Molly Moon & the Morphing Mystery

tapped Molly on the shoulder.

“This is it, Molly,” he whispered. “There’s the owl mountain. See? Now you sit down and eat this.” He passed Molly a snack with some sort of soy curd in it. “Cappuccino’s here. Everything is just fine.”

Molly obeyed in an exhausted daze. She ate her food and watched as Bas set about making a shelter.

She knew that tomorrow she was going to need all the energy she could muster. So as soon as the shelter was ready, Molly rolled out her sleeping bag and crept inside. A moment later, before the forest’s daytime animals had returned to their nests, dens, lairs, and burrows, Molly was fast asleep.

Less than a mile away, Miss Hunroe and her accomplices were finishing their dinner.

“Edible, at least,” Miss Hunroe said to Miss Speal, flipping her gold coin through her elegant fingers. Miss Oakkton surreptitiously wiped her finger across the sauce on her plate and then licked it, eyeing Miss Speal like a dog eyes an unwelcome guest.

Miss Teriyaki bobbed up to fetch her cake, and Miss Speal hurriedly collected the plates, her head bowed. Miss Hunroe tossed her coin and inspected it when it landed in her palm.

“Goodness knows we had worked up an appetite,” Miss Hunroe went on, glaring at Miss Speal. “You really are a Little Miss Butterfingers, aren’t you, squealy Spealy?” Everyone stared at Miss Speal, who continued clearing the table with her head low.

Miss Oakkton clicked her tongue in agreement. “Tttut, tttut.”

Then Miss Hunroe snapped. “I cannot believe you were so stupid! You make me sick. Can’t you feeeeeel where it is, Miss Speal?” she taunted. She sat still for a moment to compose herself. “Think again. Where did you drop the blue stone, Miss Speal?”

“Erm,” Miss Speal spluttered. “I’m—I’m not entirely sure. As I said, I think—I think it was up there.” She pointed to the ledge above the encampment.

“We know,” Miss Hunroe hissed. “Miss Oakkton and Miss Teriyaki have been crawling around up there all afternoon. Miss Speal, are you sure you are telling the truth?” Miss Hunroe pulled out a set of panpipes for the third time that evening and put them to her red lips. She blew gently, and a gorgeous sound like a playful mountain wind blowing through the trees filled the air. The gaggle of women gazed adoringly at Miss Hunroe, and a dreamy look filled their eyes. Miss Speal stared at the panpipes, transfixed.

“Tell me again, Miss Speal,” Miss Hunroe cajoled. “Did you really lose it, or have you hidden it because you love it so much?” Above them was a roll of thunder.

Miss Speal sighed. “I have not hidden it, I lost it.” She began to weep. “And I can sense that girl is near.”

Miss Hunroe blew suddenly into her instrument, making it shriek. “The girl may be near, Miss Speal. But she is dead. No one could have survived that plane crash.” She looked distainfully at the skinny, pale woman. “Imbecile.”

Miss Teriyaki stood holding out her chocolate cake. “At least some things are dependable, Miss Hunroe,” she said, worming. Miss Hunroe smiled, watching as Miss Teriyaki cut her a large slice. “You will never guess what we found today,” Miss Teriyaki went on, trying to change the subject. “We found a—”

“Does this cake have coffee in it?” Miss Hunroe asked suddenly. “You know I can’t have caffeine at this time of night or I won’t sleep.”

“Of course not,” Miss Teriyaki replied, passing her her dessert plate. Miss Hunroe prodded her fork into her cake. Miss Teriyaki continued, “It is a strange variety, but shows what an influence the Chinese had on Ecuador —”

“What are you talking about, Miss Teriyaki? Come on, spit it out.” Miss Hunroe raised her fork to her lips.

“Well, we found this—”

Miss Hunroe interrupted once more. “Does it have alcohol in it, Miss Teriyaki? You know I can’t abide alcohol in food.”

“Oh, no! Just pure chocolate.”

Miss Hunroe put a forkful of chocolate cake into her mouth.

“We found this—”

“Aaaaaaah!” Miss Hunroe spat and coughed, and chocolate cake went splattering all over the table. She rose from her seat furiously. “WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO DO, MISS TERIYAKI? POISON ME?” Miss Hunroe picked up her plate and Frisbeed it away from the table so that it flew through the air and clattered into a tree. “I’ve had enough of this foul cooking.” She glared at her assembled team. “If there is any more of it, the chef responsible will go and never, never…” Miss Hunroe’s voice dropped a few decibels as her anger raged. “NEVER COME BACK! Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Miss Hunroe,” the gathering whispered.

“Yes, Miss Hunroe,” Miss Teriyaki whimpered. She lifted her eyes dolefully. As she did, she caught the eye of Miss Speal. Miss Speal’s small brown eyes seemed to be laughing, as though what had just happened was the funniest thing in the world.

The next morning Molly was woken at dawn by a giant, long-beaked toucan squawking in a tree near her shelter. It had started to rain. Above, the sky was gray and rumbling with thunder again. Cappuccino the monkey chattered at her from a nearby tree, as if to say good morning. Bas was already up. When he saw Molly stir, he came over and put his blanket around her shoulders.

“You’ll need your energy today,” he said. Then he went to his rucksack. Taking a large, leathery, bowl-shaped leaf, he put something from his bag into it. He added some sort of juice from a bottle and then came back with this forest bowl full of sticky, cold porridge. Molly ate her stodgy breakfast. Bas watched her like a teacher might watch a precious student. Molly knew that he believed everything she had told him about Miss Hunroe. It now seemed to her that, as though she was a prizefighter about to enter the ring or a warrior on whose victory many people’s lives depended, he was treating Molly with the utmost respect.