---

I walked a long way, following the road toward Noton Sumut. I knew the road led there, because I'd often seen it from the zepper. I had to turn left at the first junction, and right at the second.

But after I'd walked for hours, with no humans or dromes or zeppers in sight, I began to wonder if I'd missed the junction. At this point the road ran along the side of a hill. I decided to leave the road, climb up to the top, and get a better view of where I was.

On top of the next ridge, far to my left, was Salobolas's ugly yellow-topped dome. That meant I still had a long way to go to the first junction, and Noton Sumut was a long way past that.

Surely that can't be right, I thought. It must have been midday already, judging by the height of the sun, which was trying to shine through gaps in the fast-moving clouds.

As I climbed back down to the road, beside a line of bushes, something grabbed my shoulder. I leaped around, my heart beating madly with fright.

My shoulder was being held by a night-black hand.

"What do you think you're doing up here?" a voice growled.

It was a man, young, but a lot bigger than me. His skin was so dark I could hardly see him at first.

A woman's voice came out of the bushes behind me. "Who is it, Jimmy?"

"I believe it's a household pet, a tame lapboy," said the man.

"Oh, it's you!" said the woman, stepping out from the bushes. It was the black woman I met the other day. This time she wasn't carrying a buckub. Instead her kangaroo skin was tied in front like an apron, filled with sticks.

"Let him go, Jimmy, he's a friend." She couldn't have said anything that pleased me more. A friend! So I'm a friend.

"Come into the camp," she said. "Too windy here."

Crouching down on all fours, she ran under the bushes. I and Jimmy followed her. In a few minutes we came to a flat rocky area. A huge rock overhung slightly, forming a slight cave.

At one edge of the flat area a little fire was burning, with the wild wind blowing smoke in all directions, but specially into my eyes, which stung like mad. A girl was there: older than Zicky, almost grown up. She was wearing a dark furry cloak, and pulling all the feathers off a dead galah, getting ready to cook it in the fire. They were having a picnic. What fun!

"Here's Keddy," the woman told her, stoking up the fire with some of the sticks she'd collected.

"I'm Deva, said the girl. "We're the Indidni family. And this is Mahama, our mother." I was amazed to hear this: I thought only little kids had mothers.

"So how's life over at the palace?" Mahama asked me. I looked puzzled. "Your deluxe drome-dome, that is."

"You mean at home?" I said anxiously.

The three of them laughed at me.

"It's terrible!"I said, with great feeling. "Zicky's still away, and yesterday they went and bought this horrible boy to keep me company. But..."

I swallowed hard, trying not to cry.

"Tell me," I said. "Have you ever heard of a drome named Glozbzolg, in the city?"

They all looked at each other.

"Of course not," said the mother. "We keep right away from cities. They're full of bad people."

"Like Glozbzolg?" I said eagerly.

"No, I mean people. We have nothing to do with dromes."

"Nothing whatsoever!" said Deva.

"We don't usually come this close," said Jimmy. "We stick around the river Murrum. But there was a bad drought last summer, and not much fish or fowl."

"Plenty of galahs!" said Deva, and giggled.

"And dogs!" said Jimmy. "Lost any dogs lately?"

"We don't keep dogs," I said. "But my friend Hanny lost an Alsatian a few weeks ago. He thinks some leopards might have killed it."

"Recognize this?" said Jimmy, pointing to Deva's cloak. I hadn't looked at it closely before, but now I could see on the inside a silvery-black fur.

"It looks a bit like that dog," I said. "Did you kill it?"

They all cheered at me. I felt stupid.

"I hated that dog," I said, with feeling. "It always barked at me and scared me."

"Won't bother you no more," said Mahama. "That's the third good thing we've done with it. Not only did we make a curry and a cloak, but we soothed the nerves of sensitive neighbourhood pets."

Everyone was silent for a moment. The wind had gone down, and the fire was burning really well now. Deva had speared one galah with a garden fork, and was holding it over the fire to roast.

"I need to find my sister," I said urgently.

"Well, off you go," said Deva. "We're not stopping you."

