible, removed as they are from Dang and unchallenged as they have been for an epoch. I fear that if an enemy invaded, this sham of an army would serve up its weapons without a fight). I ate plonkfish and sheltered under a craggy overhang, refining my sketches and editing the very entries you now read! One day, I set about my business as usual—I sat on a curvy, porous rock, sharpened my pencil, and opened my sketchbook with the intention only of darkening a few lines, when I had the unmistakable sensation of being watched. After some minutes in sweaty fear, I spied the watcher and was relieved. The snapping diggle, cousin of the quill diggle, looks less like my uncle Bahb and more like his wife, Aunt Sewsin—and was therefore much more hideous. The diggle perched on a rock three mengths (for a definition of “mength,” see FENDRIL) away and preened as if it knew it was posing for a portrait. Just as I completed my sketch, a Skreean soldier shot the beast (sad!) with an arrow and cooked it up for the rest of his lazy, untrained, cowardly company. Methinks an invasion would do these “soldiers” some good.