The Song of the Winns by Frances Watts

them,” reported Tibby.
    â€œYes!” cried Alistair. “Tibby Rose and Alistair shall never vanquish’d be!”
    They careened down the slope, every bump threatening to dislodge them. “Lean hard right!” Alistair yelled, and they narrowly avoided colliding with a tree.
    Then, as they plummeted into a dip and flew out the other side, he saw a blur of red through the branches. “Oh no!” he said as the blur came into focus. “There’re two guards right in front of us!”
    â€œBarrel straight through,” Tibby advised breathlessly.
    The sled sailed down the slope toward the two guards.
    â€œHalt!” yelled the first guard.
    â€œGet out of the way, you idiot!” his partner called, yanking him back by his red coat. “It’s a runaway tree!”
    Then the vista was white once more and the only sound was the whoosh of the wind. They flew down a steep icy funnel lined on either side with towering trees, then shot out onto a wide slope that flattened out for fifty meters orso before dropping away again. The sled slowed to a stop.
    â€œWe’ll have to pull it across this bit,” Alistair said urgently, and he and Tibby struggled free of the branches’ prickly embrace.
    â€œWait,” said Tibby, as Alistair was preparing to climb back into position at the front of the sled. “I’ve got a better idea. What if we push the sled off without us? If the Queen’s Guards are following the tracks of the sled’s runners they’ll go that way. . . .” Tibby pointed down the slope. “We’ll go this way.” She indicated the forest to their right.
    Following Tibby’s lead, Alistair hastily untied his feather snowshoes and rucksack from the sled and slung the latter over his shoulder. Then together they pushed the sled, still bearing its tree teepee, down the slope. Alistair felt a pang of regret as it sailed out of sight.
    â€œNow we’ll get rid of the evidence.” Using one of her feathers like a broom, Tibby began to sweep away their footsteps. Then she walked backward into the trees, brushing away her footsteps as she went.
    Alistair copied her, walking backward until they were well hidden by the trees.
    Tibby put a finger to her lips. “Let’s watch and see.”
    They didn’t have long to wait. Only minutes later three red-clad figures shot past them as swiftly as arrows.
    Alistair turned to his friend. “Brilliant, Tibby! That’s bought us some time.” But Tibby Rose appeared to be shaking uncontrollably.
    â€œTibby, what’s wrong?” Alistair asked, then he saw thatshe was convulsed in giggles. “It’s a runaway tree!” she gasped, and they both collapsed to the ground in laughter. The cold of the snow was like a balm on Alistair’s skin after the irritation of the pine needles and for a few minutes he enjoyed the relief that came with laughter, the feeling of all tension dropping away. But all too soon the reality of their situation came back into focus. At the speed the Queen’s Guards were traveling, it wouldn’t be long before they caught up with the sled and found it empty. And then they would come looking for the two ginger mice who had crossed the border. . . . His concern must have shown in his eyes, because when Tibby met his gaze her laughter faded and she stood up. Without a word, they turned and headed deeper into the forest.
    They walked for hours through the trees, Alistair in the lead and, although several times they heard voices in the distance, they didn’t encounter anymore Sourian patrols. The two young mice tried to keep their own conversation to a minimum, speaking only in low murmurs. As they hiked farther down into the valley, the snow became patchy, giving way to meadows of soft green grass. They came across blueberry bushes, and then a patch of small, sweet wild strawberries, which they fell on ravenously. Tibby Rose paused