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"It
is
you!" cried the boy. "You sound like Copper should sound. I'm Questrid," he added, peering into her eyes intently. "I've come to take you back to Spindle House. Welcome home!"

PART TWO

The Marble Mountains

5. Spindle House

Questrid wore
so many layers of different green and red clothes, he looked like a well-filled veggie sandwich. He had a striped scarf wound round and round his neck, over his chin and up to his ears, and on top of it all was a large hat and at the bottom of it all, big waterproof boots. Beneath his hat, two golden brown eyes gleamed like honey.

"In you get," he said, helping Copper into the sled and covering her with blankets and fur rugs. "Cold? Sorry I was late." Then he jumped in beside her and, flicking the reins at the horses, turned the sled out of the station and into the
blackness.

Copper guessed Questrid was about twelve or thirteen, but he was so lanky and half hidden by his clothes, she wasn't sure. He kept looking at her thoughtfully, as if she were a rare, bizarre creature, then grinning as if he found her very
amusing.

Copper found it amusing too. She realized she was smiling and that her insides were singing happily.

I've never even set eyes on this Questrid before, she thought, but I like him, like he's an old friend. And I've never been in a sled before; never been to the Marble Mountains before, but I love it. I feel as if I've always loved it. It feels just right.

She didn't want to spoil the moment by asking questions, so she snuggled into her seat and watched the broad backs of the two horses rhythmically rising and falling as they cantered down the road, their manes streaming up and down over their gleaming necks.

It was too dark for Copper to see anything other than vague black shapes in the blackness, but it didn't bother Questrid and the horses, they knew their way home. They whooshed over the snow, the sled runners making a hard knife-cutting sound, the horses' hooves pounding.

The freezing air whipped against Copper's cheeks and seemed to seep right into her head and freeze her mind. The noise of the clinking metal on the harness, thundering hooves and the
whoosh, whoosh
of the sled runners lulled her into a mindless trance, so that very soon, much against her wishes, she drifted off to sleep.

She woke just as the sled was slithering to a standstill.

"Spindle House," said Questrid. "Home."

Copper peered out from the blankets and saw there was some sort of a building beside them, lighted windows and two huge carved wooden doors. Looking up into the dark, she could only vaguely make out the rest of the house, but it seemed in her sleepy state to look like a strange spiky tree.

Then the doors opened and light streamed out, along with a very big silvery dog that lumbered over to greet her. Copper shrieked and hid behind Questrid.

"It's only Silver," said Questrid, patting the creature's head. "She's gentle as a lamb."

A short woman, smiling so much she could hardly speak, took Copper by the hand and led her gently into the hall.

"Welcome, dear, welcome home," she said. It was too much for Copper: she burst into tears.

"I never cry," she sobbed. "I'm usually brave, it's just
that .. ."

"You don't have to say anything. I know. Of course it's too much. And it's late. Come on, my dear, come on with me. I'm Oriole. I'll look after you."

She led Copper up the spiral wooden staircase and helped her into a small bed with stiff, old-fashioned sheets. She tucked her in, muttered more endearments and then went softly away.

Copper lay for some minutes staring into the dark, wondering about it all, then closed her eyes, too exhausted to think. But just before sleep completely overtook her, it seemed that someone crept stealthily into the room and stood beside her, staring at her. . . . But she was so nearly asleep, perhaps it was a dream.

6. The First Day

When Copper woke
the next morning, she lay very still for a few minutes without opening her eyes, aware that the sheets against her skin were different from the ones at home, that the pillow was fluffier and even that the room smelled different. Then everything that had happened the day before came flooding back.

She was in Spindle House, in the Marble Mountains.

Chirp, chirrup, chip, chip, chirrup.

It was a bird. That's what had woken her. She opened her eyes, squinting at the intense white light, and saw a thrush perched on the back of the chair beside her. The bird was so close that Copper could see its tongue wobbling and its throat vibrating.

Chirrup, chirrup!

Copper sat up slowly. The thrush went on singing and looking at her with its soft brown eyes for a whole minute before it sprang up and flew out the window.

On a tray beside the bed was a cup of hot chocolate and a
warm cinnamon
bun,
which Copper quickly demolished. Then she lay back against the big pillows. She wanted the moment to last forever.

Her room was the most extraordinary room she'd ever seen.

It was all wooden: the floor, ceiling, walls and all the furniture were made of wood. Her small wooden bed had two short posts at the bottom and two taller ones at the top, and every inch was carved with plants, animals and knobbly faces. The chair was carved with flowers and bees. The large mirror-fronted wardrobe had two trees carved on it with branches interlacing above the doors.

The floorboards creaked gently under her and were warm against her skin despite the sharp cold of the air as she went to peer out the small window.

It was magnificent. She could see for miles and miles, and for miles and miles there was nothing but snow: glistening white and yellow in the sun, purple and violet in the shadows. There were no other houses or buildings in sight, only trees and rocks. In the distance were icy blue peaks of faraway glaciers and mountains. The air was fresh and clean like toothpaste.

"Brilliant," she said.

"It looks very wet and cold to me," said Ralick gloomily. "Can't think what you find so—
gulp!"

Copper suddenly leaped on him, squeezing him so hard, he choked on his words.

