Child of the Cloud. Cameron Stelzer

the Oakbridge battalion will sniff you out a mile away and then tear you to shreds before you know what’s biting you.’

      ‘Rotten pies to sniffer hounds!’ Horace gasped, plunging his nose into an armpit. He raised his head a moment later and winced, ‘Oh boy, we’re in serious trouble …’

      

      The Highland Hounds

      Picking up a bowl of dried herbs from the mantelpiece, Mr Tribble stepped away from the fire and threw the entire contents into the roaring flames. Immediately a pungent grey smoke began billowing across the room and out of the door.

      ‘That should mask your scent until you’re safely into the trees,’ he coughed, bustling the three travellers from the cottage.

      ‘If it doesn’t choke us first,’ Horace spluttered.

      ‘Once you reach the classrooms, I’d suggest you get airborne,’ Mr Tribble advised. ‘You won’t see them coming and there are too many places the dogs can trap you.’

      Chatterbeak flapped his wings in anticipation. Horace hugged the two children goodbye as Mr Tribble gave Whisker his final instructions.

      ‘The map in your possession will tell you everything I know about Cloud Mountain,’ he said. ‘The nesting territories of the four species of birds are clearly marked, but I’m afraid to say the exact location of the feast remains a mystery to me. Few creatures have visited the mountain and returned to share its secrets. Fewer still have attempted an expedition during the first month of autumn.’

      He pointed skywards to the ominous grey clouds. ‘Heavy snowfalls at the end of the monsoon season increase the threat of avalanches. And there’s always the risk of capture.’

      Whisker nodded apprehensively and turned to go.

      ‘Follow Eagle’s Pass to the lakeside village of Hawk’s View,’ Mr Tribble added. ‘Once you have crossed Lake Azure, head for the boulders above Blackbird Wood. It’s the logical place to commence your search and may provide you with a clue.’

      ‘Thank you,’ Whisker said. And with a quick wave to Eaton and Emmie, he wrapped his scarf around his mouth and dived into the smoky undergrowth.

      Hazy black shadows drifted across the forest floor, shrouding the three companions as they ran. Blindly, they scampered over thick beds of pine needles, ducking and weaving past low branches and moss-covered logs. Quickly losing any sense of direction, they took whatever paths they could find, often leading to wrong turns and sudden dead ends.

      Despite their slow progress, there was no thought of flight. A bird of Chatterbeak’s size had little chance of ascending through the dense layers of branches, especially with two heavily-dressed Pie Rats as passengers.

      Whisker grew more anxious as the vegetation thickened, and his thoughts increasingly turned to Ruby. He knew the champion swords-rat was better equipped than any of them to defend herself, yet skill and experience were little protection against a pack of savage dogs.

      As he blundered into yet another dead end, his mind swept back over the two short months they had known each other. Side-by-side, they had faced more challenges than most friends saw in a lifetime, conquering everything life threw at them. Not even jealous sisters, exploding cliff tops and an army of soldier crabs could tear them apart.

      But right now there was a sprawling forest between them, and Whisker felt powerless to help her.

      The soft gurgle of running water grew louder and Whisker realised in dismay that their wayward path had taken them in the opposite direction to the entrance gates.

      From his flight into the school grounds earlier that morning, he knew that Oakbridge Primary had been built in a bend of the Hawk River. The river formed the boundary on the western and southern sides of the school, with the entrance gates lying to the east and the juniper wood covering the entire northern perimeter.

      After berating himself for not taking a compass bearing earlier, Whisker decided that the swiftest way to reach Ruby was to head for the river and escape the dense undergrowth. Once they were in the open, they could fly east over the school oval and make their way past the classrooms to the entrance gates.

      Making up for lost time, the three companions quickened their pace and followed the sounds of the river. It wasn’t long before the trees began to thin and the lush, green grass of the school oval came into view through the gaps in the undergrowth.

      A high wooden fence stood at the western edge of the oval. Beyond it, the land dropped away sharply to reveal a rocky cliff face leading to the icy waters of the Hawk River.

      As Whisker stepped onto the open field, the steady babble of the river was drowned out by the loud bark of angry dogs.

      Horace drew his sword.

      ‘I’ve either got super hearing or those mangy mutts are much closer than the entrance gates!’ he exclaimed.

      Whisker pulled out his spyglass and extended it towards the far end of the oval. A large pack of dogs was bounding past the open door of the sports shed, howling and barking as they ran. They hadn’t spotted Whisker and his companions, but they were clearly in pursuit of something – or someone.

      Whisker swept the spyglass in an arc over the oval until he spotted a small figure dressed in red. Ruby was running for her life, her spiked hiking boots tearing up the turf, her cherry-red winter coat flowing behind her.

      ‘She’ll break a record for the hundred metre sprint at the pace she’s going!’ Horace called out, squinting into the distance.

      ‘Not against a greyhound,’ Whisker said in dismay, leaping onto Chatterbeak’s back. ‘Come on! The dogs are gaining on her!’

      As Horace threw himself up behind Whisker, there was a sudden howl from the trees behind them.

      ‘FLY!’ Whisker yelled, tugging at Chatterbeak’s feathers. ‘NOW!’

      Chatterbeak didn’t need any more encouragement. He flapped his powerful wings and rose into the air as a huge Rhodesian ridgeback came bounding out of the undergrowth. Snarling and frothing at the mouth, it made a desperate leap for Chatterbeak’s tail feathers but the parrot wheeled to the right just in time, leaving the dog snapping at thin air. With two more flaps of his wings, the rats were high above the barking dog and heading towards their escaping companion.

      In the centre of the field, Ruby was struggling to shake off her pursuers. Several greyhounds and a whippet had broken away from the other dogs and were rapidly closing the gap, their lean bodies slicing through the grass like knives.

      ‘We need to buy her some time,’ Whisker hissed to Chatterbeak as they neared two dachshunds at the back of the pack. ‘Can you do anything?’

      ‘They don’t call me Chatterbeak for nothing,’ the parrot chirped, diving towards the dogs. ‘Cover your ears - the dragon’s about to roar!’

      The loud-mouthed macaw let out an ear-splitting SKWRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAR!

      It was the most horrible sound Whisker had ever heard. High-pitched and piercing, it rang out across the oval like a hundred dying hyenas. Instantly, half of the dogs dropped to the ground, clutching their ears and yelping in hysterics. Those who managed to stay on their feet abandoned their chase and spun around to face the terrifying beast. Their fear evaporated in an instant when they saw the colourful parrot gliding overhead.

      ‘Pull yourselves together, you cowardly corgis,’ barked a greyhound at the front