The Official Site of Author Maria de Jong

I’d never been to the top of the island or even 
slept out on my own before, but I had everything planned: pop-up tent, sleeping bag, food. 
‘See?’ I told Tooth, showing him the map. 
‘We just go north. Easy.’

Tooth’s a pony. Not my pony – he’s his own horse. 
We understand each other. So when he grumbled, 
I should have listened. Because maps don’t show being cold and hungry and lost, or getting into big trouble.
I thought I was on a mission with my best friend, 
an adventure. Not a fast track to danger. 
Not a ride for our lives . . .