Free The Swiss Family RobinZOM (Book 2) by Perrin Briar Page A

breath.
    “Why are things never easy?” she said.

Chapter Twenty-Five
     
     
    Liz tied the final two pieces of vine together. She picked up the mesh she’d made and pulled it to one side so it hung from the Y-shaped sticks in the corners. The birds remained overhead, perched the low branches, watching. Liz walked across the clearing and waited behind a tree.
    After a moment the birds descended. They landed on the mesh Liz had made, pecking at it and making chirping noises. They poked their beaks through the holes but could not reach the soil.
    “Yes!” Liz said, fists punching the air.
    She performed a victory dance.
    “What are you doing, Mummy?” Francis said.
    “Mummy’s happy, baby.”
    “Is that bird happy too?” Francis said, pointing toward the allotment. “He’s dancing.”
    A black bird’s head bobbed left and right. He pecked at the mesh lying on the ground with his big shiny beak. He cawed at it. He picked it up, ducked his head underneath and entered the allotment.
    Liz hung her head. The birds were never going to let her grow anything.
    Just then, Fritz climbed down from the treehouse with Beauty on his gloved hand. Liz cocked her head to one side and crossed to him.
    “Where are you off to, Fritz?” Liz said. “To train Beauty?”
    “That’s the plan,” Fritz said. “She needs practice killing small rodents.”
    “Birds too?” Liz said.
    “Sure,” Fritz said.
    Liz grinned.
    “I might just have the perfect training ground for her,” she said.

Chapter Twenty-Six
     
     
    That night Liz lay in bed, on the fringes of where consciousness and unconsciousness met and blurred.
    There was a piercing screech followed by a light strangled squawk in the night. And then silence.
    Liz smiled to herself and felt a warm fuzzy glow spread through her chest. She fell over the edge and into sweet oblivion.

Chapter Twenty-Seven
     
     
    In the morning Liz was welcomed by a screech from Beauty as she entered the allotment. Beauty bobbed her head and edged along her perch. To her right was a small box with dead birds piled inside it. There were scuff marks on the top of the soil and a few imprinted feather-like patterns.
    “How did she do?” Fritz said, joining Beauty, who screeched loudly and flapped her wings upon seeing Fritz.
    “Three birds,” Liz said. “Not bad for one night.”
    Fritz picked Beauty up.
    “There’ll probably be the same tonight,” he said. “Maybe tomorrow too, but it’ll drop off after that. Birds are smart. They’ll know not to come down here again.”
    “Good,” Liz said. “That’s all I wanted.”
    Fritz stroked the crest of Beauty’s head and looked deep in thought.
    “Can I ask you something?” Fritz said. “Where does Dad go every morning?”
    “What do you mean?” Liz said.
    “He gets up, climbs down the ladder, and walks off somewhere,” Fritz said. “Then he comes back a few hours later at breakfast.”
    “Oh that,” Liz said. “He just goes for a walk.”
    “Every morning?” Fritz said. “He must like it here.”
    “Don’t you?” Liz said.
    Fritz shrugged.
    “It’s not so bad now I have Beauty,” he said.
    Liz absentmindedly stroked Beauty’s head. Fritz put Beauty back on her perch and headed toward the breakfast table, where Bill was just returning from his walk. Liz bit her lip. She turned to Beauty.
    “Where do you think he goes?” she said.
    Beauty screeched.
    “You’re not wrong,” Liz said.

Chapter Twenty-Eight
     
     
    The saplings were brown, dry and shrivelled. Liz rubbed the saplings between her fingers and they disintegrated into dust. Her heart sank.
    “What am I doing wrong, Bill?” she said one day after another lacklustre coconut-themed meal.
    “They’re not used to being farmed,” Bill said. “They’re wild vegetables, used to growing wherever they land, wherever they are. We must not be giving them something they would normally get in the wild.”
    “Then I need to domesticate them,” Liz said. “How