Free Lord Morgan's Cannon by MJ Walker Page A

she could spot the circus nearby. Bear the anteater could of course try to pick up the smell of the circus horses on the path, and follow it. But Doris was worried that once on the path, she might not be able to turn her body around, and would be trapped by two hedges, unable to change direction. And she didn’t like that at all.
    So it was up to Edward to lead the way. He would climb each tree in the wood, until he discovered which was the tallest. He would then climb to the very top and look out across the land. He’d spot the circus and while riding upon Doris’s back, he would take them all to it, pointing his little finger to show the way.
    That second afternoon, they began their journey home.
    After a few false starts, which he put down to a lack of practice, Edward identified a beech tree, standing straight and true. Leaping on to it from Doris’s shoulders, he marked his position at an exact ten feet off the ground. Then, clambering hand over hand, he scaled the trunk, counting as he went, frightening a small red squirrel on his way. He climbed until he had passed one hundred feet and all the trees about him had gone. He tightened his grip, looking for any eagles, before recalling that none lived in this country, none that mattered anyway. The wind caught his nose and hat and he shrieked in delight at the view. It was the highest he had ever climbed.
    Edward could see far into the distance. Behind, a row of hills marked the horizon. To his right the fields melded into each other until they met the greying sky, and to his left he thought he could glimpse the sea. Ahead, over the tops of the trees below, he could see the city, plumes of dark smoke belching from grubby buildings. Before the city there appeared to be a gap of sorts, an empty scar that traversed the landscape. Before it was a thick, deep forest, far more substantial than the small wood holding Edward’s observation tower. And behind, on the outskirts of the buildings, was a vast expanse, a rolling series of downs with grass clipped short. And upon this carpet of green Edward could see the white canvas of Whyte and Wingate’s Big Top, a flag flapping on its peak, a large black burned streak disappearing down its side into the ground. He could just make out a floating hot air balloon and wagons parked alongside, with their horses harnessed. He wrapped his tail around a small branch and clapped his hands.
    Edward took the scenic route to the floor, pulling and swinging at the beech tree, crashing through its leaves. He jumped upon Doris’s back and described to the others all that he’d seen. He outstretched his arm, unfurled his finger, and Doris set off in the direction of the circus, Bessie flitting about her ears, with the giant anteater rolling his shoulders as he followed behind.
    The animals walked through the wood, leaving the meadow and track. All was quiet, a few moths flying through the damp air. Bessie and the anteater stopped occasionally to flick their tongues into a muddy puddle. Doris sampled the leaves in the wood, but she didn’t like them. She felt her stomach rumble, as did Edward.
    “Why are we going back to the circus?” Bear suddenly asked.
    He had fallen behind a little, his long head swaying more as he walked.
    “To see all our friends,” announced Doris.
    “To save the circus,” suggested Bessie.
    Bear thought about it some more. But before he had time to come to any particular view, his concentration was broken by a flash of orange fur. A fox dashed past his nose and under Doris’s legs. There the fox went to ground, curling into a small ball, bringing its tail around its face. The fox thought it had hidden itself. But its tail had been shredded by mange and Bear could still see its amber eyes through what was left of a white tip. It was breathing heavy, peering out, frightened. Doris realised something wasn’t right. Gently she stepped away. The fox didn’t move, even when Doris turned and nudged it ever so gently