by Lyn Gardner
Finally, Aurora slumped against a tree. ‘It’s no good, Storm. I can’t go any further tonight. We’re lost and we might just as well admit it.’
‘We’re not lost—’ began Storm furiously, but her unfinished words hung in the air, cut short by a long low howl somewhere nearby. The cry was answered by a second howl, higher and more penetrating.
‘What’s that?’ asked a panic-stricken Aurora, grabbing onto her sister’s arm.
‘I don’t think you really want to know,’ said Storm grimly.
‘Of course I want to know,’ screeched Aurora so loudly that Storm clapped a hand over her sister’s mouth.
‘Well, if you insist,’ said Storm calmly.‘Although you are really not going to like this one little bit, Aurora. It is a wolf. Certainly more than one wolf. I’ve heard them around here before. On the night mother died. And I saw one the day Papa disappeared.’
‘But that’s impossible. Everyone knows that wolves died out around here centuries ago,’ Aurora said impatiently.
‘Well,’ Storm replied, wishing again that she’d been brave enough to admit to her trip to Piper’s Town, ‘somebody’s reintroduced them.’
‘That would be an exceptionally thoughtless and silly thing to do. It would make the countryside dangerous. Maybe they just escaped from a zoo.’
‘Somehow, I don’t think so,’ said Storm thoughtfully. ‘I think the person who has done it knows exactly what he’s doing.’
‘And what’s that?’
‘I don’t know. Frightening people. Keeping them under control. Stopping them from roaming around the countryside. You’d have to have very good reasons for doing something so dangerous.’
Aurora looked at her sister suspiciously, beginning to suspect that Storm was holding something back. Then a wolf bayed again, closer than ever, and she suddenly had no desire to continue the conversation. ‘Perhaps we should keep going,’ she said with a gulp.
Storm nodded. ‘Yes, I think we should.’
They stumbled on for a while, taking turns to carry Any, whose eyes somehow contrived to become rounder and wider with each howl.
‘It’s as if they are trying to tell us something,’ said Aurora after a while.
Storm wanted to say: They are. They are telling us that it is long past their supper time. But she knew that wouldn’t be wise given Aurora’s current delicate mental state. She scanned the shadows anxiously. ‘We’re never going to find the road in all this snow. We’d better look for somewhere to hide.’
Like so much good advice in life it came too late, for at that moment a she-wolf slunk from behind a tree. For a split second Storm looked at the wolf and the wolf looked at Storm. Storm thought Danger and the wolf thought Dinner. Then the wolf looked at Aurora and Any and thought Pudding.
That was the beast’s fatal mistake, for it was in that instant that Storm yelled for Aurora to climb the nearest tree as she reached into her pocket and started pelting the wolf with the remaining rock cakes. The animal hesitated, clearly uncertain whether to give chase to dessert or stick with the entrée. Then, realizing that she was in danger of losing both courses, she gave a snarl of rage and propelled herself towards Storm’s throat. Fortunately for Storm, the combination of anger and excitement at the proximity of three such tempting ready-to-eat snacks made the wolf miscalculate the angle of her jump. Not that this was any great comfort, for Storm suddenly saw two more long grey shapes appear amongst the trees.
The she-wolf growled at the newcomers, clearly irked at the prospect of having to share with so many a feast intended exclusively for one. Storm took her chance, and flung the last remaining rock cake at the she-wolf. It hit the animal squarely between the eyes. Storm saw the beast’s eyes water and resisted a well-mannered compulsion to apologize, deciding instead to concentrate on staying alive long enough to celebrate her next birthday. She could see the other wolves yelping and snapping around the bottom of the tree where Aurora and Any were precariously secreted on a branch only just out of reach of the beast’s open jaws. Aurora’s mouth was an O-gape of complete terror.
The she-wolf had recovered both her balance and her appetite. She limped in a small circle, keeping her yellow eyes firmly fixed on Storm. Storm wanted to look away, but it was as if she was hypnotized by the animal’s persistent stare.
So, she thought dully, this is how my brilliant life ends, before it has really properly begun. I am to be a superior kind of dog food.
