Laura Ellen Anderson

Amelia Fang and the Lost Yeti Treasures


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WORRY THOUGH, THEY DON’T ALL SPEAK LIKE US. ONLY RARE BREEDS ’AVE SUCH BEAUTIFUL BOOMING VOICES.’ Laurence looked proud and grinned. ‘YOU’RE PROB’LY RELIEVED THOUGH. IMAGINE SPENDING AN ’OLE WEEKEND SURROUNDED BY SHOUTING?!’

      ‘I did wonder,’ said Grimaldi thoughtfully.

      ‘So, how many pits are there inside Yeti Mountain?’ asked Amelia curiously.

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      ‘THERE ARE LOADS,’ said Florence. ‘DAD DUG THE ’OLE LOT WHEN ’E WAS STILL AT DIGGER SCHOOL! ’E COMES ’ERE EVERY NIGHT TO LOOK AFTER ALL THE ANCIENT YETIS. AND WHEN I’M GROWN UP I WANNA DO THE SAME.’

      ‘THAT’S MY GIRL!’ said Laurence, giving his daughter a big sloppy kiss on the head.

      ‘DAAAAAAAD, GROSS!’ moaned Florence, wiping the slobber from her fur.

      ‘RIGHT, I BEST GO GET BREKKY SERVED,’ said Laurence, rubbing his paws together. ‘WE GOT SUPER SLIMY SLOW WORMS WITH TONGUE-FLUFF SPREAD. GO GET YERSELVES SOME BEFORE DEREK EATS THE LOT. ’E LOVES ’IS TONGUE-FLUFF !’ And Laurence stomped out of the room.

      Suddenly, from the pit opposite, Prince Tangine La Floofle the First emerged. His hair was extra glittery, his fangs were sparkling white and his face was positively glowing.

      ‘ARGH!’ Florence bellowed, covering her eyes. ‘DON’T LOOK DIRECTLY AT IT.’

      Tangine scowled. ‘How dare you,’ he said before stroking both cheeks. ‘I’ve never felt better. I discovered this new all-purpose glitter polish in my monthly Pampered Prince magazine. It’s called EveryKing Sparkles. You really can use it on EVERYTHING – nails, cheeks, hair, fangs and SHOES.’ He waved his foot around, causing flecks of light to bounce off the walls. ‘The results are phenomenal!’

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      Amelia squinted. ‘More like fluorescent.’

      ‘I’m kind of glad you’re sleeping in your own room this weekend,’ said Grimaldi, using the hood of his black robe to shield his eyes.

      Florence’s dad had insisted that Prince Tangine – half-vampire, half-fairy – have his very own pit for the duration of his stay. Florence had tried telling her dad that Tangine didn’t need any special ‘royal’ treatment, but Tangine had lapped up the attention. ‘More room for my weekend stash of EveryKing Sparkles polish!’ he had declared cheerfully.

      ‘Can anyone else smell . . . unicorn fart?’ asked Amelia.

      ‘AND MAGNIFICENCE?’ Florence added. ‘Y’KNOW THAT KINDA SOUR, SWEET, SICKLY SMELL. A BIT LIKE GLORY, BUT MORE SYRUP-Y.’

      ‘That’ll be the polish!’ Tangine confirmed. Squashy sniffed at Tangine’s shoes and began to lick them.

      ‘It’s polish, Squashy,’ said Tangine, ‘not food.’

      ‘Where’s Pumpy this weekend?’ asked Grimaldi.

      ‘Grounded,’ said Tangine, straightening his bow tie. ‘He’s been a very naughty pumpkin, so Mum is getting a pumpkin trainer in over the Winter Holidays!’

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      Pumpy was Tangine’s pet pumpkin, and a bit of a handful at times. But Tangine still loved him very much.

      ‘Now, let’s get to this party!’ said Tangine, throwing a silky scarf around his neck.

