Free Paw Prints in the Snow by Sally Grindley Page B

fat I am not.’
    ‘At least you’ll be warm.’ Binti turned to grin at him.
    ‘It’s a conspiracy,’ he huffed. ‘I knew I should’ve stayed at the doggery.’
    ‘What exactly are we supposed to do while we’re in Russia?’ asked Aesha.
    ‘I’ll be photographing anything that moves for a magazine article, and I expect you, my princess, will sit by the fire, filing your nails and looking beautiful,’ replied Peter.
    ‘I’m going to help Dad,’ said Joe proudly. His parents had bought him a camera for his birthday and he was keen to follow in his father’s footsteps.
    ‘I’m sure there’ll be plenty to keep you amused,’ Binti told Aesha.
    Aesha frowned. She was excited about going to Russia, but she hated the cold even more than Joe did, and couldn’t imagine that there would be much to do in a place where it might snow even though it was only late October, and where the temperatures could drop well below zero.
    ‘I know about the tigers and the brown bear, but what other animals are there in eastern Russia?’ Joe asked.
    ‘There are more animals and birds than you would imagine,’ said Peter, ‘though many will be in hibernation. For starters, there’s the Himalayan black bear, the Siberian chipmunk, the Amur goral, Blakiston’s fish owl, scaly merganser, hooded crane, Japanese blue-and-yellow-rumped flycatcher, wild boar, Manchurian sika . . .’
    ‘Someone’s been doing their homework.’ Binti smiled, impressed.
    ‘Of course,’ said Peter.
    ‘What’s a goral?’ asked Joe.
    ‘It’s a sort of cross between a goat and an antelope,’ offered Binti.
    When they arrived at the airport, Peter parked the car at a drop-off point and they all piled out. A valet was waiting, ready to take their car away to a long-stay car park.
    ‘Going somewhere hot?’ he asked.

Chapter 3
    Joe kept himself occupied during the long flight. He watched two films, slept a bit, ate the rather overcooked meal that was put in front of him, jumped from one game on his console to another, played cards with his father and listened to music. He looked on with amusement as a large man across the aisle made himself comfortable, closed his eyes and began to snore. The man’s head dropped forward occasionally, swayed from side to side with the movement of the aircraft, then jolted backward again as if an electric shock had been administered.
    ‘He sounds like a walrus, doesn’t he, Dad?’ Joe whispered, nudging his father.
    ‘I have no personal experience of walruses, but if you say so then I’ll take your word for it,’ Peter whispered back.
    At that moment the man snorted loudly and the magazine that had been resting on his belly fell to the floor. Joe bent down to pick it up and was upset to see that it had a photograph of a dead tiger on the cover. A man with a gun held high stood triumphantly by its head. Joe couldn’t read the caption because it was written in what he took to be Russian.
    ‘Give the gentleman his magazine back, Joe,’ Peter prompted.
    Joe turned to see that the man had woken and was looking questioningly at him. He thrust the magazine towards him as if it were burning his fingers. The man said something gruffly, pushed the magazine into the seat pocket and closed his eyes again.
    ‘Did you see that, Dad?’ Joe whispered after a while. ‘There was a dead tiger on the cover of his magazine. I knew he looked a bit fishy.’
    ‘Walruses are,’ said Peter.
    ‘That’s not funny,’ Joe growled.
    ‘Having a dead tiger on your magazine doesn’t make you fishy,’ Peter whispered. ‘Your mum’s always surrounded by pictures of animals, dead and alive, and she’s not fishy – thank goodness. I never did see myself marrying a mermaid.’
    ‘But Mum’s an international wildlife vet,’ Joe said hotly.
    ‘So might the Walrus be,’ replied Peter.
    Joe didn’t think for one minute that the large grumpy man across the aisle was an international vet. He wanted to ask his mother what she