Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children - BOOCarz

“Fine,” I said, “so let’s think. If you were a wight,
where would you take a couple of kidnapped
ymbrynes?”
“Depends on what’s to be done with ’em,” Enoch
said. “And that, we don’t know.”
“You’d have to get them off the island first,” Emma
said. “So you’d need a boat.”
“But which island?” asked Hugh. “In the loop or out
of it?”
“The outside’s getting torn apart by a storm,” I said.
“Nobody’s getting far in a boat over there.”
“Then he’s got to be on our side,” Emma said,
beginning to sound hopeful. “So what are we larking
about here for? Let’s get to the docks!”
“Maybe he’s at the docks,” Enoch said. “That is, if
he ain’t gone yet. And even if he ain’t and we
somehow manage to find him in all this dark, and
without getting holes ripped through our guts by
shrapnel on the way, there’s still his gun to worry
about. Have you all gone mad? Would you rather have
the Bird kidnapped—or shot right in front of us?”
“Fine, then!” Hugh shouted. “Let’s just give up and
go home then, shall we? Who’d like a nice hot cup of
tea before bed? Hell, as long as the Bird ain’t around,
make it a toddy!” He was crying, wiping angrily at his
eyes. “How can you not even try, after all she’s done
for us?”
Before Enoch could answer, we heard a voice
calling us from the path. Hugh stepped forward,
squinting, and after a moment his face went strange.
“It’s Fiona,” he said. Before that moment I’d never
heard Fiona utter so much as a peep. It was
impossible to make out what she was saying over the
sound of planes and distant concussions, so we took
off running across the bog.
When we got to the path, we were breathing hard
and Fiona was hoarse from shouting, her eyes as wild