The Lofty Husk strode over to a nearby tree, stopped before it, then opened her mouth. Fox flinched at the rows of bone-bright teeth, but the panther simply breathed upon the bark and golden dust poured from her mouth.
A satchel appeared at the foot of the tree. Fox blinked. Had it been there all along, camouflaged, or had the Lofty Husk conjured it out of thin air?
‘The greatest explorers in this kingdom have tried to find the Forever Fern – and failed,’ Goldpaw said. ‘I tried and so did the other three Lofty Husks. But we failed, too. Then the prophecy told us that only those from far-off shores can unearth the fern’s whereabouts and your arrival here leads me to believe that it is speaking of you two. But you will only survive if you listen to me.’
The panther sat back on her hind legs, her large tail curled round her, and looked the twins square in the eye. ‘Don’t get lost, don’t get tricked and be careful what you eat.’
She breathed more golden dust that fell about the twins, making Fox sneeze, before it vanished completely. ‘That breath will protect you from the sun’s glare and from the sticklebugs’ bites,’ Goldpaw said. ‘The objects inside this satchel will help with everything else.’
Fox eyed the crumpled leather bag. ‘Why is there only one satchel? There are two of us.’
‘As I said before,’ Goldpaw replied, ‘you must work together.’
Fox threw Fibber a filthy look and snatched up the satchel. She unbuckled it and shook out the contents: a blank piece of parchment, a small mirror and – most disappointing of all – a spoon.
‘You’re sending us off into the jungle armed with a SPOON?!’ she cried.
Beside her, Fibber was looking increasingly worried. ‘What about spears and stuff? And maps?’
‘The parchment is a map,’ Goldpaw answered. ‘An indescribably rare one called a flickertug map. It is impossible for Lofty Husks or Unmappers to cross from kingdom to kingdom, but the rulers of Jungledrop, Rumblestar, Crackledawn and Silvercrag can communicate with one another through enchanted mirror rings and I have it on good authority from my peers that this flickertug map is, in fact, the last of its kind in all the Unmapped Kingdoms.’
Fox picked the map up and then jumped as a strange silver glitter shimmered across the surface of the parchment. But no places or words appeared.
‘You have to tell the flickertug map where you want to go,’ Goldpaw said. ‘It would not yield the whereabouts of Morg’s stronghold or the Forever Fern when asked, but that might simply be because the wrong people have been asking…’
Fox felt an unexpected shiver of excitement fizz through her.
‘And the mirror?’ Fibber asked, turning it over in his hands. ‘What’s that for?’
‘The jungle is full of tricksters,’ Goldpaw replied. ‘Its magical creatures, animals and plants survive because they are masters of disguise: they can hide in exposed places; they can dissolve before your eyes; they can disappear without trace. But, with a doubleskin mirror, you can compete. Just hold the mirror up to your surroundings and your skin, hair and clothes will adopt the exact colours and patterns of your setting: your ear might resemble a leaf, your nose a twig, your tunic the trunk of a tree. Remember, though, that the doubleskin’s magic only lasts a few minutes and you can only use it once before its powers vanish altogether – so you must make it count.’
Fox eyed the mirror mistrustfully. ‘I’ll believe it when I see it.’
‘And, finally, the fablespoon,’ Goldpaw said. ‘Hold it above a plant and the details of that plant will flash up inside the head of the spoon: its name, its character and whether it is food or poison.’ She paused and looked at Fox. ‘But it only works if you say please. Keep these items safe and—’
The panther’s ears swivelled back towards the tunnel. She stood up quickly, her fur on end.
Fibber spun round. ‘What – what’s happening?’
Footsteps sounded in the tunnel and then out rushed an Unmapper – a man this time, with a leaf-tousled beard, raindrop tattoos on his ears and fear plastered across his face. ‘It’s Iggy,’ he panted. ‘He’s gone!’
‘Gone?’ Goldpaw growled. ‘I sent him home and watched him leave for Timbernook.’
The Unmapper shook his head. ‘He never arrived. His parents are scouring Timbernook as we speak, but –’ he looked down – ‘there are monkey tracks near his house. They don’t look like the tracks the silvermonkeys leave. These ones are bigger, and spiked where claws might be. And they lead north. Towards the Bonelands…’
Goldpaw paced back and forth by the edge of the lagoon. ‘We always feared that Morg would, eventually, turn her attention to Unmappers, hoping to steal more magic from them than she can from thunderberries and animals. And now it seems that terrible day has come. Oh, poor Iggy! The terror he must be feeling. And it was on my watch. But for Morg’s Midnights to have broken through the phoenix magic into the heart of the jungle –’ she shook her head – ‘that means the harpy’s power is reaching its height. She will be on the move from the Bonelands soon, so it is not weeks we have left before Jungledrop falls but days!’
For a second, Fox felt a surge of guilt. It was because of her and Fibber that Iggy had been late making his way home. But then she remembered that feeling sorry
