Free The Monster Hunter by Kit Cox Page B

its top. Even from where he stood Ben could clearly make out several paths leading down into the quarry, but the island, he assumed, must be an oasis of calm for birds and insects as not one route led up its chalky sides.
    Ben climbed the fence and walked down one of the paths intothe quarry’s depths. It was strange to think that he was looking for something that had made the other children ill for it felt so peaceful in the pit. The moment he started to descend the slope he had moved out of the breeze and he felt the warmth of the sun on his skin for the first time in months – he almost felt like he was back home in Ceylon, he wasn’t aware how much colder the constant movement of air made the English coast but it was nice to be outside and feel the warmth again of a gentle sun. There was a deep silence, too, broken only by the birdsong of the surrounding orchards and the gentle hum of insects.
    It turned out to be a long day – a very long day. Botany was certainly not Ben’s strong point and he often found that he had to return to a plant to identify its leaves as they all started to look similar. At first, he had only examined the bushes with berries on them and he couldn’t help thinking it would have been quicker if he had grown up with the hedgerow fruits. But then again, maybe a mistrust of any berry was a better place to start; the others had obviously trusted something and it may have been a misidentification born from over familiarity. It turned out that there were no berries that weren’t edible in the quarry and Ben began to wonder whether they hadn’t just eaten leaves or flowers as a dare. Ben realised that the quarry had become cold as the sun was low enough in the sky not to shine in and warm the chalk walls. He decided to call it a day and head back to the orphanage. Maybe it hadn’t been the quarry at all that was the source of the poison. Just because they had set off there didn’t mean they had found something to eat there. Ben was at a loss and realised that he might have to call it quits on his whole investigation; after all, that was exactly what the doctor had done.
    That evening Ben was back in the boy’s dorm; except for the two or three who continued to be confined to their beds withtheir illness, all the other boys were outside playing football. Suddenly Ben heard a voice ask for water. It was Charles Pinchin, a scruffy-haired lad of seven who for a time had been expected to go the way of Miss Poppy but who was now on the mend. Ben walked over and poured a glass of water from the jug and sat on the bed beside Charles while he drank.
    â€˜Thank you,’ he said, handing the half-drunk glass back to Ben.
    That was the way of the orphanage – away from each other any of the children could be polite to Ben even friendly in their nature but as a group it had certainly been decided to make him the black sheep. Ben chose to make the most of the opportunity.
    â€˜I went to your quarry today,’ he said, trying to sound as friendly as he could without sounding needy.
    Charles smiled not raising his head from the pillow. ‘I miss the quarry,’ he said with a voice devoid of all strength. ‘Did you make a wish?’
    â€˜Not this time. I was looking at the plants,’ Ben said, hoping his comment would prompt a response about berries or leaves while also wondering what on earth making a wish had to do with going to a quarry.
    â€˜That’s nice,’ the boy whispered, his eyes closing. ‘Next time make a wish – they’re fun.’ And he fell asleep.
    Ben was tempted to wake him again to ask more questions but it seemed that sleep was a far more sensible option for recovery. Ben tucked Charles back into bed properly and wished the boy and his friends a speedy recovery.
    Over the next few days all the children recovered and the mysterious poison no longer seemed to be a burning issue. Ben kept Buddy up to date with