Starfell Willow Moss and the Lost Day (Starfell #1) - Dominique Valente Page 0,26
they’d all heard the stories of people who’d come back changed as a result. Hooves for feet, hair that turned to flames, leaves for fingers …
It was supposed to be beautiful, and colourful, but it could be dangerous too – especially if you didn’t know what you were looking for. It sounded like the perfect place someone who didn’t want to be found would hide …
She stared at the picture of the tree, and then looked at the others, noting that most of them had the same handwritten note at the bottom. ‘Wisperia,’ she breathed again, touching one of the pictures. ‘I think that’s where he’s gone … and where we’ll have to head to next.’
There was faint gasp from the bag. ‘Oh no.’
9
The Dragon’s Tale
‘I jes don’ wanna go back to the Cloud Mountains. Yew don’ understand … ’Tis not right … all these big rocks dangling in the sky wiff nuffink around them … ’Tis creepy and yer eyeballs don’ works … I means, I like the dark … but I like the dark whens you can’t also falls off …’
‘The Cloud Mountains?’ asked Willow, looking at him with a frown. ‘But – that’s not where we’re going.’ She stopped, then grinned, taking out the StoryPass, which just then pointed to ‘One Might Have Suspected as Such’. Oswin turned from green to orange, clearly a bit angry at himself as it dawned on him at the same time as Willow said, ‘Oh – because that’s the way to Wisperia, isn’t it?’
In answer he put a paw over his eyes, then zipped the bag shut again. Willow could hear Oswin softly cursing his bad luck, and his big mouth, in High Dwarf. As well as something about being a cumberworld, whatever that was.
But, as much as Willow wanted to press ahead on their journey, she felt the exhaustion that had been creeping in after their long day start to take hold. She found herself struggling to keep her eyes open, and suggested they stop for the night. Oswin’s sigh of relief was the last thing she heard before she fell fast asleep, curled round the hairy carpetbag on the small wooden bed, the air smelling faintly of flowers.
The next day, when Beady Hill was far behind them, Willow and Oswin passed a sign that read,
A little further on one read:
But the last one was probably the most ominous as it sort of gave up:
Willow took a steadying breath as she went past it.
Fog was beginning to sweep the ground, and the air was cold as it slithered inside Willow’s cloak, making the hairs on her neck stand on end. She shivered, though she wasn’t sure if it was just the sudden chill. It had grown dark and grey, and she could no longer see her feet as she walked. She could make out odd shapes in the mist; as she neared one she found that it was a large rock, which looked a bit like a child. She swallowed, grabbing her chest when it seemed for a moment to look at her. Clutching the hairy carpetbag tightly, she walked past the rock-child fast, and saw through the swirling mist that they had rounded upon a mountain range that was suspended among the clouds so that it appeared to float in the air. These must be the Cloud Mountains, thought Willow. As she got closer the air grew even thicker with hazy mist and the familiar sound of Oswin’s panicked wailing.
‘OH NO! Oh no! Oh, me greedy aunt! Osbertrude, a curse upon yeh. A curse, I tell yeh! I’m gonna die with only fruit in my bellllly …’
Willow felt her fear grow. His wails were reaching a deafening crescendo. He’d never been this panicked before, she thought. Not even when the Brothers of Wol or Amora Spell had appeared.
‘What is it?’ she asked, narrowing her eyes against the fog, trying to see.
Oswin shivered violently and zipped himself more securely into the hairy green bag.
Willow drew the StoryPass out of her pocket and went pale. ‘Oh dear. It says “There be Dragons”,’ she whispered. Her knees started to knock together. A faint ‘eep’ came from Oswin’s direction.
Then out of the swirling mist a voice like the wind howling on a cold night corrected her. ‘Dragon.’
‘P-pardon?’ stammered Willow, who took a step forward in spite of her knees, her eyes straining against the swirling mist.
‘Just the one dragon,’ said the voice, whistling in her ears. It sounded a little sad.