Oddo the gannet hovered over the ghastly mess of broken trees and grey mud covering the beach. A girl was stumbling across the soggy ground with a dog leaping and barking beside her. Oddo wanted to flee, high up in the air like the other birds, but in the girl’s hand was something that glowed and shimmered like a piece of sun torn from the sky; and it was drawing him down . . . down . . .
For an instant, it lit up an archway of rock, then disappeared into the cliff. With every nerve tense, Oddo plunged after it. He felt jagged edges tear at his wings; he saw a bright glow fill the air around him. Then his body lost all weight, all feeling.
Oddo opened his eyes. A boy was crouched over him, with a burning stick in his hand. Oddo stared at the dark eyes, the bare face, the crest of red-brown feathers on top of the head. No – not feathers, hair! It was . . .
Oddo jerked upright, banging his head against the overhanging stone, just as Dúngal blurted a warning.
Rubbing his head, Oddo rolled over, and saw Thora’s eyes staring at him over the edge of the rock.
Oddo grinned. That felt strange. He wasn’t used to having a mouth instead of a beak.
He stopped rubbing his head and inspected his hands. A pebble rattled. Oddo looked at it, then picked it up – delicately, between two fingers. He heaved a satisfied sigh, then prodded Dúngal on the knee.
‘Aren’t you going to let me out of here?’ he asked. As Dúngal scrambled backwards, Oddo wriggled across the rock and slid off the edge. Instinctively, he raised his arms, then let out an exclamation of surprise as he dropped like a stone. Shocked, he squatted where he landed, his feet sunk in the mud. He felt massive and heavy and awkward.
A blur hurtled towards him and knocked him onto his back. He squirmed as Hairydog slathered his face with wet doggy kisses. A moment later, he felt Thora’s arms twine around and hold him tight. He hugged her back, then sat up. She gazed at him, snivelling and beaming at the same time.
Then he looked at Dúngal.
‘Oddo, I’m sorry,’ said the Irish boy. ‘I—’
‘Oh Oddo-o-o,’ Thora butted in, ‘when that fire in the cauldron went out, I thought I’d never, ever speak to you again!’ And then she glowered. ‘I knew it wasn’t safe to do a shape-change without a wand! Especially after you chopped that tree without asking permission.’
‘Well, I got back in the end!’ said Oddo. The mud made a loud sucking gurgle as he wrenched himself free and stood up. ‘Do you know where we are?’
Thora shook her head.
‘We haven’t seen any people yet,’ she said. ‘We’ve only found that . . . that fire in the ice!’
Oddo grinned. ‘Lucky you did,’ he said. ‘Or I’d still be stuck in a bird shape!’
