Dragons in Snow. Judy Hayman

Huffed that lunch is ready,” said Duncan as they came close to his diggings. He had made quite a pile of new roots for them to collect later, and was covered in mud. “You fly on, and I’ll have a quick wash and catch you up. Nice fish, Tom! Did you catch it?” He set off without waiting for Tom’s reply.

      “Come on, let’s fly fast. You’re shivering,” said Emily, setting off up the hill. Tom shook water off his wings and followed, looking forward to a hot meal by the fire.

      Gwen had chopped some of their roots and added a good clawful to the beetle broth simmering on the fire. There wasn’t much flavour to them, but they certainly added bulk and filled them up. She was looking a good deal happier. She was delighted with Tom’s fish, which she said they could have for supper, and even more pleased to hear about the tree full of beech nuts.

      “I think we should go down this afternoon as well,” she said as Duncan, clean again, flew down to join them. “You never know what the weather will be like tomorrow.”

      “Lottie’s Dad says it’s going to be a hard winter. There’s ice on the loch already,” Emily reported.

      “Then we’d better not waste a good foraging day,” Duncan agreed.

      They collected their bags and flew back down as soon as the meal was finished. Gwen made a nest in the grass under the beech tree, and persuaded Lily to climb inside. “Coorie doon, Lily!” Emily said. “That’s what Lottie says. I think it means snuggle down,” she added for her mother’s benefit as they tiptoed away.

      With Lily asleep, the others found foraging much easier. Duncan bagged up his pile of roots and sent Tom back to the cave with them, while he started on the digging. Tom happily joined him when he returned with the empty bag. Gwen and Emily flew up to the spreading branches of the beech tree, tied their cloth between twigs, and started to fill it with nuts. The sun filtering through the branches felt surprisingly warm on their scales.

      “Are you sure this is the start of winter?” Emily asked. “I’m lovely and warm.”

      “That’s because there’s no wind,” said Gwen, dropping a clawful of nuts into the cloth. “It’ll be cold again when the sun goes down. The frost hasn’t melted in that patch of shade down there.”

      “Are we really going to be short of food?”

      “I don’t think so,” Gwen didn’t sound too sure, “but it’s as well to be as prepared as we can. The Otter is probably right about the winter being a hard one. He’ll know the signs if he’s lived here all his life. Frosty days like this are all right, but too much snow can be a problem. Food will certainly be hard to find, so we need our stores. I’d hate you and Tom to go hungry.”

      “Tom would get really grumpy!” Emily agreed.

      “He wouldn’t be the only one! Can you keep an eye on Lily while I take these back to the cave?”

      Emily agreed and as there was no point in collecting more nuts until the bag was brought back, she flew to the topmost branch of the tree and perched, swaying gently. From there, she could see Tom and Dad still digging in the wood. Looking south over the loch she saw all four otters rolling and playing in the deep water and watched a pair of small deer tread warily to the edge of the loch for a drink before disappearing back into the trees. Two eagles, high in the pale sky, circled lazily. How would they all manage in a hard winter? There were months of cold weather still to come...

      A wail from the ground below the tree interrupted her thoughts. Lily was awake. That probably put an end to foraging for the day, Emily thought, gliding down to reassure her wee sister that she had not been abandoned.

      As the sun sank lower the frost returned, and the night was even colder; but the dragons, snug in their heather beds, ‘cooried doon’ and slept in comfort.

       Chapter 3

       The Tail-Stane Game

      For the next week, the weather stayed calm and bright, but very cold. The frost thickened, outlining every twig on the trees with white, and only melted briefly where the sun caught it. The ice round the edge of the loch hardened day by day. The mountain hares that lived on the higher slopes had turned white. The foraging continued, and the young dragons went to bed early and slept late. Emily didn’t mind about this, because it was when they were sitting round the fire in the gloaming that she missed her friends the most. It was better to go inside and read in bed until she fell asleep.

      Gwen had been right about the hibernating snails, but by the end of the week, the shelves in the main cave were better stocked with stores of roots and nuts to join the supplies of dried fruit, berries, beetles, slugs and fungi, and the remains of the seaweed that the children had brought back from their seaside expedition in the summer. Duncan had set off early on a rook-and-crow hunt, and Gwen decided that it was time to give the children a day off.

      “Go and see those young otters,” she said, “but be careful of the ice. I don’t suppose it will be frozen right across yet.”

      Tom and Emily took off together, and flew right over and around the loch to check before landing on their usual bit of bank. There was open water in the middle of the loch, but quite a wide area all round the edge was frozen. The otters came shooting up to the edge of the ice, climbed up and lolloped across to join them, sliding to a stop as they hit the bank.

      “Ye’ll no fall through on this bit,” said Wattie. “Tek a run and slide on yer belly. Like this, ken.” He demonstrated, sliding fast towards the edge and dropping into the water head first. He reappeared in seconds. “Hae a shot! S’great!” he called, climbing out again.

      “If ye dinnae want tae fall in, dig yer claws in tae stop yersel’,” advised Lottie, seeing Emily hesitate. Tom was already climbing onto the ice and preparing to run. He got speed up, then slid fast on his tummy, tail and wings held high, talons stretched sideways. As he got close to the open water, he obviously started to panic, dug his talons into the ice, spun round in a circle, skidded sideways and then disappeared over the edge in a tangle of wings and tail. Emily watched open-mouthed, wondering whether to rush to the rescue, but before she could move, Tom’s head appeared and he climbed out, dripping and looking rather stunned. Wattie was rolling over and over, laughing. Emily decided that she was not going to bother with this particular game!

      “It’s safer roond the bay,” Lottie said. “No sae guid fer slidin’ fast like, ‘cos o’ the reeds, but it’s no’ bad. C’m on.”

      She led the way along the bank, past a thicket of bulrushes, until they came to the shore of the bay. Wattie and Tom ran along the ice by the shore and joined them. In the centre of the bay, a broad path of flattened reeds showed where the young otters had been sliding before the ice thickened on the main loch. Emily decided this was safe enough, and was soon skating along as happily as the others, adding twirls to her performance, while Tom just worked at sliding faster and faster, trying to beat the otters. There was plenty of room in the bay, without venturing near the open water.

      Presently there was a flurry in the water, and the twins’ dad heaved himself onto the ice and slid towards them. “Aye, freezin’ grand!” he said, when he’d got his breath back. “Ah mind a braw wee game we played when Ah wiz a cub. Ah wilnae’ be a minute.” He disappeared behind the bulrushes, and reappeared a moment later with a sizeable flat pebble clutched in one paw. He placed it in the middle of a smooth patch of ice and they all gathered round gazing at it.

      “Richt, this is the Stane and ye’ve all got tails! This is wha’ ye dae! Oot th’ way...” He took a wide swipe with his powerful tail, and the stane skittered away over the ice. “Richt, aefter it!” The four of them ran, slipping and sliding, towards the stane. Lottie reached it first, swiped it with her tail towards Tom, who missed it. Emily, who was nearest, swung her tail as hard as she could and the stane shot across the ice towards open water. Wattie caught