“Look, there’s the eagle. It’s on a different tree,” said Granny.

  They both stopped and Bobbie put the binoculars to her eyes for a better view. It was closer this time, with its back to them. There was a long wire sticking out from its back. “It’s got something stuck to it,” said Bobbie.

  Granny took the binoculars from her. “Ooh!” said Granny. “I hadn’t noticed that before. I think it’s got a satellite tag. I heard a programme about that on the radio. The tag sends a signal so that the eagle watchers know exactly where it is.”

  “Eagle watchers?” said Bobbie.

  “Yes,” said Granny. “They’re the scientific folk who track these eagles.”

  “That’s good, isn’t it?” said Bobbie. “It means someone’s looking out for it.”

  “Sort of,” said Granny. “It doesn’t stop someone putting poison out, but if it does get poisoned, then its tag will stop moving and the eagle watchers will come and find it.”

  “But what if Angus smashes up the tag because he doesn’t want them to find it?” asked Bobbie. “What if it can’t send a signal?”

  Granny frowned. “Then I suppose the eagle will just vanish without a trace.”

  “Speaking of Angus,” said Bobbie as she peered through the trees. “Isn’t that him over there?”

  Granny looked through the trees too. Angus was walking along a track, keeping to the shadows. He was a tall thin man, with dark hair and pale skin. He wore a dark-green jacket and carried a shotgun under his arm. He was looking up at the treetops.

  “C’mon,” said Granny as she stuffed the binoculars under her coat. “My guess is that he’s seen the eagle flying about here but doesn’t know where it’s roosting. We don’t want him to find it. You stay here. I’m going to distract him.”

  “Granny!” called Bobbie. She ran to catch up.

  Angus saw them and scowled.

  “You’re out of your way,” Granny said to Angus. “Don’t normally see you here in the forest.”

  “I’m counting red grouse on this side of the moor,” Angus said.

  “How odd,” said Granny. “They don’t roost in the tops of trees. Not looking for anything else, are you?”

  Angus ignored her and walked over to his quad bike.

  Granny followed him. “My dog was poisoned yesterday. I’ve got a funny feeling you might know something about it.”

  “Not me,” said Angus. He sneered. “But it’s no bad thing that dog’s gone. He was an ugly old mutt.”

  “Bobbie found him,” said Granny, her voice getting louder. “Poison like that could have killed her too. How would you feel about the death of a child?”

  Angus looked quickly back at Bobbie and started up the engine. “Move out of my way. You’ve got no proof.”

  Granny hadn’t finished. “If I find any more dead rabbits that have been put out as poisoned bait, I’m calling the police.”

  “That wouldn’t be a good idea,” said Angus, revving the engine. “You don’t want to make an enemy of the duke.”

  Granny put her hands on her hips. “You don’t scare me. It’s time you lot stopped killing eagles. You should go to prison for what you’ve done.”

  Angus drove the quad bike forward so that it almost touched Granny. “You don’t scare me either,” he said. “No one has ever been arrested for killing an eagle. There’s nothing you can do.”

  “You’re right,” spat Granny. “People like you and the duke get away with it all the time. And that’s the biggest crime of all.”

  Chapter 5

  Uncle Fraser arrived in the evening as the sun was setting. Bobbie ran out to see him and help bring his bags into the house. She couldn’t find any shoes to put on, so she hopped across the gravel in her bare feet.

  Dad helped Uncle Fraser out of the car and handed him his crutches.

  “Uncle Fraser!” said Bobbie.

  “Bobbie!” Uncle Fraser smiled. “My favourite great niece.”

  Bobbie laughed. “I’m your only great niece.”

  Uncle Fraser peered closely at her. “Let’s have a look at you. A bit taller. A bit older.” He looked down at her feet. “Oh dear,” he said, shaking his head. “This won’t do. You are getting as wild as your granny. We’ll have to do something about it.”

  Bobbie laughed. “Have you brought any books, Uncle Fraser?”

  He nodded to one of his bags. “Try lifting that one.”

