Amber shivered as she took a last gulp of water and slung Fleck over her shoulder. Mother had taken the coats with her when she left. Bowing her head so that Fleck wouldn’t see the tear rolling onto her beak, she took one last look at the message the scarecrow had left last night to warn them the raccoons were planning an ambush. They had already wasted enough time, putting off the inevitable until the last second, and they would have suffered the consequences if not for the letter. 

As they stole through the shadowy trees, Amber could already smell the raccoons. They had a harsh, musty smell that always warned her they were near, and had saved her and her family’s lives many times. When they had been running for so long that the sun was blaring in the sky, Amber put Fleck on the ground so he could walk on his own. They took one last look at Olive-tree wood before stumbling off in the opposite direction. 

Fleck tired after a few hours, so they stopped early to set up camp for the night. Amber quickly threw some doc leaves over the entrance to the small cave they had found and then settled down next to her brother, who was already fast asleep. For the millionth time, Amber imagined how much easier the journey would be if Fleck was able to fly, but he hadn’t even practised yet. Elderflower hill was miles away, and Amber was beginning to wonder if the luscious grass and fresh leaves were even worth it, although Mother had assured them in the letters that it was. As she slowly drifted into an uneasy doze, there was one question on her mind – would they ever make it to the safe haven?