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      Amelia and her friends made their way along the candlelit tunnels to the Party Pit dressed in extra-warm layers. The Yeti Mountain pits were incredibly cold; colder than anywhere Amelia had been before. She had learnt from her Positively Pumpkin magazine that pumpkins did NOT like the cold and liked to find cosy spaces to keep warm. (Amelia loved everything to do with pumpkins and wanted to be a pumpkinologist when she grew up!) So, in order to keep Squashy snug, she had knitted him a spotty onesie for the weekend.

      The friends entered the Party Pit, which was decorated from top to bottom with bunting, cobwebs and pictures of Florence’s Grand-yeti Clemence. In the middle of the room sat a round table with the largest spread of frightful food Amelia had ever seen – it was even more impressive than the petrifying platter at her mother’s annual Barbaric Ball! Vessels of bubbly green liquid fizzed and gurgled, assorted scabs sat in bowls beside toe-jam pastries, and splattered spleen oozed out from between layers of spider-leg sponge cake. It all looked disgustingly delicious!

      Tangine gasped. ‘That is one of the best things I have EVER seen . . .’

      ‘I KNOW!’ agreed Florence enthusiastically. ‘FIRST OF ALL I’M GONNA START MAKING A DENT IN THE SPIDER-LEG SPONGE, THEN THOSE SCABS ARE ALL MINE AND THEN —’

      ‘No, not the food,’ Tangine replied, shaking his head dreamily. ‘That . . . right there . . . is the best thing I’ve ever seen!’ He skipped over to a baffled-looking yeti and stroked the sparkly tiara on her head. ‘It’s GLORIOUS,’ he breathed.

      ‘Oh!’ The yeti blushed. ‘It’s me favourite fing ever, this is! I wear it ALL the time.’ But Tangine, like a jittery magpie, had already danced over to a picture of Grand-yeti Clemence that stood on the table between the bowls of assorted scabs.

      ‘Actually, these glittery glasses may top the tiara,’ he squealed. ‘I must ask Florence’s Grand-yeti where they’re from!’

      ‘THEY’RE FROM THE GLITTEROPOLIS EYEDOLS,’ said the picture of Grand-yeti Clemence, making Tangine almost jump right out of his skin. ‘HEE HEE! THAT TRICK NEVVA GETS OLD!’ The old yeti chortled as she removed the picture frame from her face.

      ‘YOU MUST BE ONE OF FLO FLO’S FRIENDS!’ said Grand-yeti Clemence as she crawled out from underneath the table. ‘YOU SMELL OF UNICORN FART AND MAGNIFICENCE. I LIKE YOU ALREADY.’

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      ‘I’m Prince Tangine La Floofle the FIRST,’ said Tangine proudly. ‘Friend of Florence and future king of Nocturnia.’

      Grand-yeti Clemence bellowed with laughter. ‘YOUR NAME IS RIDICULOUSLY LONG AND ALSO SOUNDS LIKE FOOD. SO I’M JUST GONNA CALL YOU DAVE. NICE TO MEET YOU, PRINCE DAVE.’

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       DRAW ME LIKE ONE OF YOUR YETIS

      ‘’APPIEST OF BIRFNIGHTS, GRAND-YETI!’ Florence boomed. She pranced over to her Grand-yeti Clemence as if she were as light as a feather. The two yetis turned back to back and bumped their bottoms together over and over and over again . . . until three hundred and fifty bum bumps later, Grand-yeti Clemence pulled Florence into a big fluffy hug.

      ‘OH FLO FLO!’ she laughed. ‘YOU’RE TALLER AND WIDER EVERY TIME I SEE YOU. YOU ARE SUCH A BOLD BEAUTY!’

      Clemence may have been three hundred and fifty years old, but she certainly had BUNDLES of energy, and oodles of style. She was dressed in a pair of colourful baggy trousers and a flowing top and had glittery jewels of all shapes and sizes intertwined