"But I don't know where to go."

"The city, you said. Follow the road." Jimmy pointed. "You're welcome to it."

"But it's so far away!" I said.

"So damn close!" said Jimmy.

"How can I get there?"

"Keep putting one foot in front of the other," said Deva. "It's called walking."

"I don't know where to go when I get there."

"You know the name. Just keep asking."

"Ask who? Dromes?"

They all laughed at me again.

"Dromes are not going to tell you nothing, kid," Jimmy said. "You've got to ask people. Natives, like us. Don't ask the pets: they're ignorant."

It started to rain, softly at first, then harder. I ducked back under the overhanging rock.

"What's wrong with you," Jimmy called to me.

"I just don't feel like getting rained on," I called back.

"What a wimp!" said Jimmy.

"I hate it too," said Deva passionately.

Why doesn't she come under the rock with me? I wondered. It was keeping most of the rain off, but she and Mahama were fussing over the fire, stoking it up to try and stop the rain putting it out.

"Where do you sleep?" I asked, suddenly wondering.

"Next to the fire," Deva grumbled. "Like animals."

"Why don't you live in a proper dome?"

"Hah!" said Mahama.

A thought came to me. "Look," I said, pointing to the next ridge. The rain had passed now, so I came out from under the rock. "See that yellow dome over there?" I said.

"Dromes live there," said Jimmy.

"One drome lives there by himself. His name's Salobolas. And right now, he's away on holiday. He won't be back for a month, so you could stay there. I'm sure he wouldn't mind."

They looked at each other disbelievingly.

"It's true!" I said.

"Sounds good," Jimmy said. "But of course it would be locked."

"There could be fierce dogs," said Mahama.

"I heard somebody made the last one into a cloak," I said. Jimmy laughed.

"Let's go and look," Deva begged. But Mahama was shaking her head, and Jimmy seemed doubtful. Somehow I felt I had to talk them into it. "The main doors will be shut, but they'll open if you ask them nicely. Like this" (I demonstrated) "Kljjjlk! That means Open, in drometalk. The doors understand you, even if the dromes don't."

While they practised their Kljjjlk noises, I continued. "It'll be really comfortable for you in there. You can all sleep on his great big bed - "

"A bed!" said Mahama, obviously impressed.

" - and his coolroom will be full of food." (Well, it might be. Pity dromes don't eat meat, but there might be some for Hanny.)

"Dream on," said Jimmy to Deva, who was looking excited.

"We'll think about that idea, if the weather gets worse," Mahama told me. "Thank you for suggesting it, Keddy. But now, you better get going. We've got a meal to cook here."

I didn't really want to go: that galah smelt better than I thought possible. I was just standing up reluctantly when a familiar whooshing sound came over the ridge behind us. A zepper.

"Oh, no!" Mahama wailed. "Dromes."

"We're done for," said the man. "They'll kill us."

It was a green zepper, and it looked familiar to me. Probably one of the local farmers.

"Dromes don't kill humans," I said, wondering where all my companions had got to.

"They've seen our fire!" Deva wailed, from inside a nearby bush. "They'll put it out with their horrible black foam, and it will smother us."

"And there goes our bloody dinner!" said Mahama's voice, from another bush.

"Look," I said. "It's landing up there. I'll go and talk to them."

"Don't talk about us!" yelled Deva.

I ran up to the zepper. The drome opened his window. It was a farmer I'd often seen. "Hello, boy!" he said. "You're one of Tamomat's, aren't you?"

I nodded sadly, wondering if I could escape being captured.

"Did you make that fire? Naughty! I'll put it out." His zepper had a squirtrix underneath, as the local ones often do. He pointed the squirtrix at the fire, and pressed a button. A massive squirt roared out, quenching the fire with a film of sticky black goo.

"That's better," said the drome. I remembered his name now: Gerogery. "It's a bad wind today. We don't want any bushfires, even at this time of year," he added, stretching out one of his long arms and grabbing me around my chest. "And you're a long way from home, boy. I'd better take you back."

