The next morning, Holly struggled. The bed was surprisingly comfortable and she had made herself cozy, cocooned in the duvet. If she kept her eyes closed, she could almost imagine that she was back home again. Home. Thinking about it made her heart ache. Oh, the look Johnny's face would have when she got back! Actually, Holly struggled to imagine that. Was he worried about her? She snuggled deeper into the duvet, hoping against hope that when she opened her eyes, a familiar ceiling would be above her. 

Little feet jumped onto the bed and pattered over her. A little nose snuffled in her ear. Instead of that familiar ceiling, when Holly forced her eyes open, she was greeted by the happy little image of a snow white ferret gazing down at her. 

"Hello Bluebell." Holly said. 

The ferret jumped excitedly and nuzzled her face again. A giggle escaped from Holly's lips and she reached out her fingers to stroke Bluebell's soft fur. 

Rolling out the bed, Holly shivered in the cold air. She dressed quickly and went outside, Bluebell scurrying after her, to find Terry ready and waiting. 

"Morning" he greeted. "We've got a bit of time for sightseeing if you still wanted to." He glanced down at his watch. "A bit." 

"Sightsee?" Holly said. She could have sworn he hadn't agreed to it yesterday. "I..I'd love to."

Terry nodded. "Come on then. I'll show you the Bridge House." He turned to set off. Holly called him to a halt. 

"Wait a minute." she said, "What happened to your face?"

Slowly, Terry turned around to face her again. He avoided her gaze. Now that she had spotted it, it was clear to see the green bruise on his eyebrow and the thin crimson scrapes down the side of his face. 

"What happened" he said quietly, "was Richie's 'little chat'. I refused to look at his car and....well." 

Holly gasped. "He can't do that! We should call the police."

"The Cavoteon town council refuse to have any kind of watchmen. They stubbornly believe that everyone here is as kind as can be."

"What?" 

"There are no police here." Terry clarified. 

"Then...then...." Holly tried to think. "We could get him disqualified from the race?"

"Physical abuse was not against the rules. And if it wasn't in the rules, Mr Bluewater will not care. He has a reputation for being brutal in that respect."

"But..!" Holly could not believe it. 

Terry sighed, finally looking at her with sympathetic eyes. He no longer appeared embarrassed. "There's nothing we can do, Holly."

Her mind reeling, they set off to look at the Bridge House. Richie had so far come across to her as a gentleman. A sly gentleman perhaps, but a gentleman none the less. Raymond surely doesn't work for a man like that?

It wasn't long before they had wound their way through the town to stand before the Bridge House. It was much bigger than Holly had expected. It was like a giant semi circle that spanned the width of the river she had seen yesterday. Strangely shaped windows dotted the walls and a grand pair of doors sat right above the-

"Oi, you're in my view girly."

Holly spun round. Stood behind her was a plumpish old man in a dirty smock. Wild grey hair burst out from underneath his hat and in front of him stood a small easel. 

"Oh, Sorry." Holly said, stepping from the artist's view. He made her jump by suddenly grabbing her arm. 

"Hey now" he said, "It costs ya to stand in my view."

"What do you mean? I moved."

"You still stood in it though. That's three imps." He held out a paint covered hand expectantly. 

"Right, right." Holly said, "I'll just get some." 

She turned back towards Terry. At first, she thought he was talking to himself before she realised that he was talking to her. He hadn't noticed she wasn't listening. Or was he talking to Bluebell? The ferret was sat in his arms while he chatted away. Gently prodding his arm, Terry turned to face her. 

"Sorry, I need three Imps please."

"What for?"

"This man here" Holly gestured to the artist, who sneered. "I was standing in his view."

"For standing in his view?" Terry said, "That's ridiculous. Just tell him to sod off."

Nodding, Holly turned back to the artist. "Er..sorry" she said, "I can't give you-"

"Three Imps" The man said, "I'm waiting."

Holly didn't know what to do. She didn't want to trample on some kind of local culture, but Terry wouldn't give her the money. 

"Terry" she said nervously, "He still wants those imps. Perhaps we should just give it to him?"

Still cradling Bluebell in his arms, Terry sighed. Addressing the artist, he said sternly "You're not getting any Imps from either of us. Especially for such an absurd notion as just standing in the way." 

The artist glowered, but said nothing. 

Terry huffed, apparently satisfied. "Come on Holly." He started walking off across the open space. Holly hurried after him. He turned his head to her, his eyebrows knitted in a slight frown. 

"Sorry" Holly muttered, "I thought it was some local culture thing."