"Shh!" She held her finger to her lips. "Listen. There's someone outside the door."

There was a small shuffling noise and boards creaked, the soft sound of clothes brushing against a wall.

"Someone's spying on us," she hissed, bounding to the door and yanking the handle. But the door latch was stiff; it wouldn't budge. She rattled it angrily. How dare anyone spy on her!

She snatched the door open at last and leaped outside.

The corridor was empty.

"But there was someone there," Copper said furiously. "Spying on us, listening to us."

"Correction, listening to
you,"
said Ralick.

"Who could it have been?"

"Perhaps it was a Snow Ogre who fattens up little girls on cinnamon buns and then eats them," said Ralick.

"Ha, ha," said Copper. "Why would anyone spy on me? Let's go and investigate."

She dressed quickly and stepped out into the corridor.

Now Copper saw that it wasn't only her room that was odd—the entire house was very peculiar. Everything was made out of wood and not a single bit of it was straight: the walls curved in and out, the floorboards undulated like frozen waves and above her head, the wooden ceiling arched into a beautiful dome.

She followed the corridor, which was narrow in some places, wide in others, as it curved round onto a circular landing with a large carved cupboard. Two more corridors led off this, as did a spiral staircase going down.

"Isn't it fantastic?" she whispered, staring wide-eyed at it all. "And have you noticed the smell, Ralick? Sweet and warm and honeyish. Let's go down."

The wooden stairs creaked and groaned noisily under her.

"What a racket," growled Ralick.

Copper didn't say anything for a moment, then said shyly, "Yes, but you know, I think they're sort of talking to me."

"Ha! As stairs have a habit of doing!" said Ralick.

"But really, they
are,"
she insisted. "I'm sure, and the handrail too. They're sort of speaking—not words exactly, just voices. I've never touched a handrail like this before. It's soft under my fingers, not soft like cotton, but not solid. ... It moves. And it smells so gorgeous . .."

Copper felt more and more excited as she descended the stairs. Everything seemed to her to be so absolutely right. I've missed this, she thought. Then she thought, But how could I? How could I miss something I've never seen?

At the bottom of the stairs Copper paused and looked around. Which way? One door had a picture of a chair carved into it, another door was covered in flowers and on a third there were books.

"Clues," she whispered to Ralick. "Sitting room, garden and library. Ah ha! And that one," she pointed to a door beyond the stairs with fruit, vegetables, cakes and bread carved into it, "that's food, so that's the kitchen, I bet. Good, I'm still starving."

She went to the door, and was just about to go in when she paused, hearing voices talking in hushed tones. She went closer and listened.

"You wouldn't listen to a private conversation, would you?" gasped Ralick.

"No, well, but. . ."

Grr.
A low, deep, rumbling growl erupted beside her and she stopped.

"Ralick? Was that you?"

Then something furry pressed against her leg, and glancing down, she saw the vast gray-haired dog from the night before, Silver.

7. Robin and Oriole

Copper jumped.

"Of course I wouldn't eavesdrop," she snapped guiltily, and quickly grasping the door handle, she went in.

"Hello!" cried Questrid.

"What the ... !" gasped Copper, gazing around in
amazement.
"Birds!"

They were perched on the counter, on the backs of chairs and along the clothesline hanging from the ceiling. They ruffled their feathers, cooed and trilled, and filled the air with the fluttering and shuffling of wings.

"Come in, dear, come in," called Oriole. "Did you sleep well? All this must be
so
strange for you."

Oriole looked just like the little wooden doll with painted brown hair and a tiny wooden chip nose that Copper had once had. She had the same smooth, round face and red cheeks. She wore her long hair plaited down her back and an old-fashioned dress with a long skirt and large white apron. Her dark, soft eyes were just like the thrush's.

"It isn't strange," said Copper, grinning. "It feels very
un
strange and exciting."

"Good. Good. This is my husband, Robin," said Oriole.

Copper shook hands with Robin, who had a very round tummy, rosy cheeks and a ponytail.

"I hope you like birds?" he asked with a twinkle.

"Yes."

"Good, we've twenty-three at the moment," said Robin. "A few more outside. They're all very tame and will help you if you need it."

"What about the dog, is she tame?" asked Copper, pointing at Silver, who seemed glued to her side.

"Oh, Silver. She's a big thing but very gentle. Yes, she's tame."

"What sort of a dog is she?"

"Silver?" Oriole smiled vaguely. "Oh, some sort of crossbreed. She's got all sorts in her, wolfhound, lurcher ... I suppose you'd call her a mountain dog."

Robin led Copper over to the table.

"Don't be shy," he said. "Come on in and feel at home. This is where you belong." He lifted Copper's hand and examined it closely. "Will you look at that?" he said admiringly. "A Beech's hand if ever I saw one! Those fingers! And you've that lovely copper hair too! You live up to your name, don't you?"

Copper nodded.

Now that she had a chance to look around the kitchen, she saw it was a peculiar room, shaped like a slice of cake with the sharp end cut off. The wider curved wall had windows in it and
the narrow end was where the door was. The room was painted yellow and white with a great many green pots and dishes on the shelves. It was warm and sunny, big and welcoming.

"But you're not my parents, are you?" Copper surprised herself by saying suddenly.