The she-wolf crouched back on her thin haunches and then sprang forward—
There was a loud crack as the branch on which Aurora and Any were perched suddenly snapped. In a flurry of snow and foliage, bough and children were deposited directly on top of the slavering wolves below them, pinning the astonished animals to the ground.
Distracted by the breaking bough, the she-wolf who had been poised to take a chunk out of Storm’s throat missed her target again and slammed into the tree behind. She yelped in pain and surprise and slithered down the trunk to lie in an unconscious heap at the bottom.
Storm turned her attention to Aurora and Any. Here was a pressing problem. As long as her sisters stayed sitting on the fallen branch, their combined weight, together with the bulkiness of the bough, was enough to keep the two wolves immobilized. But it was clear to Storm that as soon as the children removed themselves, the wolves would be able to escape from under the branch and give chase.
‘Stay there,’ she ordered Aurora, rather unnecessarily as Aurora was in a dead faint and clearly wasn’t going anywhere. Storm cast around for inspiration and felt in her pockets, watched by Any, who was staring at her with big solemn eyes. Storm’s fingers found the gunpowder that she had been using to make the Catherine wheels the day before.
‘If only I had some matches,’ she said out loud, looking anxiously towards the she-wolf, who was beginning to show signs of life.
‘Here, have these,’ said a small, high, clear voice. Storm spun round, astonished. Still clasped in Aurora’s arms, Any was holding out a box of matches for Storm to take.
Storm was so surprised she opened and closed her mouth like a fish. Eventually some words came out. ‘Any! You can talk!’
‘So it seems,’ replied Any with the air of somebody very wise talking to somebody very, very stupid.
‘How long?’ asked Storm, still quite amazed.
‘Oh, long enough. Since the day I was born. I suddenly realized that I could do it when you and I were in the pantry together.’
‘Then why haven’t you spoken before?’ asked Storm.
‘There just didn’t seem to be a pressing need,’ said Any. ‘I don’t believe in over-exertion. Life is tiring enough as it is, without lots of unnecessary talking.’
‘Like mother, like daughter, then,’ smiled Storm.
‘I expect so,’ said Any, yawning, putting her thumb in her mouth and nuzzling Ted Bear.
‘These matches are just what I need,’ said Storm. ‘All I’ve got to find now is some kindling so I can make some fires.’
‘Why?’ asked Any.
‘Because wolves are afraid of fire. They won’t jump through flame.’
‘You are clever, Storm,’ said Any admiringly.
‘So are you,Any. Most babies can’t talk like you.’
There was a pause as Storm hunted around for dry twigs and small logs to start a fire. She quickly and methodically made a number of small bonfires in a circle, enclosing all three wolves as well as Aurora and Any.
‘Storm,’ said Any after a short pause,‘you won’t tell Aurora, will you?’
‘About the talking?’
‘No. She’ll have to know about that, and it might as well be sooner rather than later. Although she’ll probably want me to demonstrate, which will be totally exhausting. But I meant, don’t tell her about the matches.’
‘Why not?’ asked Storm as she found larger dry logs to add to the growing piles.
‘Because I don’t think Aurora would approve of babies playing with matches.’
‘No,’ agreed Storm, laughing,‘somehow I don’t think she would.’
Aurora and the she-wolf were both stirring.
‘I think you are going to have to hurry up a little if we are to avoid being eaten,’ said Any with the air of one who is being especially helpful.
‘Perhaps you could lend a hand?’ asked Storm.
‘I would, but although I’ve completely mastered talking, I haven’t entirely got the hang of walking yet.’ She screwed her little face up thoughtfully and said, ‘I can’t entirely see the point of walking when there is always somebody around to carry you, but I expect it has its uses.’
Aurora had now revived and was staring at Any in sheer amazement, and the slavering wolves pinned beneath her with sheer horror.
‘Hold on, won’t be a moment,’ said Storm, and she moved around the circle of unlit bonfires throwing a tiny pinch of gunpowder onto each and then tossing in a lighted match immediately after. The fires sprang into life with a pop. As the flames took hold, they merged to create a wall of fire that completely encircled the wolves, Aurora and Any, with just one small gap where there were two unlit fires.
