is a delicacy. I wonder whether pug tastes good.”
“Hah! Well, I’ll let zat be
Petula looked at the upside-down visions of the ghastly women. Miss Oakkton’s body smelled of rotten eggs. She came closer and closer. Then, lifting up her knife mercilessly, she cut the trap rope. Petula dropped to the ground with a thud.
For a moment she lay still, winded and unable to breathe, and frightened that she wouldn’t ever be able to breathe again. Then she felt a stabbing pain in her ribs.
Miss Oakkton bundled her into a bag already full of dead rabbits and birds. And, half suffocated by fur and feather, Petula was carried down to the camp.
As though she were something as disposable as firewood, she was unloaded into a small, dark hut. Petula curled up into a ball and, spitting out her blue stone, for the second time that week, she fell unconscious.
Twenty-eight
Molly was very, very hot. The heat of the Ecuadorean sun had soaked through the clouds above, turning the forest into a steamy sauna. Bas walked at a fast pace along the tree-lined, branch-covered pathways, and it was exhausting keeping up with him. Cappuccino swung through the branches of trees behind them, stopping occasionally to pick fruit from the trees. The air was thin, with less oxygen to breathe, and so Molly began to feel light-headed.
“Are you okay?” Bas asked. “It is difficult to walk in the high altitude because your body isn’t used to it.”
Molly nodded. “I’m fine.” She didn’t want to hold up the trip, and so she walked on without complaining. Her body grew damp with sweat, and she was glad she was wearing cool clothes. She thought back to when she used to go to school and how she’d grumble about cross-country runs. This walk was ten times as hard, yet she was doing it without complaining, doing it because she needed to. The back of her calves and the muscles in her thighs ached, but Molly gritted her teeth and kept going. The sun was starting to burn her skin. But she didn’t care. She had to get to Bas’s viewing tower.
Every so often Bas would stop, and they’d have a drink. He had brought with him a bag of energy-boosting dried fruit, and while they rested, they sat in silence, nibbling the fruit sticks. Cappuccino would sit in the trees a little way off with all his attention trained on Molly.
After a three-hour walk, Bas stopped.
“We’re here.”
Ahead of them, camouflaged because it was painted green, Molly saw a metal structure.
“Hope you like heights,” Bas joked. And he led Molly to the crane’s steps. They were set like a ladder into it.
Ten minutes later, Molly and Bas were up at the crane’s top, standing in a boxlike viewing platform. Cappuccino had nipped up ahead and was already chewing a flower he had found.
“Wow!” Molly said, cupping her eyes with her hand and looking out. “The view is incredible from up here!” She could see for miles and miles over a sea of treetops. She saw far-off mountains that seemed to touch the highest clouds in the sky.
“That’s a volcano,” Bas commented, pointing to a beautiful white mountaintop in the distance. He had pulled out his binoculars and was studying the forest. His gaze moved over the distant jungle, swinging back and forth as he thoroughly checked to see whether he could see any signs of life. “There’s the plane,” he said.
Molly looked through the binoculars. Far away, she could see a gash in the trees and what looked like a charcoal gray whale parked there.
“We were lucky to get out,” Molly commented. She scrutinized the forest for evidence of parachutes and the others. “I wonder where they landed?” She sighed and sadly put down the binoculars. “Petula can sense where I am. Wish I could feel them. I’m so worried about them, Bas.”
“Cheer up,” said Bas. “Listen, you never know, maybe Petula can feel Micky, too. After all, you are twins. Maybe that’s where she went this morning. Maybe she’s already found him.”
Bas flapped open a silk flag. “Let’s hang this red warning flag, and if they’re up a tree they’ll see it. Look at those monkeys,” he said, trying to change the subject. “And those insects.” Then he pointed to the northwest. “And there, Miss Molly, though you can’t see them, are the stones you are interested in.”
“Really?” Molly gulped.
“Yes. See those far-off crags shaped like owls’ heads?”
“Yes.”
“Well, the stones are under them. It’s going to take us the rest of the day to get there. Are you ready?”
Molly gulped again. “I am,” she said.
And so they started walking again, their paths passing over pretty tree-covered humps of land that undulated up and down the sides of the mountain. The cover of foliage and leaves above was often so dense that only spots of the cloudy sky could be seen, and their path was patched with mottled light. It was like walking through a strange forest palace. Sounds were muffled, though every now and then bird cry pierced the air. At other times the forest and mists cleared, and wonderful views of the cloud forest stretched out green and leafy below and beyond. Walking uphill was strenuous, but walking downhill was hard, too. Molly’s knees felt like they were going to buckle and bend back on themselves. On and on they walked, with Cappuccino hopping casually behind them. Molly remembered what Forest, her hippie friend, had once said to her.
“I will keep walking. I will keep walking,” Molly hummed to herself. “One step at a time.” The forest paths became thinner and overgrown. On and on they walked. Hours passed. The light started to fade. And then Bas
