Fibber tried to speak, but a sound halfway between a squeak and a bleat came out instead. A single tear smudged down his furry cheek.
And Fox knew, then, that Fibber had been telling the truth the night before, after all. He was tired of fighting with her and trying to be someone he wasn’t. And now it was as if, through his paintings, Fox was able to see her brother properly for the first time. He was an artist-in-the-making! Perhaps Fibber had hoped, one day, that he might make a living out of his art, but he’d followed Fox onto the Here and There Express because he’d known, deep down, that the paintings in his briefcase probably wouldn’t sell for much and he couldn’t return to the Neverwrinkle Hotel without a proper fortune-saving plan in place otherwise he’d be packed off to Antarctica. So, all this time, Fox had been worried that Fibber’s briefcase held a backup plan to trump her at the last minute, but really he’d just been keeping the things he loved close at hand, quietly pursuing his passion and hoping hard that no one discovered his secret.
Now everything was starting to make sense. Fox thought of the snuggler chair back on the train. A park bench had appeared for Fibber because it was the perfect place to sketch and watch the world and its people drift on by. And then there had been Fibber’s fascination when Goldpaw showed them Doodler’s Haven and his words the night before about wanting to stay in Jungledrop, to ‘do what I’m good at’. Here there were Unmappers who painted for a living – no wonder Fibber had felt there might be a place for him! All the signs had been there, but Fox had been so convinced that her brother was out to get her that she hadn’t seen them.
She thought back bitterly to all the nights she’d cried herself to sleep because her parents had made her feel that Fibber was better than her, more lovable than her, when really, just down the corridor in the same house, her brother had been worrying about the very same thing. And neither of them had ever known. Until now.
Fox knelt down in front of the little sloth and picked up the drawing of her and Fibber. Her own eyes blurred with tears and the wall around her heart, which had seemed so indestructible before, trembled again. Fox had cried into her pillow many times back home, alone, but as she wept now she felt the world as she’d known it sway. Fibber’s heart had been filled with longing, just like hers – for the chance to follow his passions, be loved by his parents and laugh with his sister. All the secret things that Fox had yearned for year after year, too, but had been too proud and scared to admit.
‘What have I done?’ she sobbed. ‘Oh, what have I done?’
Fox looked at her brother and her world shifted. Everything she had felt was so important before seemed to unravel and she saw their quest for what it really was, for what Fibber had known it was ever since meeting Goldpaw. Not a petty search to secure a family fortune and somehow win their parents’ love, but an odds-defying mission to save the world. Because, despite what her parents had led her to believe, all those people back home suffering as a result of the terrible droughts mattered. And everyone here at the mercy of Morg mattered, too. At the end of the day, stamping all over other people didn’t get you anywhere except stuck in a bramble tunnel with a brother you’d just turned into a sloth.
And it was then that the wall around Fox’s heart finally crumbled, piece by jolting piece, until her heart was out in the open, aching and bruised and brimming with regret. She cried and cried, wishing she could take back what she’d done to Fibber, but not knowing how. The sloth cried, too, and Heckle had the good sense not to go trumpeting everyone’s feelings out loud because it was very obvious what the mood in the tunnel was just then.
‘I’m so sorry, Fibber,’ Fox sniffed. ‘I was cross with you, so I gave you a magical nut to eat. It was meant to send you into an enchanted sleep while I went off to find the Forever Fern. But there must have been a side effect which turned you into a…’ Her voice trailed off. ‘I should’ve believed you, only – only there was so much standing in the way. And the reason I didn’t tell you that I’m tired and miserable, too, was because I thought you were trying to trick me. I should have trusted you!’
The words spilled out. It was easier, strangely, talking to a sloth rather than a human. The fur seemed to soften things a little. And the fact that the sloth couldn’t answer back – that helped, too.
‘You always seem so confident, so sure of yourself and your plans,’ Fox said with a sob.
The sloth sighed and Heckle, sensing this might be a good moment to help, hopped onto Fox’s shoulder. ‘Fibber is thinking that he’s far from sure of himself. He wishes you knew how scared and lonely he’s been.’
Fox swallowed as she looked at the little animal. ‘Mum and Dad have always told me that you are the one who’s going to save the family fortune. But it seems they’ve been telling you it’s going to be me. All along, they’ve been playing us, Fibber.’
The sloth’s eyes filled with more tears.
‘Maybe you’re not as sure of yourself as you seem,’ Fox said to her brother after a while, ‘but you’re talented, Fibber.’ She looked around at his paintings. ‘Really talented. Unlike me. All I’m good
