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aren’t any interesting things.”
    â€œYou’re a scientist,” snapped his wife. “Invent some.”
    And she ended the call.
    ***
    Holly Boomberg had indeed found a trail. A scuffle in the dirt behind the airfield shed had settled into a steady line of hoofprints that soon joined the desert road—the same road Stanley had taken only a few minutes earlier. The only road, in fact.
    Stupid animals , she thought. Where did they think they were going? They’d be dead within a day. She had to save them—well, Stanley’s chosen two. The rest could become vulture meat for all she cared.
    Holly had got over the shock of the sheep’s escape, convinced herself it had just been bad luck. No sheep could be that clever. She was feeling confident again. She leapt into the golf cart and drove off in a dramatic swirl of dust.
    ***
    Some way ahead in the shadeless desert, the warriors had slowed from a headlong race to a brisk trot.
    After a while, Sal said, “We are going the right way, aren’t we, dear?”
    She was sure Wills had once said something about using the sun to know where you were.
    Wills’s short legs had to move fast to keep up.
    â€œYes,” he gasped. “The sun’s behind us. It rises in the East, so we know we’re heading West.”
    â€œThat’s what I thought,” said Sal and she broke into a gallop again. “Onward, brave warriors!” she cried.
    Wills tried to speak but his voice got lost in the thunder of hooves and heavy breathing.
    Jaycey glanced at Sal and Oxo as she ran. It must have hurt when the Staple Gun Woman put the studs in their ears, but they did look very bling, glinting silver and gold in the sunlight. They were, she thought, wasted on Oxo and Sal.
    Oxo had forgotten all about the gold stud in his ear. The complete absence of grub was a much greater concern. There was simply no grass. He’d tried a nibble of one of the gray stunted trees dotted about the place, but it was dry and bitter—a poor second even to an Eppingham fence post. The spiny cactus plants were greenish but, whichever way you came at them, they gave you a bloody nose. He was fed up with not being fed.
    â€œWhat’s the point of a place where there’s no point stopping for breakfast?” he complained as he ran.
    â€œWhat did you expect, man?” said Links. “It’s the desert, right.”
    Wills finally made his voice heard.
    â€œI think we should slow down!” he called to Sal, who was still in the lead but now panting heavily.
    She skidded to a halt, then, after a moment, walked on slowly, her sides heaving.
    â€œWest is west,” she puffed, “and Red Tongue’s about to meet the best…”
    â€œRight,” said Wills. “But we’ve set off too fast.”
    Behind him, he heard Links beginning a new rap, his voice croaky but determined.
    â€œWe ain’t never been so hot before,
    But we gotta show Red Tongue the door,
    We got a job and it’s gotta be done,
    So it’s no use complainin’ ’bout the sun.
    We know we can take it, ’cause we is tough,
    The Warrior Sheep ain’t never had enough…
    The Warrior Sheep ain’t never had enough…”
    He sang quietly at first, nodding his head and flicking his damp curls from his eyes as he walked. The others listened and then joined in, gradually getting louder and stronger as they stopped puffing. Their plod became a march, their necks straightened, and their spirits rose.
    â€œThe Warrior Sheep ain’t never had enough…”
    ***
    A little way behind them but catching up fast, Holly Boomberg stopped to take a drink from the bottle of water in the golf cart. She was no longer angry at the size of the vehicle. Or its lack of air conditioning. It went surprisingly fast and she only had to glance out of the open sides as she drove to follow the trail. She could still see the sheep’s