‘I now remember why I didn’t go in for the Duke of Edinburgh award,’ said Venus gloomily as she plodded along behind Skye and Pluto, ‘too much walking, too much heavy carrying and nowhere to plug in the hairdryer.’
They had only set off two hours ago and already Venus felt hot, sweaty, tired and irritable. They were trudging up a narrow, rock-strewn track that led steeply into the mountains. The sun beat down mercilessly on their backs and bounced off the red rocks around them. All of them wore broad brimmed hats to keep the sun off their heads. She tried not to giggle at the sight of Pluto’s ears poking through the specially cut holes in his hat. He looked absurd, but he carried himself with an air of colonial grandeur, like some noble and intrepid explorer. She herself had been kitted out in an outfit that reminded her of earnest TV documentaries about yak farmers in the Himalayas; a tunic made of linen, a pair of rather baggy trousers and thick leather walking boots, laced up the front, all of them in dun coloured shades. They weren’t exactly the height of fashion but they were better than pyjamas.
She glanced back wistfully at the Valley of Hope behind them, where she had spent a comfortable night with plenty of food and rest. The last of the crowds were dispersing after giving them a heroes’ send off. Thin grey spirals of smoke from their campfires snaked into the azure blue sky and the horned cattle grazed peacefully on the grassy plain. It would have been so nice to stay there a bit longer.
‘Come on Serenity,’ said Pluto after a few minutes. ‘We must press on.’
‘Oh for heaven’s sake will you stop calling me Serenity?’ snapped Venus, ‘it’s really getting on my nerves.’
Skye and Pluto stared at her, slightly hurt at her outburst. ‘But what would you have us call you?’
‘Venus will do.’
‘Venoos...said Skye thoughtfully.
‘No, Ven- oh never mind.’
‘By Cosmic Lore I am not allowed to call you anything else but by your correct title in my liturgical canon of correctitude,’ said Pluto.
‘Whatever,’ sighed Venus.
They trudged on up the twisting path. Pluto leapt over the rocks and boulders with catlike grace and Skye seemed equally agile. Venus felt disadvantaged and more than a little grumpy. Her clothes scratched at her skin and the leather of her walking boots rubbed at her heels. Only when the sun had reached its noonday zenith, glowering down on them with relentless ferocity, did Pluto allow them to stop under the shade of a sparse tree. They lunched on a rustic meal of coarse brown bread, cheese and the heavy red berries Venus had seen hanging from the bushes the night before, washed down with more water. It tasted surprisingly good. Venus began to feel sleepy and leant back against the spindly trunk of the tree. Pluto brought out a long brass pipe thing and proceeded to smoke some vile smelling tobacco. Suddenly he sat up bolt upright, his whiskers vibrating violently.
‘I sense danger! Quickly! Gather our belongings Skye.’
Seconds later Venus heard the piercing whistling noise coming towards them. She recognised it immediately – it was the same noise she’d heard in the pub cellar. Spy fish! The next thing she knew she was bundled behind a boulder with Pluto and Skye. They huddled together, holding their breath while the whistling sound came closer and closer. Unbearable seconds ticked by while it cruised past on the other side of the rock and the noise slowly receded into the distance. They exhaled with relief.
‘I think it’s gone, Sir,’ said Skye after a few moments. He began to move away but Pluto’s arm shot out and held him back. His whiskers were still vibrating.