‘Now then,’ said Storm to Aurora, who was looking increasingly anxious about the wall of flames, ‘when I say jump, jump quickly through the gap here, and run as fast as you can in that direction. I’ll light the fires and follow. One, two, three, jump!’
Aurora rose unsteadily to her feet with Any in her arms and leaped forward through the gap. The wolves scrambled up after her, but the branch was heavy and they were too slow. Just as they reached the gap Storm dropped lighted matches into the remaining two bonfires and threw in an extra pinch of gunpowder for good measure. With a roar a wall of flame rose up, leaving the furious wolves encircled by fire.
Running after Aurora and Any, Storm looked back and saw the creatures baying angrily, their eyes red in the reflected firelight.
The children ran through the woods and Aurora and Storm took it in turns to carry Any, who snuggled into their necks and hid her face from the world. After a while they could run no further. They collapsed on the ground by a small dark stream, from which they drank deeply. It had stopped snowing. The moon had peeped out; a splash of white paint in a puddle of inky sky. Both girls lay flat on their backs, gulping in the air and watching the treetops dance wildly in the wind like giddy chorus girls. Any was sleeping like a baby. After a short while Aurora raised herself up onto her elbow and spoke.
‘Any can talk, then?’
‘Yes,’ said Storm, rolling over and looking at her sister’s face.
‘Good.’
‘You don’t seem very surprised.’
Aurora shrugged and gave a little smile. ‘Why should I be surprised? I already have one exceptional sister, so it comes as no surprise to discover that I have two.’
Storm felt a warm feeling like a river of melted chocolate flood through her. This must be what real happiness feels like, she thought to herself.
After a few minutes of luxuriating in the feeling she said, ‘We better move on. The fires weren’t very big: when they burn down the wolves will be able to get out. They’ll easily pick up our scent.’
A House made from Sweets
After an hour of struggling through thick brambles, the vegetation suddenly thinned and the children could walk more freely under the trees. It was snowing heavily again and they were soaked through, leaving a trail of small puddles in their wake.
Whenever they stopped for a brief rest Storm listened hard. Once through the snow-furred silence she caught the sound of a far-off wolf. She shivered miserably. Could the pipe really be worth all this trouble? As if answering her unspoken thought the pipe glowed around her neck, radiating a warmth across her body. Then the trees began to thin too and Storm realized that they were following a distinct path that coiled around the tree trunks like a piece of ribbon. She broke into a run, reached a small bank, scrambled up and, to her delight, saw a narrow straight road dissecting the woods. She gestured to Aurora to hurry up.
‘A road!’ she said delightedly. ‘It’ll take us into Piper’s Town.’
Aurora stood on the bank and looked first to the right and then to the left.‘Which way is Piper’s Town?’ she asked.
Storm hesitated. She didn’t know, but she didn’t want Aurora to know that she didn’t know.
‘Right,’ she blurted. ‘No, left. I’m sure it’s left.’
‘Storm,’ asked Aurora seriously,‘are you certain, or are you bluffing? Do you have a clue where we are?’
Any raised her head from Aurora’s shoulder. ‘I know exactly where we are,’ she said triumphantly.
‘Where?’ asked Storm and Aurora eagerly.
‘Lost!’ said Any with supreme confidence, and she put her head back on Aurora’s shoulder and went to sleep again.
Aurora sighed. ‘So, which way do we go?’ she asked again, with a glint in her eye that Storm didn’t much like. Storm opened her mouth to say right, just as a silvergrey hare shot out from behind a tree, turned left and sped up the middle of the road, its tiny footprints leaving a perfect trail in the snow.
‘Left,’ said Storm firmly. ‘Piper’s Town is definitely to the left. I’m quite certain.’
She turned out to be correct. Cold, wet, exhausted and starving hungry, they eventually saw the distant chimneys and spires of the town. Crossing an ancient stone bridge that spanned the wide river, they were soon padding down winding cobbled streets with names such as Cutpurse Way, Bleeding Heart Court and Butchery Lane, past unwelcoming houses with doors and windows shut firmly against the dark night and strangers.
It was eerily silent. Storm could hear her stomach rumbling. She thought longingly of the roaring fire at Eden End and of sitting beside it toasting crumpets and eating them with butter and drizzled honey.
