Fox kicked off her boots, then, without thinking twice or listening to Heckle’s reservations, she jumped into the lagoon. The panther leapt up, alarmed, and the sloth let out a little squeak. But Fox was already kicking down beneath the surface of the water.
She shovelled the letters into her hands, then kicked upwards, spluttering water, before bundling herself out onto the rocks that lined the lagoon. She laid the letters out in front of the panther, her heart quickening as they formed the word she knew they would:
DEEPGLINT
The letters sparkled in the cave, but the panther simply grunted and Fox had to fight the urge not to kick him in the shin for being so ungrateful. She had no idea why there were golden letters spelling out the Lofty Husk’s name at the bottom of the lagoon, but she felt as if they might be important and the least the panther could do was acknowledge that she’d got soaking wet collecting them.
Then the panther looked at the letters more closely, a look that seemed to pass beyond the golden shapes and move to memories of long-forgotten things. And suddenly a golden mist rose up from the Lofty Husk’s name, reminding Fox of the panther’s breath the night before, and it dried her tunic right through.
Then the mist danced about the panther, a shower of golden light, and he shook himself hard as if waking from a very long sleep. Fox gasped. He looked bigger suddenly, and stronger, but that was not all. He opened his mouth and at long last he spoke – in a voice that was low and rumbling and shuddering with strength.
‘You – you found my magic,’ Deepglint said. ‘Without our names, we Lofty Husks are but wild beasts. And when Morg’s curse stole my name, and with it my magic, I all but forgot who I was. But a Lofty Husk’s name will never stray far from him, even if it has been stripped away by evil.’
Deepglint looked at Fox and his eyes shone with gratitude. ‘You saw my name in the lagoon where I did not because you believed in me when I no longer could.’ He dipped his head. ‘A heart full of faith and kindness is a rare and powerful thing.’
Fox faltered. She had always assumed her heart was filled with dreadful stamping things, but here was a ruler of Jungledrop telling her the opposite.
Deepglint drew himself up, tall and proud. ‘Kindness has a way of digging what we lose back up, even if what we lost was half buried at the bottom of a lagoon. My voice, my memories, my magic only appeared because of you. Because you were bold enough to trust in me and kind enough to believe that it would make a difference.’
Fox glanced at her brother. ‘The sloth – he believed in you, too.’
Deepglint smiled. ‘Then he is a very wise sloth.’
‘I’m Fox and the sloth is called Fibber.’ She paused. ‘And, though he doesn’t look like it right now, he’s my brother. Only I turned him into a sloth because I was being awful.’ She sighed. ‘I’m hoping the magic of the Forever Fern, if we find it, might turn him back into a boy again.’
The panther dipped his head at the sloth and the little creature dipped his head back, and at the same time Heckle muttered something vague and sheepish about almost believing in the panther, too.
‘I will repay all your kindness,’ Deepglint said, ‘not simply because it is my duty as a Lofty Husk to protect every good soul who enters Jungledrop, but because it would be an honour to stand alongside you three in this quest.’
Fox was having trouble taking everything in. Here was a Lofty Husk treating her as if she mattered, as if she wasn’t entirely unlovable and useless, and it looked as if he might be joining them on their quest. Her heart quickened at the thought. ‘You’re coming with us to Shadowfall?’
The panther leapt up onto the ledge above the waterfall and rolled his shoulder muscles back and forth, as if preparing to leap again, and when he looked down at them Fox noticed that his eyes blazed with purpose. And fight.
‘I am,’ he said.
Heckle squawked excitedly and the sloth raised a cheery paw.
‘Shadowfall is the name of Morg’s stronghold,’ Deepglint said, his voice a low growl. ‘A forgotten temple that she now calls her own several miles north of here.’
Fox’s face paled. ‘Why would the flickertug map tell us to go to Morg to find the Forever Fern? Surely we should be staying one step ahead of the harpy at all times. And if the Forever Fern is somehow at Shadowfall then why hasn’t she found it and swallowed the pearl to grant herself immortal power?’
Deepglint shook his head. ‘That I cannot say. Magic rarely makes sense, at the beginning anyway.’
Fox thought back to the flickertug map and how it had only yielded the first destination of their quest when the right person asked for it. Which was her. Could the same be true for the Forever Fern itself? Could it be up at Shadowfall, within arm’s reach of Morg, and yet somehow still hidden because it was Fox who was meant to find it, not the harpy?
Deepglint glanced down at his leg. ‘I stumbled across Shadowfall almost a month ago now. I stalked right up to the gates before it, but I underestimated the reach of Morg’s power. So intent was I on launching myself at the harpy to try and save Jungledrop that I did not see her servant, an ape called Screech,
