The Key to the Indian (An Avon Camelot Book)

The Key to the Indian (An Avon Camelot Book)

Lynne Reid Banks

Language: English

Pages: 288

ISBN: 0380803739

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub

He felt a draft of cold air. Instinctively he put his arms around his body. Then he looked down at himself and got a shock. He was naked...His first instinct was to hid. he scrambled over the earth floor of the longhouse and ducked under the curtain. Beyond was deeper darkness, but he could make out a sort of room with a raised section against the wall. On this was a mountain range covered with fur, in the shape of a sleeping giant.

Omri stared all around, feeling the beginnings of panic. "Dad!" he whispered as loudly as he dared...

There was no answer. Omri felt intensely vulnerable with no clothes on. Cold air embraced his skin from head to foot. He felt a sudden longing to go home. He hadn't reckoned on this--being separated from his dad, it being so dark and cold, so strange, so lonely.

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though Omri had tried to be as tactful as possible. “Sorry, Gilly,” Omri mumbled, and went into his room. He didn’t want to bolt the door because Gillon would hear, and maybe be more hurt. But the need to be safe was paramount. He put the tea down on the desk, and moved the bolt with infinite slowness. Of course it had to squeak. “Don’t worry!” Gillon called through the door. “You couldn’t pay me to come in now.” “Sorry,” was all Omri could think of to reply. He hurried to the bed. He was

was nearly dry. He smoothed its skirt with his fingers, held it by its top and flapped it a little in the warm air above the radiator. He had to stop at once because the flapping nearly blew her drawers away! He handed the dress to her. “What do you think? Is it dry enough?” he whispered. “It will do quite well. Please bring my – other garments.” He lifted his comb, taking great care to keep it level, and carried it to her. She snatched the drawers and the corset-thing and hid them in the

and it become too late.” “Are the – the toys ready?” “Ready many days!” “How many are there?” Little Bull held up two fingers. “What about one for me?” It was Patrick’s quiet voice. “Ah, Pat-Rick. You come with Om-Ri and father?” “Maybe,” said Patrick steadily. “No toy ready. Two is enough,” said Little Bull, folding his arms. There was an uncomfortable silence. “Right,” said Patrick. He reached across Omri, and before Omri could say or do anything, he had slammed the door shut and

gulp and gasp. Little Bull held them, one in each hand, in front of his handsome face. “You want food?” “Not just now” Omri’s father managed to say. “Good. Talk first.” Little Bull stuck them without ceremony into his belt, wrapped his cloak around them, and they heard the dry rustle of the corn-husks as he brushed past the curtain, moved swiftly beyond the room and, quite shortly, out into the open air. 16 Perfidious Albion When Little Bull strode with them up a steep hill and into

square, when I was shopping. I got a load of vegetables and I couldn’t carry them all in one go so the greengrocer said he’d take the other box out for me to the car. He asked me the registration, and I told him, and it burst on me like a blinding light.” “What, Dad?” “Go and look at it. The numberplate.” Omri, frowning, left the studio and crossed the yard to the open bays, in one of which was parked the family car – a third-hand Ford Cortina Estate that his father had recently bought when

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