Once again, Nicola’s arms and legs flailed as she plummeted through the air, only this time she wasn’t going to land in an icy river. This time she was going to land face-first on that icy, snow-covered mountain rushing up to meet her. This time there was no way she could survive (and by the way, how dare Greta say she was annoying? Now she would never have the chance to answer her back!). This time her nose was probably going to be smashed to smithereens, which would presumably be EXTREMELY painful. This time –

KERPOW!

Before any part of Nicola actually hit the ground, something exploded all around her. Something huge and rubbery and damp-smelling.

She held her breath, waiting for the terrible pain.

Which part of her was hurt or broken?

No part, as far as she could tell . . .

She was fine. She was alive!

I just survived a fall from a hot-air balloon.

Nicola took a shaky breath.

I JUST SURVIVED A FALL FROM A HOT-AIR BALLOON! It was unbelievable.

Her whole face had been scrunched up tight in preparation for hitting the ground. Slowly, carefully, she unscrunched it and opened her eyes.

Her bubble-jacket had been transformed into a gigantic round rubber ball from which only her head protruded like a tortoise. The ball was rolling backwards and forwards on the spot. She tried to move her arms and legs and found that she was trapped within the ball, exactly as the notice had said she would be. Well, she couldn’t complain. The bubble-jacket had done its job and saved her life.

She looked up and saw she’d landed underneath some sort of rocky ledge that protected her from the hurricane. She could hear the wind still howling and the rain pounding. She wondered where the others had landed. Were they all safe? Had all their bubble-jackets worked? She hoped Shimlara had put hers on properly. Sometimes she could be a bit slap-dash with that sort of thing.

Her nose was itchy and because her arms were trapped she couldn’t scratch it. She tried to drop her face forward to rub it on the edge of the ball, but she couldn’t bend her neck far enough.

Well, it was only an itchy nose. She could cope with an itchy nose.

Oh, but this was unbearable.

She twitched her nose and shook her head.

It was excruciating. It was worse than the Biter wound on her arm (which was now aching quite painfully thanks to all the smashing about in the hot-air balloon). If she didn’t scratch her nose within the next five seconds she would explode.

Her rubber ball rolled forward. Nicola glanced down and forgot all about her itchy nose.

Oh . . . my . . . goodness.