  Bobbie tried to lift it, but it was so heavy that she couldn’t even get it off the ground.

  “It’s full of books to keep me busy,” said Uncle Fraser. “There are a few I think you’ll like too.”

  At suppertime, Bobbie sat between Granny and Uncle Fraser, not sure which one to talk to in case she upset the other.

  Mum spooned lamb stew onto plates. “It’s good to see you, Uncle Fraser,” she said.

  Uncle Fraser tucked his napkin into his shirt. “Thank you, Fiona. This looks delicious, as usual. It’s kind of you to let me stay.”

  “My pleasure.” Mum smiled.

  Granny picked up a fork and inspected it. “Are these the silver ones, dear? We don’t usually see these ones out unless we have a special guest.”

  Mum gave Granny a hard look. “Uncle Fraser is a special guest.”

  Granny lifted a wine glass and inspected it. “Wine and crystal glasses too. We are going up in the world.”

  Uncle Fraser ignored Granny and turned to Bobbie. “So, Bobbie, how’s school?”

  Bobbie didn’t know what to say. Why did adults always ask about school? “Fine,” she said.

  “I mean what are your favourite subjects? Science? English? History?”

  Bobbie looked down at her food.

  Uncle Fraser took a sip of wine. “What’s your dream, Bobbie? What do you wish most for in the world?”

  Bobbie turned to Dad. Maybe this was the moment. “I want a dog.”

  “A dog?” said Uncle Fraser. His bushy eyebrows shot up.

  “A dog?’” said Dad.

  Bobbie nodded. “A sheepdog of my own. I want a pup to train.”

  Uncle Fraser smiled. “I mean what are your dreams for your future?”

  Mum turned to Bobbie. “Uncle Fraser has made us a very generous offer. He wants to pay for you to go to St Rhona’s School for Girls.”

  “St Rhona’s?” said Bobbie.

  Dad nodded. “It’s a very good school in Edinburgh. You could board there in the term time.”

  “They get very good results,” said Mum. “It would be a wonderful chance for you.”

  “I like it here,” said Bobbie.

  Uncle Fraser dabbed his mouth with his napkin. “In Edinburgh you have the theatre and museums and the art galleries. There’s so much to see,” he said. He opened his arms wide. “There’s culture.”

  Granny did the biggest burp Bobbie had ever heard. Bobbie saw Granny’s mouth curl up in a smile and she knew Granny had done it on purpose.

  “I have indigestion tablets if you need some,” said Uncle Fraser.

  “No need for that,” said Granny. She did another loud burp. “Better out than in.”

  Uncle Fraser frowned. “If I were you, I’d see a doctor, my dear.”

  They ate in silence after that, the knives and forks tapping on the plates.

  “Pudding, anyone?” said Mum. “It’s apple tart.”

  “Pudding too?” said Granny, raising her eyebrows. “Well, this is a treat. I can’t remember the last time I had pudding.”

  “I’m a little full, thank you,” said Uncle Fraser. He looked over at Granny. “And I’ve had better company. Maybe I could have pudding in my room with a cup of tea later. Earl Grey tea, if you have it.”

  Bobbie watched Dad help Uncle Fraser up the stairs.

  Granny shook her head. “Bobbie doesn’t need museums and galleries when she’s got all this,” she said, pointing out of the window to the mountains.

  “Granny!” said Bobbie’s mum. “It’s very good of Uncle Fraser to offer to pay for St Rhona’s. You said you wished you’d had the chances he had. Maybe he’s trying to make up for it with Bobbie.”

  Granny scowled and got up to leave. She imitated Uncle Fraser’s posh Edinburgh accent. “I’m a little full too, Fiona dear,” she said, dabbing her napkin on her lips. “Maybe I could have apple tart brought to me in my cold damp shed with a cup of tea.” With that, she stomped out of the house.

  Bobbie waited until Dad came back into the kitchen. “I don’t want to go to a different school.”

  “It’s a very good school,” said Mum.

  “I like it here,” said Bobbie.

  “Have a think about it,” said Dad. “It can’t hurt to think about it.”