‘Where are we heading?’ whispered Aurora.
‘The town square. There’s a derelict church nearby where we can spend the rest of the night,’ said Storm. ‘It won’t be warm but at least it will be dry and then in the morning we’ll get help.’
At that moment the crooked little lane down which they were walking turned a corner and in front of them was the most astonishing building. Its walls were covered in ginger parkin inlaid with sweets, and towering high above its peppermint roof was a quartet of towers constructed of spun sugar and studded with jellied fruits. But it was the smell that really attracted the children – the air around the gingerbread house was scented with the aroma of freshly baked cinnamon buns, warm chocolate muffins and hot gingerbread with sticky toffee sauce. The children stared at the building open-mouthed and Any held out her arms towards it and said one word: ‘Yummy.’
Storm walked up to the white picket fence that surrounded the garden. As she got closer she realized that it was made from sweet rock and, in the garden beyond, lollipops stood to attention in the flowerbeds. Any leaned down from Storm’s arms, licked the fence and said, ‘Peppermint. It tastes of peppermint!’ She fixed her small sharp teeth around the top of a post and took a bite right out of it.
‘Any, dear,’ said Aurora worriedly, ‘I’m not sure it’s right to go round eating other people’s property.’ But Storm had already walked up the front path of the building and was nibbling at a marzipan and liquorice window ledge. Aurora followed her and broke off a piece from a chocolate window box and put it in her mouth. It was delectable. Any leaned forward and helped herself to a flower made of icing, glacé cherries and angelica. Ravenous, Storm dug her fingers into the gingerbread wall, excavated a large chunk and took a huge bite. It was the most delicious thing she had ever eaten.
The children were so intent on eating that they didn’t notice the door of the gingerbread house open and they were startled when a voice suddenly said, ‘Who’s been eating my house? Who’s been licking my fence? Who’s been nibbling at my window box and gobbled it all up?’
Guiltily the children stopped stuffing bits of house into their mouths and looked up. Looming over them from the
top of the stairs by the open front door was a large, plump woman with russet cheeks and eyes like apple pips. Her hair was the colour of treacle with a light dusting of icing sugar. She was wearing an old-fashioned white pinafore apron and a syrup smile, and she was holding her arms wide in a gesture of welcome. Then she descended the steps and Storm got a whiff of her crystallized-violet breath. She beamed at the children.
‘My name is Bee Bumble and I am the matron here at the Ginger House Orphanage for lost, abandoned and foundling children, and you three are very welcome indeed. There’s plenty more food inside. Why don’t you come in, my little munchkins, where it’s warm and safe, and let me look after you and feed you. Oh, my sugar plums. My little cupcakes. Come to Bee Bumble and she’ll keep you safe and fat in her Ginger House. Oh, my strawberry shortcakes, my little peppermint drops, my sweet peas, stay with your Big Bee and she’ll guarantee you granulated happiness.’ She held out her arms to them.
Storm and Aurora looked at each other. They were half-frozen, soaking wet and completely exhausted and Bee Bumble seemed so very motherly and welcoming. From not too far away came the howl of a wolf. Aurora needed no further prompting.
‘Come on, Storm,’ she said. ‘After all, we are almost orphans,’ and she walked eagerly up the stairs and collapsed into Bee Bumble’s arms. For a second Storm hesitated and then followed, holding Any.
‘My poor little pumpkins. You are quite worn out. Time for beddy-byes, I think,’ Bee Bumble said. She bundled them up several flights of stairs to one of the towers and put them straight to bed. Any, tucked into an alcove cot, took an experimental lick of the wallpaper and discovered, much to her delight, that it was liquorice on one side of the bed and chocolate on the other. She smiled dozily, kissed Ted Bear, clutched her starry blanket and fell fast asleep.
‘What a little honey,’ beamed Bee Bumble as she leaned in a motherly fashion over Any’s cot. For a strange moment Storm thought the matron was going to take a bite out of the baby rather than just plant a sweet, wet kiss on her forehead. Then Mrs Bumble left, turning out the light.
‘Aurora,’ whispered Storm.
