Free Wild Moose Chase by Siobhan Rowden

calf.
    â€œThat was a branch!” cried Mr Zola. “There’s an enormous whirlwind passing right overhead.”
    â€œThank goodness we’re not on the roof now,” said Cam. “Are we nearly there?”
    â€œWe’re approaching the city of Krasnoyarsk,” he said, still staring out of the window.
    â€œA city?” repeated Cam. “I thought Siberia was just a snowy wilderness.”
    â€œA lot of it is,” said Mr Zola. “But there are several large cities too. We’re just about to cross the Krasnoyarsk Bridge, a prime example of a parabolic polygonal truss bridge.”
    â€œIs he talking Russian again?” asked Bert.
    â€œIt crosses the Yenisey River, which flows all the way down to the Arctic Ocean in Siberia the Khangai Mountains of Mongolia,” continued Mr Zola. “My research into moose-cheese ingredients has left me with a good knowledge of this region. The train will cross the bridge and pull into the station, where I will be purchasing a first-class ticket on a boat down the Yenisey.”
    â€œWhat will we do?” asked Cam.
    â€œYou’ll have to find your own way to Mongolia,” replied Mr Zola. “I am not a babysitter. My priority is catching up with this Primula Mold.”
    â€œThat’s ours too,” said Bert.
    â€œYou’ve managed to tag along with me this far,” grumbled Mr Zola. “And you’ve caused me nothing but trouble. I shall be glad of some adult company. However, should you take the lead in the competition, then I’m sure we shall meet again. Although thankfully, I think that’s pretty unlikely.”
    â€œWhy?” demanded Bert.
    â€œYou’re just children! You were very lucky to get the moose milk but I doubt very much that you will get any rennet. You probably don’t even know what it is.”
    â€œIt’s the chemical found in mammals’ stomachs,” said Cam. “It curdles the milk and is an essential ingredient in cheese production.”
    â€œKnow-all,” he muttered.
    â€œTold you,” said Bert.
    â€œAnyway,” continued Mr Zola, “it’s time for us to part company.”
    As he spoke, something else crashed against the carriage, and the train began to brake. Mr Zola looked out of the window again.
    â€œGood gracious!” he cried. “That was a rubber boat. The whirlwind is flinging all manner of things up from the city. And there goes a tent! The train driver’s going to have to be extra careful crossing the bridge. The wind is extremely strong up here.”
    There was a rhythmic clatter as the train slowed to a walking pace. They could hear the wind howling outside. Bert jumped up and down on the hay bale, trying to see out of the high window.
    â€œGive me a leg up, Cam,” he said. “I want to see a Siberian whirlwind.”
    â€œAll right, but my turn next.”
    Bert clambered on to his sister’s back and looked out of the window. The view was amazing. The Krasnoyarsk Bridge was a symmetrical tangle of intricate ironwork, its main frame curving over the river like a metal rainbow. A large city rose up on the other side, the roofs covered in a thick layer of snow. Fifty metres below the bridge streams of water snaked through the ice. A small ship with a large round hull was forging through the frozen water.
    â€œLook! An icebreaker,” shouted Bert.
    But it was the whirlwind tossing things into the air that amazed him the most. He watched as an inflatable tyre, a small shed and even a red bouncy castle were flung around the sky like matchsticks.
    â€œMy turn,” said Cam. “I want to see.”
    Bert reluctantly climbed down.
    â€œI haven’t finished looking yet,” he said. “If we could just open the outside door a little, then we’ll both see. And I could do with some fresh air. It smells a bit moosey in here.”
    â€œNo!” cried Mr Zola. “There’s a