The Return of a Pig Called Heather by Harry Oulton

Author:Harry Oulton [Harry Oulton]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781848124004
Publisher: Bonnier Publishing Fiction
Published: 2014-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

Mr Hornbuckle closed his left eye and aimed directly at the very plumpest bit of Busby’s wobbling bottom. Slowly and deliberately, he squeezed the trigger, and with a quiet whoosh, the dart shot out of the gun.

Chapter 9

What’s Mine Is Yours

Heather groaned. She was bruised and battered and had no idea where she was. Her whole body ached and her front right leg in particular felt very hurty. What had happened? The last thing she remembered was eating a delicious Spartan apple. More than one, actually. She remembered thinking that even Aitor would have to admit how delicious this apple was, and that made her feel guilty, so she’d picked up the nicest one she could see and set off with it in her mouth to take to him.

Where was that apple now? Then it all came flooding back. She had just turned around and was having to be really strong-willed not to eat Aitor’s apple, when she’d heard a sort of whoosh and seen a pointed thing flying towards her incredibly fast.

Before she had time to get out of the way, the pointy thing hit Aitor’s apple with a loud thwack! She looked up the hill to see what had attacked her, and there was Mr Horn-thingy staring right at her!

They’d locked eyes for a second and then he’d jumped to his feet and started running towards her. That had sparked Heather into life, and she’d set off for the door as fast as her trotters would carry her.

The trouble was, Mr Hornbuckle was running downhill, and Heather was running up. Even galloping her fastest, there was no way she was going to get to the door before he did.

Mr Hornbuckle was closing in. She was pretty quick, he had to admit, but he was quicker. His feet were struggling to go fast enough, and sensing he was within range, he took three last steps and leapt.

Heather looked up to see the wild face of the pest controller, moustache flattened, arms outstretched, flying through the air towards her. Heather tried to dodge, but she’d never been a particularly fast turner, and she lost her balance and skidded sideways, going head over heels. As she did, she saw an anguished Mr Hornbuckle fly past, scrabbling at her skin as he did so, only to feel his clutching fingers latch onto and grip her curly tail.

Heather squealed with surprise and pain, planted her trotters and yanked her bottom forward. Fortunately, it was enough – her tail slid through the huntsman’s fingers and the freed Heather ran for the doorway and leapt inside, followed only by an anguished cry and then a series of bump, ‘Ouch!’ bump, ‘Oof!’ bump, bump, bump, ‘Oooooh!’ sounds as the pest controller rolled uncontrollably down the hill like a bouncing football. Down, down, down, until finally the bumps went silent and were replaced by a long howl and then at last a loud splash as he rolled over the edge of the cliff and plummeted down to the bottom of the water-logged quarry.

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