"Don't!" I wailed. But at least, I thought, this is distracting him from murdering my new friends. I'll just have to start my journey again tomorrow.

Gerogery pulled me into the zepper through the window, and we rose slowly into the air. There was no sign of my friends.

Doesn't he remember where the Zims live? I thought. We were heading for Noton Sumut. I could already see its hundred domes on the last ridge before the plains.

"I'll drop you off after I've been to the village," said Gerogery. "Got to pick up some supplies."

In a few minutes we landed on the hexagon at Noton Sumut.

"Stay there, boy," said Gerogery, shutting me in. "I'll be back." He strolled off to the far side of the hexagon to talk to another drome. There must have been twenty zeppers there. I craned my neck along one edge of the window, trying to see if the one that took Zicky was among them. I couldn't see them all properly, but one of them was definitely white. I pressed my whole body against the window, trying to see around a zepper that was in the way, when suddenly the window zipped open. I'd pressed the lever that makes the window fold up. A cold wind blew in, so I leaned on the lever again, trying to shut it. But I couldn't press the other side so hard.

I'd be in big trouble, I knew, if Gerogery came back and found I'd opened the window. I was surprised I was strong enough.

Then I had a thought. I looked out the window, down at the ground. Could I simply jump down and run away? After all, this quick flight had brought me halfway to Adalada, saving a long, long walk.

It's no use, I told myself. I'd be caught. There are dromes all over the place.

There was a human, too. A woman carrying a huge bag on her back. She noticed me looking at her, and called out. "Hey, petface, you up there! What are you staring at?"

"Just your bag," I said. "I was wondering what could be inside it."

"Come down and see. Give me a hand with it. It's as heavy as buggery."

I looked down at the ground again. It was a long way - for a human.

"Scared of jumping?" she taunted. "Bit of a baby, are we? Guarding our master's zepper?"

"I could easily jump down if I wanted to," I said.

The next second, I found myself doing it. My feet had kicked all by themselves, and the ground arrived at high speed.

"Ouuuuuuuch!" I groaned.

"You didn't have to show off like that," she complained, pulling me up with one arm. "Now your elbow's bleeding. And you'll be in trouble with your owner, for jumping out. Where do you think you're going?"

I was headed for the nearby bushes, limping as fast as I could. She chased after me.

"He's not my owner!" I shouted. "He kidnapped me, and I'm escaping to look for my sister."

"You won't escape far with that elbow," she said crossly. "You're leaving a trail of blood. Better come home with me and fix it up. Just as well I live close by."

I hobbled behind her, on a path through a cypress forest, almost bouncing on the deep carpet of fallen needles. On the far side of the grove was a drome-dome, and right next to it was a strange little building: a square one, with log walls and a pointed glass roof. The woman (whose name was Bimmy) led me towards it.

"What on earth is that?" I said.

"My house," Bimmy said proudly. "I live there, with my family."

"Oh, you mean your kennel." (Hanny has a kennel.)

"No, a house. You're an ignorant boy if you haven't heard of houses."

"Look!" I said, amazed. It even had a door - the old-fashioned type, with a handle, that you pull. And it had little windows, so low I could see through them.

Bimmy led me inside. The house had more than one room, because there was another door in the middle of it. There was a tiny little human-size table (the old-fashioned type, with legs).

"This is the best kennel I've ever seen!" I exclaimed.

Bimmy plonked her big bag down on the table, and started to pull things out, ignoring me. Three packets of food, the smallest you can buy, but a lot for a human to carry.

"I bought them all by myself," she said proudly. "Inkipikni, our drome, has told the storedrome to serve me." She did a funny little dance for a few seconds. Suddenly, she didn't seem so old. "Now, let's see about your elbow," she added.

"It's already stopped bleeding," I pointed out. It was still hurting though.

She went around to the back of the house - there was even a tiny human-sized tap, the old-fashioned type with a handle. She poured out some water, and cleaned the blood off my elbow. This wasn't a good idea: it made it hurt more. But I put up with it, because I'm brave. Also I didn't want to hurt her feelings.

