The Island Of Destiny. Cameron Stelzer

three-horned chameleon …’

      ‘No, no,’ the Hermit said in alarm.

      ‘We made it out alive,’ the Captain reassured him. ‘But it was an explosive experience to say the least – our master gunner, Horace, blew up half the cliff top trying to escape.’

      The Hermit nodded in amusement and Whisker looked back at the riddle, pondering.

      ‘We never did work out what enlighten your mind meant …’ His voice drifted off and there was a long pause.

      ‘Perhaps we need the King’s Key after all,’ the Captain said, with a tinge of regret. ‘I dare say there’s a detail on its painted surface we somehow overlooked.’

      Whisker knew the Captain wasn’t laying blame, but it didn’t stop a feeling of guilt overwhelming him. He thought it best he kept his mouth shut and wandered off to find another hole to dig.

      He’d only scooped out a few pawfuls of dirt when he heard the Hermit approaching.

      ‘Hermit wonders where key was lost in lagoon?’ the Hermit asked eagerly.

      Whisker had no desire to relive the experience, but decided an honest reply would be the quickest way to end the discussion once and for all.

      ‘I lost the key to the north-west of the last rock,’ he admitted. ‘It happened when the eel dragged our bow under the water. I should have been more careful, I know.’

      The Hermit patted Whisker on the shoulder and gave him a reassuring smile.

      ‘Giant eel no friendly goldfish,’ he laughed. ‘Not to worry. Lagoon has rocky bottom. Key waits for rats. Rats dive for key, yes, yes?’

      ‘Err, sure,’ Whisker said, not wanting to dampen the Hermit’s enthusiasm. ‘But what about the eel?’

      ‘Eel not coming back, no, no,’ the Hermit chuckled. ‘Pie Rats took care of eel.’

      Whisker was somewhat reassured by the Hermit’s response, but his tail still shivered at the thought of swimming across the lagoon. Experience had taught him that even the vilest of creatures could have a mate – or a family.

      The Hermit continued excitedly, ‘Hermit has small rowboat, yes, yes. Driftwood hull. Seaweed camouflage. Not ocean-ready like raft but sturdy enough for lagoon. Hermit takes rats to beach.’

      ‘Tomorrow, perhaps,’ the Captain said, joining the conversation. ‘It seems we’ve been on this mountain longer than any of us have realised.’

      Whisker looked west to where the sun hung low in the sky. Clouds gathered overhead, swirling in the gusty winds.

      The Hermit took one look at the brewing storm and nodded in agreement. ‘Key fishing tomorrow. Boiled onions tonight.’

      Treasureless, the three rats packed up their belongings and hurriedly set off towards the Hermit’s lair.