The Warrior Sheep Down Under by Christopher Russell

Barton…” said Deidre soothingly. “There are no sheep. There’s nothing here.”
    The warriors managed to hold their breath under the mud until the humans had led a jabbering Alice away to the showers. Then, when everyone had gone, they slipped back out through the gap in the fence.
    â€œWhy did she scream like that?” asked Oxo, as they trotted away from the scene of all the noise and fuss.
    â€œWe frightened her, man,” said Links. “Even fairy godtingys get fright when they’re woken up too quick.”
    â€œWe’d frighten anyone looking like this,” moaned Jaycey. “Look at my poor fleece. Look at my hooves. Look at my…”
    â€œI don’t suppose,” said Wills, before Jaycey could add to the list, “you saw their truck from the top of the geyser? The one they call Trevor?”
    Jaycey thought, then shrugged. “Umm…It was over that way, I think.” She nodded vaguely in several directions.
    â€œMaybe we should find it and wait for the godtingy there,” Wills suggested. “While she’s getting over her fright.”
    â€¢ • •
    It took a lot of chamomile tea and concerned attendants bathing her forehead to settle Alice down. And a lot of showering to wash the gray mud off. And a lot of very expensive perfume to mask the smell of bad eggs. Nobody had mentioned how much that lingered. “Me Time” had been a disaster but Alice was determined to get a grip. The stakes were too high to be frightened off by a bunch of sheep. No matter who was behind them. She strode from the changing room, ready for anything, and with not a hair out of place.
    Shelly and Deidre were waiting. Deidre looked worried.
    â€œRight, poppets,” said Alice, with a brisk smile. “Brisbane.”
    â€œD’you want the good news or the bad news?” asked Shelly.
    Alice flinched, but only inwardly. “The bad,” she said, still smiling.
    â€œI’m afraid the airport’s closed, Miss Barton,” said Deidre. “For a week. They’re relaying the runway.”
    â€œAnd the good news?”
    Deidre wasn’t sure if it was good news or not. “Um, Skipper Ed phoned. Destiny ’s been repaired. He’s moored at Rotapangimouth. Awaiting your instructions.”
    â€œWhere’s Rotapangimouth?” asked Alice.
    â€œMouth of the Rotapangi River, strangely,” said Shelly. “About half an hour’s drive from here.”
    â€œAnd how long will it take to sail from there to Brisbane?”
    â€œDepends how fast your boat is. Three days?”
    Alice counted quickly on her fingers. “Excellent. We’ll still be in time. Deidre, phone Captain Ted and tell him we sail today. Then call a taxi.” She looked at Shelly. “Trevor is history—except as a luggage wagon. Meet us at the quayside.”
    Five minutes later, Alice and Deidre were being whisked away in a posh car.
    Shelly was quite happy to have Trevor to herself for a bit. She climbed in, made to start the engine, then stopped. And sniffed.
    â€œWhat the kiwi juice is that?” she said.
    She turned and saw five mud-covered sheep blinking at her from the rear seat. Shelly blinked back.
    It was a quick journey. Shelly took the back roads and arrived at Rotapangimouth quayside ten minutes before Alice and Deidre.
    â€œOut…” she said, holding Trevor’s door open for the warriors. It was an order but Shelly was laughing. “And don’t tell her I brought you here. Go on, move.” She grinned as the sheep wandered away. “Maybe see you in Oz.”
    â€œWhat’d she say?” asked Oxo.
    â€œSee you in Oz,” replied Wills. “I think that’s the same as Australia. Which is the other part of Down Under.” He stopped and stared. “Look!”
    They looked. And saw that they were standing slap bang in front of a large, sleek motor cruiser. The same motor