I was lying on the table while she did this. A big cat pushed the door open, and came in mewing loudly. I was petrified with fear, lying as still as I could so it wouldn't attack me.

"Don't be silly," said Bimmy. "This is Kitty, our pet cat."

"A pet cat?" I said, laughing. "But you're a pet yourself. How can a pet have a pet?"

"Easy!" she snapped, stroking its horrible neck and crooning at it. "Wou's our wittle fwiend, isn't wou, Kitty?"

The creature gave a nasty purr and sat down, staring at me.

"Why does your kennel have a glass roof?" I asked.

"So Inkipikni can watch us doing things. He's very interested in what we do. He certainly keeps an eye on us!" she laughed. "Sometimes he brings his friends and they all stand around and watch me cooking."

She told me that, as well as a pet cat, she had a man called Gorky, and two grown-up children. "We had three others," she added sadly. "Inkipikni gave them away to his friends. But we made such a fuss he let us keep Appy and Uppy.

"Can I meet them?" I asked. "Where are they now?"

"Working on the other side of the farm. No, you can't meet them. Gorky doesn't approve of me bringing strangers home."

"Why not?"

"He's worried Inkipikni might throw us out. Our drome hates stray humans."

"But I'm not a stray. I'm a pet."

She shook her head. "Gorky won't like it. Other humans damage things, he says." She took down an old-fashioned broom that was hanging on the wall, and started sweeping all around me, pushing dust and me out the door.

"Off you go now," she said. "Good luck with your sister. Do call in with her, next time you pass by. But make sure it's in the morning, before Gorky gets home."

I took a path that Bimmy had told me about: back through the cypress grove, another track led downhill to Adalada. It was overgrown with weeds. Nobody had walked on it for a long time. The cypress pines overhead shaded it from inquisitive zeppers and dropped their needles on the ground, making the path soft on my feet.

It felt so good that I wrapped my blanket around me, and rolled down as far as I could.

When you're rolling out of control, it's hard to stop. I don't know how I did it, but I rolled myself to a stop where the path turned a corner, just before it dropped into a creek. The water was freezing cold, but I managed to cross the creek by jumping from stone to stone. On the far side, I looked for the path. It had disappeared. That didn't bother me. It was easy, walking under the cypress trees. Their needles and fallen bark carpeted the ground, making a soft cushion for my feet. The few weeds I found were easily brushed aside: it was too dark under the trees for anything else to grow large.

Then I crossed some invisible line on the valley: the cypresses stopped, and a tangled mess of blackberry vines appeared in front of me. There was no way I could get through.

I knew what to do. I went back under the cypresses and walked downhill till I met the stream again. It had to go down to the sea. All I needed to do was follow it.

I splashed a lot, letting any nasty creatures know I was on my way. I didn't expect any snakes in winter, but I'm scared of eels. The splashing was fun, but my legs froze. At least I stopped feeling my sore elbow. Huge vines crossed above the stream, like a giant green spider web. I often had to duck down. Sometimes I had to crawl through the stream.

"There must be easier ways to walk to Adalada," I said to myself.

Nobody answered. I felt lonely. Every time I speak to myself, I'm really speaking to Zicky.

"Zicky, help me!" I called. Just in case.

No answer. Not even a bird, or buzzing insects. I could feel myself getting ready to howl. There was only one thing to do. I had to become Zicky, as well as myself.

"You're cold, Keddy," I said, in her voice. "You're not having any fun, are you?"

"No," I admitted.

"Come and sit on this rock," I said, pretending to be her. "You never have a stretchy time if your legs are freezing. Look, it's sunny up here."

So I sat on the rock for a while, and looked down the valley. "See that, Keddy?" I said. "The beginning of the Adalada Plains. There are lots of farms down there, and lots of paths. And you're hungry, aren't you?"

I nodded.

"You'll find plenty of food down there too. Let's get going."

