Molly Moon & the Morphing Mystery

shelter and found a cave. He’d laid the parachutes out like sleeping bags. Then they’d sat close together and stared at the dark night, listening to the creatures of the jungle. It was dawn before they fell asleep, and an afternoon sun was high in the sky when they woke.

For the rest of the day, the hot sun shone down on the children’s clothes that Micky had put on rocks to dry. Lily sat in her underwear, huddled and scared, while Micky focused his mind. He knew that they might not meet another human for weeks and that it was essential that he find a way for them to stay alive in the forest.

He had read many adventure stories. In fact, he had read both fictional and factual accounts of survival stories, set on mountains and out at sea, in deserts and in the jungle. Even though it was scary to be in such strange terrain, with no knowledge of what plants around them were poisonous or whether there were dangerous insects or snakes about, he found the whole business quite exciting.

Micky knew that he and Lily might have to eat grubs and insects, and there was fruit on the trees. That afternoon he spent a lot of time foraging and digging.

“Why don’t we just walk somewhere and get help?” Lily called out from her nestlike place under a tree.

“Walk where?” Micky replied. “We don’t know how big this forest is or if we will find help.” He pulled an orange tuber out of the ground and, brushing the soil off it, put it on a pile of other roots.

“I am not eating that rubbish.” Lily crossed her arms belligerently.

“You might have to,” Micky retorted. “And Lily, you should try to drink as much as you can. It’s in the leaves, look, there’s tons of it everywhere. You may be getting altitude sickness. You see, we’re very high up.” He tapped the altimeter. “We are at about three thousand feet, and that can make some people feel funny.”

“I don’t feel funny. But you look funny.”

“Ha, ha. Why don’t you come and help me dig for potatoes?”

“No way. I’ll get dirty,” she said, taking her clothes from the rocks. “Dry clean only.”

Micky laughed. “Dry clean only? Are they allowed to go through the washing machine of a whirlwind storm? Come on, Lily, get a grip. Come and help.”

But Lily shook her head and went to sit back under her tree.

That night, Micky lit a fire. He cooked the roots, and though they were black with char, Lily, now starving hungry, helped him gobble them up. The smoke from the campfire kept the insects at bay. And as a modicum of comfort crept back into their lives, both Micky and Lily felt a little bit better.

“Well done for remembering the matches,” Lily said, nodding toward the fire. She reached into her parka pocket and passed Micky something small and silvery. “Chocolate?” she offered.

“You’re joking.”

“No, always carry it. Never know when you might need it.” Micky took the chocolate gratefully, and they both unwrapped the sweets. “Mmm. Tastes a million times better here, doesn’t it?” said Lily.

“Yup,” Micky said. “Thanks.”

“No, it’s me who should say thanks,” said Lily. “I’m really sorry. I’ll try not to be so useless tomorrow.”

“Don’t worry,” said Micky. “It was the shock of the jump. Crazy, wasn’t it?”

“Really frightening.” Lily shivered. “I think we ought to start looking for the others tomorrow.”

“Agreed,” Micky replied, rubbing his eyes and yawning.

“Do you think they’re still alive?” Lily asked. Micky shrugged. Inside he had a strange feeling that Molly and Petula were all right, since they seemed to have a habit of falling on their feet. “If we use our compasses and follow the coordinates to the stones, I’m sure we’ll find them. Now let’s get some sleep. Yam for breakfast?”

Lily groaned. “Again?” She closed her eyes. “Chocolate croissant!” she murmured dreamily.

“Sausage roll,” Micky replied.

“Peanut butter and jelly sandwich,” Lily suggested.

“Chocolate cupcakes.”

“Grilled cheese sandwich…”

Miss Speal sat on a little wooden stool in some bushes high above the camp. She liked this place because it was very private, and yet it had a good view of everything that was happening in the clearing below. She pulled out her blue stone and then hugged it to her chest. “Oh, my dear stone. What shall I do without you?” She began to weep. “I shall miss you.” Then she sat up. She’d heard a noise and voices.

“I vill put a nice hidden trap here,” Miss Oakkton was saying. “Then it’s not too far to walk to check it.”

“And a pit would be good here,” Miss Teriyaki said, slapping away an insect.

Miss Speal jumped up in alarm. She tried to think whether she was doing anything that she might get in trouble for. She was doing nothing. That could get her into Miss Hunroe’s bad books. She quickly shoved her blue stone back into her pocket and, making haste, pushed past the bushes to take the shortcut back to the camp.

The blue stone lay on the ground by the wooden stool. It had not quite dropped into Miss Speal’s pocket. The pocket’s flap had obstructed its entry, and as the woman had hurried away, the movement had tossed out the stone.

Twenty-seven

Petula trotted after Canis, who moved swiftly up the mountain paths. They had been walking since before dawn.

“How much farther, Canis?” Petula called after him. Hearing her panting, Canis stopped.