Fox watched as the sun set beyond the furthest trees, leaving a flame-orange sky in its wake, and she thought of their journey so far. A lot of people had been surprisingly helpful: Tedious Niggle and the Here and There Express had got them to Jungledrop; Iggy had kept them safe from Morg’s Midnights; Goldpaw had given them a satchel full of magical objects; the boglet had helped conjure the Constant Whinge; Doogie Herbalsneeze had given them pucklesmidge syrup; Total Shambles had whisked them to safety in the nick of time; even Heckle had proved useful with the tantrum tree and the omnifruits.
Fox had always been told that great things were achieved by individuals stamping on and jostling others out of the way, but that had not proved to be the case here in Jungledrop. Perhaps, Fox thought, it would be worth mentioning a few of the Jungledrop inhabitants in her victory speech to the press, which she would deliver from the penthouse suite of the Neverwrinkle Hotel while holding a glass of whatever extremely successful people drank when celebrating (bubbling wine?) and with her proud parents looking on.
Heckle twitched in her lap. ‘Heckle is a little nervous that we are heading so far north, but hopes we are getting closer to Iggy?’
At the mention of the north, Fox shifted. Didn’t the Bonelands lie in the north of the kingdom? Surely the flickertug map wasn’t demanding they go there?
From behind her, Fibber said: ‘Goldpaw told us a Lofty Husk called Spark would be patrolling the ravine that separates the Bonelands from the rest of Jungledrop. So, even if that is where we need to go to find the fern, we’ll be fine as there’ll be a Lofty Husk nearby.’ Fibber paused. ‘Right?’
‘Yes,’ Fox replied, though deep down she wasn’t sure. She remembered Goldpaw also saying that there had been another Lofty Husk patrolling the Bonelands beyond the ravine, but that he hadn’t been heard from for a month. Perhaps Morg’s Midnights had seized him… So what was to say that the Lofty Husk patrolling the ravine hadn’t been set upon by the Midnights, too?
Total Shambles flew on. The sky was darker now, poked with stars, and, in the far distance, there were large birds soaring above the treetops. They were just silhouettes against the moon, but even from their outlines Fox could tell what they were.
Vultures.
And everyone knew that vultures usually only hovered over one thing: dead bodies.
It was too dark to make out much of what lay ahead, but at the sight of the vultures Heckle gave a little squeak. ‘Heckle is now feeling extremely queasy and worried.’
And it seemed that Total Shambles was suddenly in agreement. The map was still urging them onwards, but the swiftwing was heading down now as if he’d decided that this was as far as he would go.
Fox shut her eyes and held her breath as Total Shambles plunged towards the canopy of trees, hurtling through a narrow gap in the branches. Fox had been expecting a few glow-in-the-dark plants and magical trees still standing below, just as there had been in other parts of the rainforest, but what she saw instead made her stomach lurch.
The swiftwing wasn’t dropping down because he wanted to stop; instead, they were careering over a ravine, a plunging drop flanked either side by towering rocks that seemed to stretch on for miles and miles in both directions. There was a rickety bridge crossing the divide. And on the far side of the ravine – no glowing plants or glittering Hustleway – was the dark shape of a forest full of dead trees.
‘Fool’s Leap!’ the parrot screamed. ‘Heckle thinks we should change course! Immediately!’
‘Turn back!’ Fox yelled at Total Shambles. ‘Turn back!’
The map was desperately tugging Fox’s arm upwards. It had seemed to want to cross over into the Bonelands, but it had also been very insistent about them keeping above the jungle canopy. It was obviously not happy that Total Shambles had decided to approach things another way. And there was something different in how the swiftwing was flying now, too. He seemed out of control and not in the same slightly shambolic way as earlier. He was wobbling from side to side and his wingbeats were slowing down. He screeched as the ground grew closer and then, only by a whisker, he cleared the ravine and crash-landed in the Bonelands.
The twins tumbled off Total Shambles’ back and glanced around fearfully. They could feel the full weight of dark magic here. Not a single tree crowding round them had managed to cling on to a leaf, orchid or vine as some back on the other side of Fool’s Leap had done. These trees were like old husks – bare-branched, withered and throttled by fungi. And the plants dotted here and there in the undergrowth were horribly creepy: bushes sprouting bulging eyeballs; shrubs shrouded in thick, sticky cobwebs; a cluster of flowers with toenails for petals.
Fox’s shoulders bunched in fear and she shot a panicked look at Total Shambles. ‘You idiot!’ she hissed. ‘Why did you land down here?! Morg’s Midnights are bound to be close!’
The swiftwing tried to get up, but his legs buckled beneath him and he rolled onto his side and gasped.
‘He’s hurt!’ Fibber cried.
And when Fox took a closer look she saw that her brother was right. There were claw marks on Total Shambles’ hind leg, three deep gashes oozing blood.
‘The monkeys must have lashed out just as we took off,’ Fibber said. ‘All this time Total Shambles has been flying he’s been in pain. No wonder he crash-landed! He couldn’t go any further.’ He looked at his sister. ‘He would have kept going, following the pull of the flickertug map, if he’d been