So I jumped back into the stream, dodged some overhanging blackberry bushes, and splashed on. Soon I was lucky: the thick weeds disappeared, replaced by tall gum trees and grass, and it was easy to walk beside the stream. Flocks of lorikeets rose up in front of me, squawking away. A family of kangarangs jumped up and ran off; they must have been lying in the grass nearby and heard me coming. In the distance a dog started barking. Then I noticed there were no hills beside me.

"You're on the plains, Keddy," I told myself. "You're lower than you've ever been."

I deliberately made her lie, just so I could catch her out.

"That's not quite true, Zicky," I pointed out. "Don't forget the times the Zims took us down to Glenelg and we played on the beach while they had meetings."

"Oh, stretchy!" she said. "Didn't we have maaarvelous fun?"

I sounded so much like her that I almost started howling again.

"Don't worry, Zicky," I promised. "I'll rescue you, wherever you are."

I was hungry now, and the sun was going down. It had taken me all day to come down the hill. And ahead of me, there was still no sign of Adalada: no domes were in sight. But where I was walking now, it was almost a path.

After a while I noticed a different kind of tree, covered in oranges.

Food! I thought. Stretchy! I ran over to the tree, and started grabbing oranges. I ripped into a few, and juice was dripping all over me. I felt much better.

Then I heard a terrible bark, and a pack of the biggest dogs I've ever seen came rushing at me.

I don't remember climbing that tree, but suddenly I was on top of it. It was a small tree, and the branches were wobbling under my weight. I threw some oranges at the dogs.

"Here, nice doggies," I said (being Zicky). "Don't bark. Eat these instead."

They ignored the oranges. I understand dog-talk well enough to know what they wanted. Meat. That meant me.

---

After a couple of hours up an orange tree, it gets uncomfortable. Every time you move, the branches feel as if they're going to break, and there are nasty little spiky twigs that stick into you, no matter how you stand.

Eventually, the dogs stopped barking, and just sat around the tree, waiting for me to come down. That was worse. I turned slowly, snapping some thin branches, trying to get comfortable - and I saw an amazing sight: in a gap between two trees in the distance, a shiny white line across the bottom of the sky. It was the late afternoon sun, reflecting off the sea. Next to the sea were spots of brilliant light: the sun's reflection on hundreds of domes: the city of Glenelg, the most important part of Adalada.

Then the sun set, and a cold wind came up. I was freezing, my elbow was hurting again, and my legs had gone numb. I looked with envy at a nearby gum tree. If I had to spent the night up a tree, that tree looked much more comfortable, with its big branches and wide fork. There were even a few lumps where low branches had fallen off. I could use these as footholds while I ran up the tree. I'll make a dash for that tree, I thought.

I moved my foot, getting ready to jump down from the orange tree. A twig cracked, and the dogs I'd thought were asleep reared into the air, barking loudly. They were so big their teeth almost reached me. I climbed back up, for a long, uncomfortable wait. The top branch made an awful cracking sound when I tried to sit on it, so I had to keep standing up. I was more uncomfortable than ever.

Then I heard voices. Humans, in the distance. The dogs heard them too, and looked around, trying to work out what the voices meant for them. Now's my chance, I thought, and climbed down one branch lower. The dogs heard that too, and couldn't decide whether to go for the voices or me. They chose me.

The humans must have heard the dogs too. It was nearly dark, but I thought I could make out four shapes heading over towards my tree. Why don't the dogs go after them, I wondered?

I already knew the answer, of course. Dogs are cowards. If they're outnumbered, they'll run away. That's exactly what they did, helped on their way by some rocks the humans threw.

"Hello!" I called out cautiously.

"Who be there?" a man answered.

"It's me, Keddy."

"Tis up the tree," said another man. "Mought be a speaking bird."

"Where the tarnation are you?" the first man demanded.

I slithered down the tree, dislodging a shower of oranges, and scratching myself all over. My foot landed on a rotten orange, which burst, showering my leg with orange juice. I groaned, and they laughed.

"Behold this blanket!" a woman exclaimed. "Just what I need."

"It's mine!" I told her.

Before I realized what was happening, she'd untied it from my neck.

