Free The Secret of Zanzibar by Frances Watts

a writhing nest of snakes … The image of a writhing nest of snakes caused her to tremble.
    Solomon Honker must have noticed, because he said, ‘Cold, Alice? I’ll light a fire.’
    But after several minutes trying to coax damp wood on damp ground to kindle with the aid of damp leaves, he gave up. ‘It’s no use,’ he said in frustration.
    â€˜I bet Tibby Rose would know how to light a fire in a swamp,’ Alex said to Alice in a low voice.
    Alice nodded. ‘I wonder where Tibby and Alistair are right now? I can’t believe they’ve gone back to Souris.’
    â€˜Even Souris would have to be better than this,’ Alex observed, as the malevolent-sounding cackle of a strange bird in the tree tops made them jump.
    They pulled fruit and cheese and hunks of bread out of their rucksacks and ate dinner in silence, sitting on the rotten log. The heavy brooding atmosphere was broken by whispering and rustlings in the canopy.
    â€˜You two try to get some sleep,’ Solomon suggested. ‘I’ll take first watch.’
    â€˜But if there are no Queen’s Guards, we don’t need a lookout, do we?’ Alex said.
    â€˜Snakes,’ Solomon reminded him, picking up his stick and holding it ready in both hands.
    Alex gulped. ‘Wake me when it’s my turn,’ he said.
    Alice and her brother lay on the moist ground beside the log. What with the discomfort of the damp and the strange sounds, Alice thought she’d never get to sleep, and she was right. As the long night wore on, through Solomon’s watch, her own and then Alex’s, her thoughts grew more and more gloomy. Their mission, which had earlier inspired her with optimism and determination, now seemed doomed. All it would take would be for one guard in Cornoliana to recognise them from their previous visit and they’d be caught and thrown in thedungeon. At least that’d mean company for the young mouse already in the dungeon, she thought, wincing at the pang of guilt she felt. She knew, really, that they’d had no choice but to leave him behind when they fled the palace, but still … if she was honest, she’d barely given that other mouse a second thought until they were safely away from the palace. She’d been too intent on saving her own skin, on getting as far away from Sophia and Horace as she could.
    She rolled over, the ground beneath her making a squelching sound. That was one good thing about this swamp, she reminded herself: there might be mud and quicksand and snakes galore, but there was no Sophia.
    And so passed the longest night of Alice’s life, full of dismal thoughts and dark forebodings that were only partially dispelled by the dawn. She suspected that neither Solomon nor her brother had slept much either since both were wide awake and eager to get going as the first rays of watery green light crept through the canopy.
    They resumed walking immediately, eating apples for breakfast as they went, all keen to cross the swamp as quickly as possible.
    When Alice first saw a movement out of the corner of her eye she presumed it was a snake. But when she turned to see, there was nothing. No movement, no snake.
    It must have been the play of light in the leaves, she told herself.
    Yet even though there was nothing there, as she facedforward again she had the sensation that someone – or something – was watching her. It made her shoulder blades tingle beneath her rucksack.
    She knew it was just that her nerves were on edge now, and she tried to calm herself with slow, deep breaths. She focused on what was real: the squelch, squelch of their footsteps in the thick mud, the plish, plish of Solomon’s stick hitting the water as he thrust it ahead of him, testing the ground for quicksand. But was that a squelching behind her?
    She whirled around, and this time she caught a distinct movement.
    â€˜Solomon?’ Alice’s throat was dry. ‘I think