Page 152 - Mobile Magic

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gallery to be full of “Friends Of Green Mountain”, but for a large and noisy protest outside the Council Chambers.
Saffron was a bit relieved that the adults seemed to have taken over the fight, but she was not really sure that it would work. Mr Worragul, the art teacher, had told her how the adults hadn’t been able to stop those wetlands being drained. What would stop a rich developer and that horrible, sleazy Mayor from using the same lousy, cheating tricks again?
Straight after breakfast she dressed in her riding gear and headed out to the horse-paddock. She had little time to spare for poor Magic, who was hanging out near the shed in the hope of something exciting for breakfast.
‘Here, have this,’ she said gruffly, pulling a rather limp carrot out of the back pocket of her jeans. ‘You’re getting positively gross anyway, I think it’s time to put you on a diet. Must be all this spring grass. Of course, you could always do a bit more exercise. How about some jumping, eh, gorgeous?’ She kissed the bemused pony on her velvety muzzle and headed towards Rocky Knoll.
As she trudged up the slope, Saffron thought deeply about the place. Her secret hideaway, a wild hollow filled with ferns and ringed with ancient trees; the sight of the proposed shopping mall, all plastic, piped music and “retail therapy”; the home of an amazing, quirky brown bird and his mate who were sitting on eggs.
The wackiest thing is, she decided, I wouldn’t be able to convince anyone Mobo existed, even if I wanted to.