Storm Singing and other Tangled Tasks Read Free

time.”
    Yann frowned as Roxburgh’s voice ripped up the cliff towards them. “Is he better than Rona?”
    “Not better than Rona, but he sings the traditional songs with a huge amount of emotion. Listen.”
    “It’s like he’s torturing the words,” said Yann.
    “It’s crowd pleasing. He’s singing it the way they all wish they could.”
    Roxburgh flung himself into the chorus, sounding as if he was about to burst into tears, or scream in murderous anger, with every single note. Helen sighed, and turned round to check on the creature.
    And the sun went behind a cloud.
    As the sunlight dimmed, the shadow vanished.
    Helen could see a transparent figure. Its purple skeleton. Its pink innards. Its see-through stomach, filled with two partially digested fish.
    “Yuck! Look at this.”
    Yann stretched round, but the sun reappeared and dazzled them both.
    As the sharp black shade hid the spy again, Helen saw one more thing.
    A bag. A thin fishskin bag, like Rona’s mum carried. On the ground at the spy’s feet. Wriggling.
    “What did you see?” asked Yann.
    “It’s like a jellyfish squished into a gingerbread-man shape, and it has a bag, filled with something moving, something alive .”
    Helen heard the first few notes of Roxburgh’s own composition, a battle hymn about his selkie king ancestors, as she whispered urgently to Yann, “What do we do?”
    “We attack it before it attacks the selkies!”
    “If it’s going to attack them, why didn’t it attack at the start? And what’s in the bag?”
    “Weapons, perhaps, or something it’s planning to tip on the selkies’ heads. We can’t wait until it attacks to find out.” Yann pushed up from his kneeling front legs. “I’ll grab the bag.”
    “Don’t be silly. You can’t creep up on it with hooves. I’ll go.”
    “Don’t be daft. You’re not …”
    Helen didn’t have time for a repeat of the eeny-meeny - miny-mo argument on the beach, and Yann couldn’t shout after her without alerting the spy, so she ignored him and slid round the rock on her tummy.
    She crawled through the dry grass. If the creature looked round, her red fleece and blue jeans would be easy to see, but it had its back to her and the gentlerustling of her approach was covered by Roxburgh’s loud voice.
    When she was halfway to the spy’s rock, she saw a pale arm move inside the shadow, reaching for the writhing grey bag.
    The creature was about to launch its attack!

Chapter 3
    Helen had no time to be slow and careful now. She scrambled to her feet, and ran forward at a crouch. Then she heard thudding behind her and a yell of, “ Down! ”
    She fell to the ground as huge hooves sliced over her head and smashed onto the earth just in front of her.
    Helen leapt up and ran after the centaur. When she reached the rock, Yann was on the far side, tall and solid, arms crossed, blocking the spy’s route to the cliff edge.
    Helen nodded in approval. Yann wasn’t planning to fight this odd beast, just stop it attacking the assembly below. She matched his position on the other side of the boulder, aware of the cliff edge four steps behind her, but standing strong, feet shoulder-width apart, like she was ready to perform onstage.
    Helen heard Roxburgh start his improvised song, about killer whales stalking seals. He sang with less power than normal, as if he was saving his voice, which made no sense because this was his last song.
    Helen couldn’t see Yann because the rock was between them, but she could see the creature’s shimmering back. She heard the centaur’s confident voice, pitched low so he didn’t disturb the singer below. “Don’t move any closer, mucus monster.”
    The creature swung round to face Helen. Its skinny body was made of see-through jelly, filled with thin purple bones and pink internal organs. Helen recognised the throbbing heart and expanding lungs from her mum’s anatomy books. She looked up from the two large fish disintegrating in the creature’s