"Excellent blanket, be this," she said, wrapping it around her shoulders. "I'll keep it, as a reward for rescuing you."

"I need that," I whined. "To keep warm." (I didn't want to tell these strangers what I most prized about it: Zicky's smell, though it was growing faint.)

"Have my old cape," said the woman, handing me a smelly piece of hard, damp leather.

"What are you?" snapped the smaller man. "A spy?" He was holding a huge axxa, which he was swinging around idly.

"What's a spy?" I asked.

The young girl with them laughed: a humourless squeaky giggle.

"Think we should kill him?" asked the man with the axxa. Now he was waving it backwards and forwards, just over my head. I could feel the wind it made each time it passed.

"Chop off your head, please?" he suggested.

"Don't!" I begged, ducking lower. "Nooooo!"

"You're on our property," said the man, swinging the axxa lower and lower. I was huddled on the ground now. "We kill all the spies."

"I'm not a spy!" I cried. The blade of the axxa touched my hair as it sliced past.

"What are you then?" he shouted.

"I'm just looking for my sister!" I howled.

"What a baby, he's blubbing!" said the nasty girl.

"Stop it, Cain!" said the woman. "You're a bully."

The man swung his axxa extra hard, then let it go. Its blade landed in the orange tree, and oranges bounced off me.

"You mought come with us," said the bigger man, in a kind voice, pulling me up.

"And who are you?" I asked, bolder.

"Grimmits, we are they!" he said proudly. "The monarchs of Adalada." I looked around at the four Grimmits, who I figured must be some type of strays. In the dusk I couldn't make them out clearly, but they looked like animals with loose skins. The big man seemed to have a huge lump on his back.

I told them all about myself, how I'd come down the path all the way from Noton Sumut, how Zicky had been stolen, how our dromes had bought a new child. I was so pleased that I couldn't stop talking. But after a while they ignored me, and started talking to each other.

"A pampered pet," muttered the nasty man called Cain.

"Bit of a baby, too," said the girl, Mary. She talked tough, but I think she was younger than Zicky. What she said about me really annoyed me. I'll show her, I thought. "How would YOU like to be up a tree for hours, with a pack of dogs trying to eat you?" I imagined telling her: "What baby could walk all the way down the hills?"

They took me towards the city - I spotted a few lights shining in the distance. We walked beside the creek I'd followed. After a while it joined up with another one, which they called a rivulet.

On the rocky beach of the rivulet, overlooked by a huge dead redgum, was their camp. Other Grimmits were there, trying to keep a fire going - by cursing it a lot. When they heard us coming, they shouted abuse at us, instead of greeting us. That was rather rude, I thought.

Cain bent over and wriggled. The lump on his back fell off.

"Kangarang," he stated. "Got that big red bastard at last."

"What's this you caught?" squeaked an old woman, pinching my shoulder with her fingers. "We going to cook this too? You going to kill it, Cain, or you want me to do the honours?"

She gave a horrible laugh. Was she joking? I hoped so.

"Shut up, Becky," said Ruth, the woman who'd taken my blanket. "This is Keddy the Bird."

"Funny sort of bird."

"Bloody parrot. It talks. We found it up a tree. Scared of dogs."

"So am I," said Becky, the old woman. Suddenly she seemed much more human.

"They were absolutely huge!" I told her. "Much bigger than me - and very, very fierce."

But she wasn't listening. "Where'd you get that, Ruth?" she demanded, pulling my blanket. "I need that."

"It's Keddy's," said Ruth. "You can't have it. He gave it to me."

"I'm your bloody mother," yelled Becky. "So I'm bloody having it. Just what I need to keep warm." She grabbed at it, and Ruth grabbed back.

"Stop!" shouted Ruth. "Anyway, you're not my REAL mother. You'll tear it."

I tried to tell them it was my blanket, but the two of them ignored me, slapping each other on the face, and grunting with pain. Finally Ruth gave a terrible yell and fell to the ground crying. Becky grabbed my blanket and wrapped it tightly around herself.