  But it did hurt to think about it, because it would mean leaving the farm, leaving Mum, Dad and Granny, and leaving her eagle.

  Chapter 6

  That evening, Bobbie didn’t go out to see Granny. Instead, she took the tea and apple tart to Uncle Fraser. She didn’t want to talk about the new school, so she sat with him and told him all about the eagle instead.

  “We had a show about eagles at the museum once,” said Uncle Fraser. “It was wonderful. There were sculptures and paintings and ancient jewellery in the shape of eagles. People have worshipped eagles for thousands of years.”

  “Not here,” said Bobbie. “People want to kill them.”

  “Well, that’s a shame,” said Uncle Fraser. He pointed to one of the bags he had brought with him. “Have a look in there, Bobbie. There’s a book about people who hunt with eagles in Mongolia.”

  Bobbie pulled out a large book and opened it at a page with a photo of a hunter wearing furs and bright clothes. He was riding a horse and he had an eagle on his arm.

  “The Kazakh nomads hunt with golden eagles,” said Uncle Fraser. “They catch the eagles when they’re young, then they train them to hunt. But after about eight years, they return them to the wild again.”

  Bobbie turned the pages to look at pictures of eagles soaring above a vast landscape of plains and mountains. It was like opening a window to a different world. What would it be like to hold an eagle and train it to fly for you? she thought.

  Mum stuck her head around the door. “Bedtime,” she said. “Let Uncle Fraser get some rest.”

  Bobbie gave Uncle Fraser a hug and went out. “I’ll go and say goodnight to Granny too,” she told Mum.

  “Granny’s asleep,” said Mum. “You can see her in the morning.”

  Bobbie brushed her teeth and got ready for bed. She switched the light off and opened the window wide. She curled up under her duvet and stared out at the crescent moon. The moonlight on her duvet made it look as if the folds were a range of snowy mountains. Bobbie linked her thumbs together and spread her fingers wide, as if they were wings, and made her hands fly over the duvet mountains.

  Soon she was asleep. She dreamed she was flying high above the earth, with the wind in her wings. The valley lay far below, with the river glittering in the evening sunlight. Her wingtips touched the thin wisps of cloud that curled in the thin air. This was her world – of wild open sky.

  A single gunshot rang out.

  She felt the shot. Suddenly the air no longer held her. She was falling towards the earth. The ground rushed up towards her, the heather and rocks came closer and closer. Her tattered wings trailed behind her.

  She was falling, falling, falling.

  Bobbie sat up in bed gasping for breath. She gripped onto the bed. She was wide awake, heart banging in her chest.

  A horrible dream.

  A horrible dream.

  She lay back in bed, her hands clammy with sweat.

  She lay still and tried to forget her dream.

  Another shot rang out.

  It shattered the silence. Startled crows cawed loudly as they took flight.

  Bobbie was up and out of bed, staring out of the window.

  The moorland was dark and still.

  But somewhere out there, someone had fired two shots into the night.

  Chapter 7

  Bobbie saw Granny’s light come on inside her shed.

  Granny must have heard the shots too.

  Bobbie grabbed her phone, dressed quickly and crept downstairs and out of the back door. Granny was standing beside her shed looking over to the forest edge.

  “You heard it too?” said Bobbie.

  “Yes,” said Granny.

  “Who’d be out this time of night?” said Bobbie.

  “Who d’you think?” growled Granny. “Those shots came from the forest edge where the eagle roosts. Though I don’t know how Angus could shoot an eagle in the dark.”

  “Maybe he’s got one of those night-vision cameras,” said Bobbie. “The ones that pick up body heat. You see them on the TV in wildlife programmes or when policemen catch burglars at night.”

  Granny was silent for a time. “I wish I had one of those cameras to look for whoever’s out there shooting eagles.”

  “We could go out now and look,” said Bobbie.

  Granny shook her head. “There’s no point. We won’t see anything. We’ll go at first light.”

  Bobbie curled up with a blanket in Granny’s armchair, but she couldn’t sleep. She stayed awake and watched the stars fade and the dawn sky turn blood red.

