Molly Moon & the Morphing Mystery

Molly slowly sat up, leaning her shoulders heavily against the wall of the hut, and she reached to the back of her head to touch it. It had a big bandage. She wondered how badly she had hurt herself and how long she had been unconscious. Petula nuzzled at her leg. Molly felt her face. Her eyes were puffy and her forehead and cheekbones bruised. Molly remembered the huge hailstones that had smashed into her in the sky. Then she swallowed hard. She was horribly thirsty.

“Have a drink,” the man said, offering a cup to her.

The water tasted deliciously sweet and pure. Molly took small sips at first. Then she gulped down the whole cup and chased it with another. Dazed as she was, Molly found herself wondering whether the water was from the spring of the Coca River. Her body, like a parched plant, soaked up the fluid. It cleared her head. Suddenly Molly felt ravenous.

“Um, I’m sorry about this,” she said to the man. “I know you’ve saved my life and everything, and you want to know things, but I’m really hun—” Before Molly had finished her sentence, the man passed her a plate of food.

“It looks a little strange,” he said, “but it tastes great. You’ll see.”

Molly began to eat. It was delicious—some sort of vegetable mixed with onions, herbs, and garlic. But her mouth had forgotten how to chew, and her stomach had shrunk to the size of a Ping-Pong ball. After only a couple of mouthfuls, Molly felt full.

Molly wiped her mouth. “Thank you,” she said, her brain now ticking properly. “Where am I? Are the others here, too?”

“You’re the only one I’ve found,” the man said.

Molly shook her head in horror. Then she studied the man’s face. “And…and who are you?”

“My name’s Bas.” The man smiled. “Basile is my real name, but people call me Bas. Basile is like your English name Basil. You know basil leaves; they’re green and taste really nice with tomatoes. Kinda funny name to have, I suppose. I’m a botanist—I study plants. It’s like my parents knew I would like plants. And as you can see, we are right in the middle of a place with a lot of green stuff.”

Molly reached down and stroked Petula. She could feel her strength coming back by the minute. She looked up at Bas gratefully.

“Thank you for finding me. I could have died.”

“Certainly could have. You were lucky that I was out that night tracking a wild pig. You are also fortunate that I know a lot about the medicinal properties of rain-forest plants. I was able to mix an ointment that was perfect for fixing your wound.”

“Was it bad?” Molly asked, reaching up to the lump on the back of her head.

“Pretty bad. You kind of split it and bumped it. You’ve been concussed for a few days. Knocked out. Have you got a headache?”

“No.” Molly suddenly felt sick with fear. She was alive because she had been lucky. What about the others? “Do you think the others are dead?”

Bas tilted his head. “We can look for them,” he said. “The best thing is to stay optimistic, and you mustn’t worry.” He paused and changed the subject. “You’ve probably acclimatized to the mountain air while you’ve been asleep. It’s really high up here where we are. Less oxygen in the air. Takes a bit of getting used to. Are you feeling okay?”

Molly nodded. She wondered how long he had lived in the Ecuadorian jungle.

“How come you’re here?” she asked.

“Oh, I’m writing a book. It’s been taking me years to research. Three years and four months so far, to be precise. It’s all about the precious herbs and plants in the cloud forest and how they can help cure people. It’s all about not letting the forest be chopped down. Because if we lose the trees and the unique plants and fungi here, we lose the wisdom of the place. There are amazing cures for human illnesses in this jungle.” Petula gave a little growl. “Okay, and for dog illnesses, too. How about cat illnesses?” Bas studied Petula’s face. “Can’t imagine you care so much about cats.”

Molly laughed.