"It's not fair!" Ruth was whining. "You always take my best things."

Ignoring her, Becky turned to me. "It wasn't hers at all," she said, in a friendly voice. "It was yours, wasn't it?"

"It still is," I said. "I'm only lending it to you for the night."

Becky laughed.

"Ha!" she said. It was a very short laugh.

There were lots of Grimmits: another old woman called Aggy, an old man called Noah, a very young girl called Faith, and a few others whose names I didn't catch. I couldn't work out how they were related. At different times that night, Cain seemed to be Ruth's husband or brother, or Mary's father (or even Ruth's), or Becky's husband. I think he was more than one of these, but I couldn't work out which. I gave up trying, as soon as the kangarang was cooked.

It was burned on the outside, and so hot it burned my fingers, but it was so delicious! The stretchiest food I'd ever eaten, I told them, even better than chocobacon. The poor fools didn't even know what chocobacon was, but they all laughed.

I felt funny about eating a kangarang - back home, some of them were sort of friends. But the smell was so tempting, and I was starving, and when you're holding a piece of cooked meat in your hand, it doesn't remind you so much of the animal it used to be.

"You're a young, fit boy," Becky told me. "Just what we need. We had a boy your size, but lately he up and died." She laughed. "Something chewed him up."

"The dogs?" I whispered.

"Nah. The pox, more like. He fell sick and carked it, all the same day." She shrugged her shoulders. "You lose some, and you win some, I guess. We lose him, we win you."

I should have put her right about that, but I didn't want to risk losing that meat, or the warmth of their fire.

It started to drizzle. The Grimmits ignored this - they were arguing about nothing, but so loudly I had to put my hands over my ears. I wondered what they lived in. I hadn't seen their home yet, but guessed it was on top of the steep riverbank behind us. Did they live in a dome (like dromes) or a kennel (like Hanny), or a house (like Bimmy and her family)? I liked the idea of a house, but I suspected it would be a smelly kennel, like Hanny's, only bigger. I huddled up closer to the fire, trying to stay warm.

Cain was happier now. He was holding a sort of bag, which he said was a kangarang's stomach. In it was something called ale, which he said he'd made himself. He handed the bag to me and asked me to take a swig from a tube sticking out of it. But I squeezed the bag too hard, and the ale came spurting out of the tube, all over my face. The Grimmits laughed. "Good ale, eh?" said Cain.

"Very good," I said politely. In fact, it was foul, but I was scared of Cain, and didn't want him to get angry.

Then the drizzle turned to real rain.

"We'll have to sleep indoors tonight," said Becky, cackling away as if she was making a joke. "Come on," she said, grabbing my arm. "Up the bank."

I scrambled up the bank after her, grabbing onto muddy roots, which were all over the place. "In here!" Becky said. "Mind your head."

"In where?" I asked.

She dragged me in after her.

It was a sort of cave, in the roots of the gum tree at the top of the bank. The dirt around the roots had been washed out by floods, and then hollowed out more by Grimmits. It was better than staying out in the rain - but only just. The floor of the cave was mud, the ceiling dripped, and you could hardly move for the roots everywhere. And it was freezing, with a cold wind blowing straight into the cave.

"Great blanket, this," said Becky, pulling it around her.

I shivered, as an icy drop of mud plopped down into my hair.

"This is the life, eh, boy?" said Cain, belching loudly, after gulping more ale from the kangarang stomach.

"Are you kidding?" I said. "You should have a proper dome."

"Those are for dromes and pets," snarled Ruth. "Us Grimmits are tough outdoor types."

"We don't need no drome-dome," said Zach. "We're getting a palace."

"Some day!" said Becky, and all the others laughed, in a nasty way. I don't think they respected Zach, because he talked too slowly. But he was kind to me, and I liked him.

In the middle of the night I woke up, cold and wet. Rain was pouring down, and a gum root was steadily dripping on me. Becky's bony elbow was poking into me, and her horrible breath was coughing over me. "Stupid people," I said to myself. But I cuddled up against Becky, to get some warmth from my muddy blanket.