"It's not." he said, "Not anywhere. You can't let people like that walk over you Holly. You've got to stand up for yourself."

She nodded, embarrassed for being so gullible. 

Her mood soon perked up again as Terry led them to see a couple of other sights. A fountain with a statue of a winged horse in the middle and a large street where all the cobbles were various shades of turquoise. It was a whistle stop tour, and all heading in the same direction. Holly could only wish that she had her phone with her. She would have taken hundreds of pictures by now. 

Lastly, Terry led them into a more industrial part of town, taking them up to a shabby looking building. 

"What's this place?" Holly asked.

"Where we are getting our fuel from." he replied. "They've also agreed to drive us back to the Moth."

Holly felt a shudder run down her spine as she remembered his words from the day before. 'The last place we can get fuel before crossing the mountains'. She was probably overthinking it. They would be fine. Absolutely fine. 

They entered inside into a dimly lit reception area. 

"Ah, Mr Whitlock." A man behind the desk greeted cheerfully. "It was dragon fuel, right?"

"That's right." Terry said.

"Great. It'll be ready to go in a moment." The man replied, walking off through another door.

"What's dragon fuel?" Holly asked. 

"Fuel that comes from a dragon." He said. 

"A dragon?" 

"Yes. We saw one as we flew over here."

Holly tried to get her head around that. "How do you get fuel out of a dragon?"

Terry frowned. "I don't actually know."

"Will it work?"

"Why would I get fuel if it didn't work?"

"I don't know." Holly crossed her arms and looked away meekly. In hindsight, that last one was a bit of a silly question to ask. He was a mechanic, of course he'd know what fuel would work. 

The man from the desk soon returned. "All ready now" he said, "It's this way."

He led them through a door and round to the back of a building where a small park of bowser's were parked. The man walked up to the nearest one and climbed into the driver's seat, motioning to Terry and Holly to get in too. 

They spent most of the drive in silence, not that that bothered Holly. She was too absorbed with looking out the window and watching the parts of Cavoteon they hadn't visited float past. Occasionally they got stuck in a bit of traffic or had to wait for people to move out of the way. People here never seemed to be in much of a rush to get anywhere and would saunter across the roads without a care in the world. The further they drove the less busy it became, until houses became grassland dotted with trees and roads became dirt tracks that slowly faded into nothingness. 

Terry started directing the driver towards the forest where they had hidden the Moth. It wasn't long before they discovered that the bowser wasn't built for off-roading. Holly clung to the doorhandle as they bounced over another lumpy bit of ground. As they got closer, the driver started to give Terry some funny looks.

"I hope it's not much further" he said with a nervous laugh, "I'm not sure how much more of this bumpiness I can take. What little suspension there was is probably wrecked by now."

"We're nearly there." Terry assured him. 

They followed the edge of the wood round. Bluebell, who was sat up close to the windscreen, her nose having been pressed against the glass nearly the whole way, pulled her nose away and started squeaking as they turned the final corner. The cave, nestled between the trees, came into view. 

Terry smiled, and looked about to say something before his smile turned to a frown and he leaned forward, peering through the windscreen. 

"Are those tyre tracks?" he asked. 

"Of course there's going to be tyre tracks." The driver replied, "We've come in a great big truck. You can't avoid leaving some marks."

"That's not what I meant." Terry replied quietly. The driver didn't hear him. 

They pulled up right outside the cave and got out of the bowser. Terry almost immediately jumped down and started hunting around the ground. He looked under the bowser. It was hard to tell if the tracks were theirs or not anymore. 

"Do these look like our tracks?" Terry asked Holly tersely. 

Holly bent down to look, Bluebell scampering over to join them. "I don't know." she said. "Why are you so worried?"

He looked at her like she had gone mad. "You're not?"

Holly shook her head, confused. 

The bowser driver cut in, "Do you want this fuel or don't you?"

"Oh, yes, of course." Terry stood up and hurried over to the Moth while the driver started pulling out a hose from the back.  

Holly continued to look at the tyre tracks, working her way round behind the bowser while it noisily pumped fuel into the Gipsy Moth. Bluebell scampered over the ground ahead of her. Holly honestly couldn't tell. If there had been tracks before, their own had obliterated them. Terry must just be anxious, like she was. Besides, so what of there had been? It could have been people come to do forestry work, or something of the sort. No one would want to sabotage their aeroplane. Right? And no one knew it was here. Except for Raymond, she realised. She had told him yesterday they had hidden it in a cave. No, no, Holly scolded herself. He wouldn't do that. She was overthinking it, like Terry had. Standing up again, she shook the thoughts out of her head and walked over to help Terry.