hey’d been on the road for a little under twenty-four hours when the Penguin-Mobile stopped, and Clarabelle tapped on the glass. “We’re here,” she said.

Scapegrace slid open the freezer and got out. He watched Clarabelle stretch, envying the yawn that accompanied the movement. He was dead. He didn’t get tired any more. He missed it.

It was another gorgeous day outside. Grumbling, he put on a coat and pulled up the hood to hide his head. Clarabelle left the van first, and Scapegrace pushed Thrasher aside so he could go next. He stepped on to a pavement. It was awfully familiar. He looked around.

“We’re in Roarhaven,” he said.

Clarabelle nodded. “This is where the new Sanctuary is.”

He stared at her. “But I know Roarhaven. I lived here for years. I know how to get to Roarhaven. We didn’t have to spend twenty-four hours driving around waiting for you to remember where the Sanctuary was. You could have just said Roarhaven and I’d have known. We could have been here in an hour.”

“It’s not about the destination. It’s about the journey.”

“It’s a little about the destination,” Thrasher said quietly.

“And besides,” Clarabelle said, “we got to see the sights, didn’t we?”

“I was stuck in a freezer,” Scapegrace reminded her.

“This is my home now,” Clarabelle said, ignoring them. “Or it will be, if I get the job. It’s a lovely town, isn’t it?”

Scapegrace hesitated. “Do you really think so?”

“No, I don’t,” she admitted. “I liked where I was living in Dublin more. I had a nice flat, and I had a gerbil. His name was Theodore.”

“That’s a nice name,” said Thrasher.

“I don’t think he liked it. Roarhaven, though, it isn’t a gerbil kind of place.”

“I don’t suppose it is,” Scapegrace said.

“The people aren’t very nice.”

“They don’t trust outsiders.”

“I don’t think Theodore would have fitted in. Before I left, I released him into the wild.”

Thrasher frowned. “You released your gerbil into the wild?”

“Yes. Back into his natural habitat. It was only fair. Now he can live out the rest of his life, hunting his prey and raising a family.”

“What, uh, what would a gerbil’s prey be?”

“Nuts, mostly.”

Thrasher frowned. “And how would he hunt nuts?”

Clarabelle shrugged. “He’d probably lie in wait or something. I don’t know. But he’s out there now, living his life, and I’m here, in Roarhaven, trying to start a new one. I’m going to ask for a job now.” She started walking towards the Sanctuary. Scapegrace hesitated, then followed after her. Thrasher scurried along behind.

“If you get a job,” Scapegrace said, “maybe you could ask Doctor Nye to bring me back to life, as a favour.”

“Doctor Nye doesn’t do favours,” Clarabelle said. “Doctor Nye is not that kind of boss.”