  Had Angus really shot the eagle? She didn’t want to believe that the eagle she and Granny had watched soar over the mountains might already be dead.

  *

  As the first rays of sun lit up the sky, Granny yawned and stretched. She hadn’t slept much either. “Let’s go then,” she said. “But I don’t think we’ll find anything. If Angus has killed the eagle, he’ll have hidden it and will be far away already.”

  “What would he do with it?” said Bobbie.

  “He’d probably destroy the tag and bury the eagle somewhere,” said Granny. “Its last signal will have been sent from here.”

  “So the eagle watchers might come here, if they think this is the last place he roosted,” said Bobbie. “We can tell them we heard two shots.”

  “There’s no proof,” snapped Granny. “And that’s the problem. Angus would say the shots were him out shooting foxes.”

  Bobbie and Granny walked across the fields. Rain was in the air. Bobbie could feel it. Dark clouds had spread across the sky. A storm was brewing up in the mountains.

  Bobbie scanned the treetops. She hoped and hoped to see the eagle but couldn’t spot him anywhere.

  The wind rose and rushed through the trees, and above that came the sound of an engine.

  “Shh!” said Bobbie, and pulled Granny into the shadows. “There’s Angus on his quad bike.”

  They both crouched down and watched Angus switch the engine off and let his dog jump down. Angus began to scan the trees with his binoculars while he sent his dog away into the brambles. He walked up and down the track as if he was looking for something.

  “What’s he doing here?” whispered Bobbie.

  Granny peered out. “He’s looking for the eagle, of course. I think he shot it but didn’t kill it. It might be injured somewhere. He could be in trouble if the eagle watchers find it has been shot.”

  Bobbie stood up and brushed the pine needles from her jeans. “Let’s find the eagle before Angus does.”

  “Come on,” said Granny. “Let’s put him off.” She stomped through bracken towards Angus.

  Angus spun around. He couldn’t hide the surprise on his face before he scowled at them. “What’re you doing here?”

  “We heard shots in the night,” said Granny. “Thought we’d come and look.”

  Angus just watched her.

  “Looking for something, Angus?” said Granny. “An eagle, perhaps?”

  Angus spat on the ground. “Why don’t you go and mind your own business?”

  “This is my business,” snapped Granny.

  “Mine too,” said Bobbie, stepping forward.

  Angus glared at them, then turned and headed up the track, sending his dog into the forest again.

  “Let’s go this way,” said Bobbie. “Let’s find the eagle before he does.”

  Bobbie and Granny headed back along the southern edge of the forest, looking up into the branches and down across the forest floor. But it was difficult to see into the green gloom.

  After nearly two hours of walking and looking, Granny sat down on a log. Angus had already driven away, but it didn’t look like he had found the eagle either.

  “Where d’you think it is?” asked Bobbie.

  Granny shook her head. “No idea.”

  It was as if their eagle had vanished into thin air.

  Chapter 8

  Bobbie and Granny headed back to the farmhouse.

  “If it’s hurt and has stopped moving, the eagle watchers will come and try to find it,” said Granny.

  “How long will that take?” asked Bobbie.

  Granny shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know.”

  “I’m going back out after breakfast to look for it,” said Bobbie. “I want to find it before Angus does.”

  Bobbie’s stomach rumbled. She had been out since dawn and was starving. She could see the yellow glow of the light in the kitchen and Uncle Fraser sitting at the table.

  A scowl crept across Granny’s face. “I forgot he was still here. I expect he’s having smoked salmon for his breakfast.”

  Bobbie kicked off her boots by the door and went inside; Granny held the door open. Uncle Fraser was wearing a silk dressing gown, spreading toast with butter and jam. He was looking at his phone.

  “They’re rude, those things are,” said Granny. “People spend their lives looking at their phones and forget to look around them.”

  “I’d still be lying on the floor if I hadn’t had my phone with me to call the ambulance,” said Uncle Fraser. “Even better, I can keep in contact with Bobbie too.”

 

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