Heckle let out a squawk, which, to Fox, sounded suspiciously like a laugh. ‘The tantrum tree is feeling the need to express itself. It isn’t happy with such impolite behaviour.’
‘SHUT UP!’ Fox yelled as the tree thumped its branches down left, right and centre until there was such a maze of prickles surrounding the twins that they couldn’t get away.
The tree had them trapped and it was only a matter of time before one of its swipes would knock them clean out. Fibber flattened himself to the ground as two branches thumped down either side of him. Then Fox found herself remembering what Goldpaw had said about tantrum trees.
‘Fibber!’ she panted. ‘We have to say something to this tree for it to let us past! Something polite, only I can’t remember what!’ She yelped as a branch smashed down just beyond her, spraying soil and leaves everywhere. ‘What do you say when you want to get past someone? MOVE?! BOG OFF?!’
The tree didn’t move or bog off. It simply ramped up the walloping.
And it was only when Fibber staggered up and screamed: ‘Excuse me!’ that the branches of the tantrum tree stalled for a second.
Fox cottoned on straight away. ‘Excuse me! Excuse me! EXCUSE ME!’ she roared.
The words felt strange in her mouth, as if they didn’t quite fit, but she and Fibber kept yelling them over and over again because the tantrum tree was now winding in its branches, like a retreating tide, until it stood quietly as if it hadn’t, seconds before, very nearly knocked them out.
The twins edged away and Fox gasped as the tree lowered a branch one last time. But it didn’t try to wallop either of them. It simply patted Fibber on the back, then tucked itself back into place again.
Fox lingered for a second below this branch, in case it decided to stoop down and pat her, too, but it remained where it was. After all, it had been Fibber who had remembered the words excuse me. Not her. For a second, Fox felt a familiar jealousy burn inside her, but then she consoled herself with the realisation that leading businesswomen probably didn’t hang around waiting for hugs. They probably just carried on stamping their way to the top.
Fibber looked at Fox, and she thought he was going to give her one of his horribly smug grins, but then his face changed completely and he laughed. ‘That was close, wasn’t it? I’m not sure Goldpaw would’ve been too impressed if we’d been flattened by a tantrum tree this early on in the quest!’
Unsure quite how to respond to this, Fox huffed. Then the flickertug map pulled her on once more and, abandoning all thoughts of a conversation, the twins hurried forward again. Heckle flew above them and this time neither Fox nor Fibber shouted at the parrot. Heckle had, through her insistence on speaking the tantrum tree’s feelings aloud, reminded Fox about Goldpaw’s words. And perhaps, if the twins could manage not to throttle the parrot as they journeyed on, they could use her as a guide on their quest.
As they made their way through the Elderwood, Heckle sobbed every time they passed a drained riverbed, a blackened patch of rainforest or a drooping tree: she couldn’t bear it that the phoenix magic keeping Jungledrop alive was now slipping away and that those responsible were holding Iggy captive. But Fox blotted out the parrot’s weeping, focusing instead on moving as quickly as possible. She didn’t want to be stuck in this creepy place a moment longer than necessary. After a while, though, she slowed. She had a stitch, she was badly out of breath and she knew that if she didn’t eat something soon she’d probably keel over and faint. She glanced up at the tiny gaps between the trees to see glimpses of dark sky. They’d have to think about finding shelter for the night if they didn’t reach the Constant Whinge soon.
Finally, the map eased its tugging until it came to a stop at the foot of a tree whose branches were laden with fruits the size and shape of apples but the colour of plums. Fox lifted the fablespoon out of her satchel, said ‘please’ (having been reminded to do so by Heckle) and held it up to one of the purple fruits. Words started to form inside the head of the spoon:
NAME: OMNIFRUIT TREE
CHARACTER: SAFE, STEADY AND SATISFYING
RISKS UPON EATING AN OMNIFRUIT: NONE
Fox reached out to pick one, but before she could Fibber blurted, ‘You know I don’t like heights, but we need to climb this tree and get up onto those unicycles on the Hustleway – now.’
Fox glanced up. She’d been so focused on the fruits, she hadn’t noticed that the flickertug map had led them to transport, too. She looked at Fibber. ‘Why? What have you seen?’
‘A whole bunch of trunklets –’ he pointed into the distance – ‘and I’m not confident we can outrun them in moccasin boots.’
Fox thought back to the trunklets on the train who, Tedious Niggle had said, could chew through stone. Chewing through eleven-year-olds was probably not beyond them. ‘Do you think they’ve spotted us?’
Fibber shook his head. ‘They seem very focused on what they’re doing.’
Fox craned her neck to get a better look, but her brother was taller than her and he could see more. ‘Which is?’
Fibber shuddered. ‘Biting trees.’ He glanced at the fablespoon in Fox’s hand. ‘We can eat up in the branches. Come on. Let’s go.’
He lifted an elbow to barge Fox out of the way, then seemed to think better of it and hung back, even though it was clear he was terrified of the trunklets nearby.
Fox climbed on up the tree, her eyes peeled for Morg’s dreaded monkeys. Although she said nothing in reply to
