Bonnington. I won’t be long.”
“I like gardens,” chirped Zanna, following him.
“Zanna, I’m only going to look at a hedgehog.”
“I like hedgehogs,” she added. “Come on, Bonnington.” And she was out of the door before David could stop her, with Bonnington trotting along at her ankles.
As they approached the chunk of ice, Bonnington gave it a good wide berth.
“There was a snowman there,” David explained. “It spooked him a bit. He hasn’t got over it.”
Zanna slowed to a halt. She looked at Bonnington, then at the ice. “No, he senses something. Animals are far more perceptive than humans. They can touch other planes of existence. You know the first thing I thought of when I looked at that?”
“Ice?” said David, facetiously.
“The Arctic ice cap, to be exact.”
David groaned and rolled his eyes. “Hang on, I’ll get a lollipop stick and we can mark the north pole.”
“I mean it, Rain. I get impressions. Things come to me. I’m never wrong. Think about it. What’s it doing here when all the rest of the snow has gone?”
David stared at the ice with his hands in his pockets. “Melting — very slowly?”
Zanna shook her head. “It’s Lorel,” she muttered. “It’s definitely a sign.”
A-row,
went Bonnington, padding away.
“See, he knows.”
“No, he
doesn’t.
All he cares about are
Chunky Chunks
and
Truffgood
treats.” David shook his head at her and headed up the garden. He’d had all the weirdness he could take right now. Zanna, Lorel, Bonnington, white hedgehogs. He snatched the brambles aside. No Spikey, and no catty treasure trove either. Frowning suspiciously, he turned to the cat. “Where’s your loot?”
Bonnington looked at the empty space as if it were a total mystery to him.
“Don’t give me that. You’ve
moved
it all, haven’t you?”
Brr-up,
went Bonnington and sat down to give his paws a wash.
“What’s happening?” asked Zanna, catching up.
“That cat is a thief and a smuggler,” said David. He explained about the hairbrush and how Bonnington and Lucy (and Spikey, it seemed) had all turned the tables on him.
“Serves you right,” Zanna said, laughing. “Cats are far smarter than you think. White hedgehog? That’s interesting. According to ancient folklore, white hedgehogs were a symbol of —”
“Don’t,” said David, holding up his hands. “I don’t want any more mystical babble.”
For the first time, Zanna appeared quite hurt. “I don’t understand you,” she said. “You tell me stuff about Inuit talismans and how the name Lorel pops up out of nowhere, and when I come to your garden it’s obvious that something strange is going on, so obvious that even your cat knows about it, and all you do is try to deny it. I know you want to make sense of it, Rain, but you won’t let me help you because of all this.” She flicked her hands down the front of her skirt, folded her arms, and brushed her way past him. “I’m sorry I came. You can keep the dragon book until you hand in your essay. See you at college. Bye.”
She was halfway to the house before David turned and came running after her. “Zanna, stop. I didn’tmean to be rude. I’m sorry. I’m just … confused, I s’pose. I keep having dreams about him.”
Zanna paused and dropped her shoulders. “Lorel?”
“Mmm. I think so. A bear, anyway. He keeps trying to speak, but when he opens his mouth something always wakes me.”
Zanna turned slowly. As she did, she caught sight of the dragons in the window of the den. “That’s because you’re scared of what you might hear.”
“Pardon?”
“Your logical mind is shutting off your subconscious because you won’t allow yourself to believe what’s happening. It’s like Tinker Bell in
Peter Pan.
Tink dies unless you convince yourself that fairies truly exist.”
“Fairies?” David gave his nose a skeptical twist. “Forget it,” said Zanna, and turned away again. “OK,” he said quickly, hauling
“I like gardens,” chirped Zanna, following him.
“Zanna, I’m only going to look at a hedgehog.”
“I like hedgehogs,” she added. “Come on, Bonnington.” And she was out of the door before David could stop her, with Bonnington trotting along at her ankles.
As they approached the chunk of ice, Bonnington gave it a good wide berth.
“There was a snowman there,” David explained. “It spooked him a bit. He hasn’t got over it.”
Zanna slowed to a halt. She looked at Bonnington, then at the ice. “No, he senses something. Animals are far more perceptive than humans. They can touch other planes of existence. You know the first thing I thought of when I looked at that?”
“Ice?” said David, facetiously.
“The Arctic ice cap, to be exact.”
David groaned and rolled his eyes. “Hang on, I’ll get a lollipop stick and we can mark the north pole.”
“I mean it, Rain. I get impressions. Things come to me. I’m never wrong. Think about it. What’s it doing here when all the rest of the snow has gone?”
David stared at the ice with his hands in his pockets. “Melting — very slowly?”
Zanna shook her head. “It’s Lorel,” she muttered. “It’s definitely a sign.”
A-row,
went Bonnington, padding away.
“See, he knows.”
“No, he
doesn’t.
All he cares about are
Chunky Chunks
and
Truffgood
treats.” David shook his head at her and headed up the garden. He’d had all the weirdness he could take right now. Zanna, Lorel, Bonnington, white hedgehogs. He snatched the brambles aside. No Spikey, and no catty treasure trove either. Frowning suspiciously, he turned to the cat. “Where’s your loot?”
Bonnington looked at the empty space as if it were a total mystery to him.
“Don’t give me that. You’ve
moved
it all, haven’t you?”
Brr-up,
went Bonnington and sat down to give his paws a wash.
“What’s happening?” asked Zanna, catching up.
“That cat is a thief and a smuggler,” said David. He explained about the hairbrush and how Bonnington and Lucy (and Spikey, it seemed) had all turned the tables on him.
“Serves you right,” Zanna said, laughing. “Cats are far smarter than you think. White hedgehog? That’s interesting. According to ancient folklore, white hedgehogs were a symbol of —”
“Don’t,” said David, holding up his hands. “I don’t want any more mystical babble.”
For the first time, Zanna appeared quite hurt. “I don’t understand you,” she said. “You tell me stuff about Inuit talismans and how the name Lorel pops up out of nowhere, and when I come to your garden it’s obvious that something strange is going on, so obvious that even your cat knows about it, and all you do is try to deny it. I know you want to make sense of it, Rain, but you won’t let me help you because of all this.” She flicked her hands down the front of her skirt, folded her arms, and brushed her way past him. “I’m sorry I came. You can keep the dragon book until you hand in your essay. See you at college. Bye.”
She was halfway to the house before David turned and came running after her. “Zanna, stop. I didn’tmean to be rude. I’m sorry. I’m just … confused, I s’pose. I keep having dreams about him.”
Zanna paused and dropped her shoulders. “Lorel?”
“Mmm. I think so. A bear, anyway. He keeps trying to speak, but when he opens his mouth something always wakes me.”
Zanna turned slowly. As she did, she caught sight of the dragons in the window of the den. “That’s because you’re scared of what you might hear.”
“Pardon?”
“Your logical mind is shutting off your subconscious because you won’t allow yourself to believe what’s happening. It’s like Tinker Bell in
Peter Pan.
Tink dies unless you convince yourself that fairies truly exist.”
“Fairies?” David gave his nose a skeptical twist. “Forget it,” said Zanna, and turned away again. “OK,” he said quickly, hauling
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