The Gargoyle Overhead by Philippa Dowding Page A

Gargoth holding an apple was chained to its side.
    The second thing was that the chained statue took a bite of its apple.
    It wasn’t a statue! It was Gargoth himself!
    Ambergine squeaked. Her voice was gone. She spat her own apple out of her mouth and spluttered, trying to speak, but nothing would come out. She fell off the garden wall and rolled into the grass, helpless.
    Her wings failed her. Her voice failed her. She found she was sobbing, lying foolishly in the grass.
    But Gargoth had seen her fall from the wall and turned toward her, straining at his thick chain. “Who are you? Who is there?” his growly voice called.
    She was at his side in a second, hugging him with all her might. It took only a moment for her to fly to the top of the next statue and release him from his heavy length of chain.
    In a second he was free.
    They fell and stumbled and cried. They joined their claws together and skipped and whooped, breathless, across the huge walled garden. Gargoth howled at the moon and picked up rocks and threw them as hard as he could at nearby statues, breaking off many stone noses and wingtips. Both gargoyles crowed and laughed, giddy, like little children.
    Beside a pool with a gigantic statue of a Greek god, Gargoth and Ambergine danced and danced, splashing in the water as moonlight sparkled off the shimmering pool, gracing them with shadow and light.
    But suddenly Gargoth froze. A second later, one of the mansion windows flew open, and a man with a white hat and thick glasses thrust his head out.
    “What are you doing? Where are you?” came a loud, ugly voice.
    Before she understood what had happened, Gargoth shoved Ambergine to the ground behind an angel statue, and whispered, “Shhhh. Be still!” his voice breaking with fear.
    Ambergine looked into Gargoth’s terrified face and up at the face of the man in the window.
    She snarled, and her ears flattened against her head. She was reunited with the only thing that mattered to her in the entire world, and she was not going to let anything happen to him, ever again.
    One thing that Ambergine was really good at was hiding. She’d made a career of it, hiding among humans in busy cities for hundreds of years. So she did the one thing that made sense; she grabbed Gargoth by the claw, and together they hid in that gigantic walled garden of stone and grass and water.
    And no one was going to find them.

Gargoth’s Story, Last Year
    T-O-R-O-N-T-O
    Ambergine and Gargoth crept silently away from the statue of the Greek god, skirting the nearby statues, and moving as quickly as they could. They waddled and ran, Ambergine in the lead, urging Gargoth along.
    The man in the white straw hat slammed the window shut and vanished, but they knew he was coming. He would soon be out on the grounds among the statues, trying to find them.
    “Where should we go?” Ambergine gasped frantically. Gargoth seemed unable to answer her.
    She shook him and looked into his face. “Where? Gargoth, quickly! Where should we hide?”
    But he barely seemed to notice her. His eyes were suddenly sullen and clouded, and he would not look at her. She dragged him to the back of a giant rearing horse and rider statue, which blocked them completely from the mansion. She gained them a few moments’ time.
    “Gargoth! Look at me,” she began. But he would not. Instead he stared at the dark grass. “We don’t have much time. Gargoth, please!” she whispered. “You must tell me what’s wrong? Why won’t you run?”
    He looked at her evenly. “You can’t be real,” he said. “You simply cannot be here. It has been too long. One hundred and forty years, or more? I’ve lost count. I have been abandoned alone for too long to believe it is really you.” He turned away from her. “I have finally gone mad. Or perhaps I’ve died at last.” He squatted on his haunches and refused to move. Ambergine grew desperate.
    “No! No, Gargoth. You cannot give up now! You must believe it’s me!” She