The Secret of the Ginger Mice by Song of the Winns

presence. So would any attempt to clamber back onto the path.
    â€œWhat was that?” Horace asked, his voice quavering.
    Alice saw her brother give a start as he realized the voice was coming from directly above him, and then shrink into the shadow of the boulder.
    â€œI don’t know,” said Sophia sharply. Considering that she had been woken abruptly from her sleep, she sounded very alert. “But something brushed my tail. It was hanging over the edge of the rock there and I distinctly felt something.” She peered over the edge of the boulder, but darkness concealed both Alex trembling in the shadows and Alice, hanging from the path’s edge.
    Her fingertips were aching, and her wrists, and it seemed to her that her grip was weakening. What should she do? She didn’t know how much longer she could cling on like this.
    â€œDo you think it might have been a b-b-bat?” Horace wanted to know.
    â€œMaybe,” said Sophia. She was squinting down the path now, but was apparently satisfied that there wasnothing there, for she turned her gaze to the sky. “Or maybe a bird of prey. An eagle, perhaps.”
    â€œA-a-an eagle?” Horace shrieked.
    Clearly small matters like birds of prey, with their grasping claws and ferocious beaks that could tear a mouse in two, didn’t worry Sophia, because she dismissed the empty sky with a shake of her head and said, “Or perhaps it was a boogedy monster. Come on, Horace, we’ve hardly slept a wink. I know I don’t need my beauty sleep”—she stroked her long whiskers vainly—“but I’d like it all the same.” And she lay back down on the boulder.
    â€œA boogedy monster?” said Horace in alarm. “What’s a boogedy monster? Sophia, what’s a boogedy monster?”
    â€œThere, there, Horace, dear. No boogedy monster can hurt you as long as I’m here.” Alice thought she heard the silvery mouse chuckling to herself as Horace sank to the ground and curled up beside her.
    Alice’s arm muscles were screaming with pain now, her fingers numb where they gripped the cold rock. She saw Alex take a tentative step forward, and she followed him with her eyes, willing him to meet her gaze. Wasn’t there supposed to be a special bond between triplets? Or maybe that was twins, and the bond was lessened when it was spread over three siblings. She had to admit that neither Alex nor Alistair had ever shown any ability toread her mind at all. Just her luck to have brothers; she was sure a sister would have sensed her despair, her tiring arms, her weakening hold. She would have to cry out. She couldn’t hang on any longer. . . .
    She had just opened her mouth to call to her brother when she felt strong hands grasp her wrists. It was Alex, silent but with a determined expression on his face, hauling her up to the safety of the path.
    Seconds later, Alice lay panting on the ground, concealed from the mice above by the cover of a rock shelf. Weak with relief, she lay motionless for a few minutes, watched by her anxious brother, then she sat up and flexed her wrists and fingers, which were stiff and sore, and attempted to rub feeling back into her arms.
    They sat quietly for a long time, listening to the deep breathing above and trying to recover from the shock of Alice’s narrow escape. Finally, as the first faint licks of dawn painted the sky, Alex mouthed, “Let’s go,” and they stood, stretched, and trudged off along the path.
    They walked for a couple of hours, long enough to see the dark mountain above turn purple and then a cool dazzling white as the sun eased into the sky. Although they didn’t discuss it, Alice felt sure that Alex’s thoughts must mirror her own. Whereas they had set off with the intention of following Horace and Sophia in the hope of overhearing something, now her only thought wasto push on. By daylight it all seemed very clear. Alistair