Then Fox whispered, ‘I’m sorry, Fibber. For everything back home and for everything out here before the bramble tunnel as well. I’ve been a terrible sister.’
Fibber looked down at his hands. ‘And I’ve been a pretty lousy brother.’ He held Fox’s gaze. ‘I will never lie to you again, Fox. I promise.’
Fox smiled through her tears, then she held out the sketch Fibber had drawn of the two of them laughing on the bridge back home. ‘You’re so talented.’
Fibber sighed. ‘Mum and Dad wouldn’t think so.’ He plucked at his feather waistcoat, then said quietly: ‘But if I stay out here in Jungledrop, away from Mum and Dad, I can be myself.’ He looked at Fox. ‘I could be a Doodler here. I could paint every day! I could do what I love at last!’
Fox listened without saying anything. There had been times when she, too, had wondered whether she could stay in Jungledrop if the quest ended well. She was angry with her parents for lying to her and Fibber, and she dreaded going back to a home where conversations were limited to business, smiling was optional and hugging was completely out of the question. But the only reason she had beaten Morg was because she had stood up to her. She had faced the harpy and she had discovered that she was worth something.
‘We never once stood up for ourselves back home,’ Fox said after a while. ‘We just kept trying to be who Mum and Dad wanted us to be. But what if we did stand up for ourselves, Fibber?’ She paused. ‘I’ve learnt that a lot can happen when you speak out. So maybe, if we get home, you should show Mum and Dad your art and let them see how brilliant you are at painting. Tell them you’re going to keep at it because it’s what you love. You might not make billions, but you’ll be happy. And I, for one, will back you all the way.’
‘You’d be with me if I told Mum and Dad?’ Fibber asked.
Fox smiled. ‘Course I would. Because that’s what siblings do: they stand by each other through thick and thin.’
And Fibber grinned. Now that he had a sister, not a rival, by his side, suddenly the thought of going home felt a little less frightening.
Fox imagined being in the room with Fibber as he revealed his artwork to their parents and she felt proud of him for finding something he loved and was good at. But a small part of her was sad that she’d have nothing to show for her time in Jungledrop. Just her word that she’d found a fern that had brought the rains back. And why on earth would her parents believe her when she herself had sneered at Casper Tock when he’d claimed something similar?
As if he could read his sister’s thoughts, Fibber said: ‘You might not be going home with a satchel full of drawings, Fox, but I think you’re leaving with something much more powerful.’ He looked out over Jungledrop. ‘You own a story. And not just any old story. The story of how you battled through the Bonelands and planted the pearl to save Jungledrop and the Faraway. Not because you were some fancy politician flinging words around or an important general in charge of an army or a businesswoman who got to the top by stamping on other people. You saved the world because you’re kind and brave.’
Fox felt a glow spread inside her.
Fibber went on. ‘Being a sloth gave me a lot of time to think. At school, the people who usually get noticed are the ones with the best marks in class, the most goals in sport or the biggest parts in the end-of-term play. There’s a lot of noise and hype around those kind of people. But away from all of that there are ordinary people, doing extraordinary things, purely because they’re kind. They are the real world-shakers, the ones who start revolutions and overturn wrong. And you’re one of them, Fox. Your talent is that you’re kind and that is enough. More than enough. Because the world is nothing without kindness.’
Fox thought about this. During their quest, she had begun to understand the importance of being kind to others, but it turned out that almost harder than this was realising that you needed to be kind to yourself, too. She had been convinced that she was unlovable, but now here was her brother saying that she was worth something. That she, Fox Petty-Squabble, who didn’t think she had a scrap of talent to her name, was a world-shaker.
And, just like that, something deep inside Fox healed. It had taken an adventure across a secret kingdom and almost losing her brother altogether, but Fox had learnt what some grown-ups take a lifetime to understand: that being kind is the greatest talent of all.
The twins climbed down the Forever Fern together and it was obvious from the way Iggy and Heckle were twitching about in front of Deepglint that they, and very probably the Lofty Husk, knew something Fox and Fibber didn’t.
‘Look at the fern,’ Iggy cried as the twins’ feet touched the ground.
Deepglint nodded. ‘Look closely.’
Fox peered at the silver frond in front of her and it was only then that she noticed the patterns that scored the leaves: tiny lines that looped and swirled, just like the loops and swirls she’d seen on the ferns inside Cragheart.
She looked at Deepglint with questioning eyes. ‘Fingerprints. I don’t understand…’
‘As Heckle told you,’ the Lofty Husk said, ‘when an Unmapper is born, a fingerfern sprouts in his or her honour.’
He looked from Fox to Fibber,
