A Llama Called Lightning

illustrated by ELLIE SNOWDON

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FOR OLDER READERS: The Secret Hen House Theatre The Farm Beneath the Water Evie’s Ghost Anna at War Friends and Traitors

For Isabella H. P.

For Nims E. S.

First published in the UK in 2024 by Nosy Crow Ltd Wheat Wharf, 27a Shad Thames, London, SE1 2XZ, UK Nosy Crow Eireann Ltd 44 Orchard Grove, Kenmare, Co Kerry,V93 FY22, Ireland Nosy Crow and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Nosy Crow Ltd Text copyright © Helen Peters, 2024 Cover and illustrations copyright © Ellie Snowdon, 2024 The right of Helen Peters and Ellie Snowdon to be identified as the author and illustrator respectively of this work has been asserted by them in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved ISBN: 978 1 83994 872 5 A CIP catalogue record for this book will be available from the British Library.

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, hired out or otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of Nosy Crow Ltd. The publisher and copyright holders prohibit the use of either text or illustrations to develop any generative machine learning artificial intelligence (AI) models or related technologies.

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The Lonely Llama One Friday afternoon in March, Jasmine and her best friend Tom walked home from school along Half Mile Lane. They didn’t usually walk this way, but Jasmine was trying to catch a criminal today, and she needed to check something out.

Her parents had received a message from the Farm Crime Network, saying that thieves had stolen tools and equipment from a local farm.

The farmer had seen a dark-blue Ford Ranger truck driving away, and he had noted down the first part of the registration number.

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“Mum and Dad won’t listen to me,” Jasmine told Tom, as they walked along the lane, “but I’m sure that’s Mr Sansom’s truck. They’ll be grateful when he gets arrested and we don’t have anything stolen from our farm.”

As they approached Mr Sansom’s house, Tom pointed to a truck parked outside a shed.

“You were right!” he said excitedly.

“It’s a Ford Ranger!”

They looked around to check no one was watching, and then they walked towards the dirty truck. It was hard to see the registration plate beneath the grime. Tom rubbed some of the dirt away with a tissue. Jasmine took a notebook out of her pocket and checked the details.

“Oh,” she said, disappointed. “It’s a different registration.”

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“And it’s dark grey, not blue,” said Tom, wiping a patch of paintwork. “Not that you could tell under all that dirt,” he added loyally.

“And it was good to check.”

Jasmine crossed out Mr Sansom’s name in her notebook. “We’ll just have to keep looking,” she said.

As they turned a corner, she scanned the fields that bordered the lane, looking for animals.

Suddenly she stared in amazement.

“Look!” she said, pointing.

At the far end of the field next to the lane, there was a gate leading into another field. And over the bars of the gate, an animal Jasmine had never seen in real life stared back at her.

Tom’s eyes widened. “A llama! Or is it an alpaca?”

“I’m pretty sure it’s a llama,” Jasmine said.

“Let’s go and look.”

She stood on the gate and scanned the first field to see if anyone was around. It was empty.

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They climbed over the gate, crossed to the far side and looked into the next field.

“It’s so beautiful!” said Jasmine.

The animal swivelled its ears at the sound. It had a long neck and a thick fluffy coat. Its head and neck were cream-coloured, darkening to a pale golden brown on its body and legs.

“It’s definitely a llama,” Jasmine said. “Alpacas are smaller, and they have much smaller ears.

Llamas have longer faces, and those lovely banana-shaped ears.”

“Such a cute face,” said Tom. “It looks like it’s smiling.”

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The llama stretched up and nibbled at a hazel tree.

“Come here, llama,” Jasmine called. “Come and see us.”

“I wonder who it belongs to,” Tom said.

“Maybe the people in that house,” said Jasmine, pointing to a big house with a neat garden next to the field. “They can’t be very good owners. He must be lonely with no other animals around, poor thing. And look, his coat’s all matted, and there’s burrs and things caught in it. He looks neglected.”

Jasmine pulled up a handful of long grass 5

and held it out over the gate. “Here you are, llama! Lovely fresh grass!”

The llama looked at her, but he stayed where he was. Jasmine climbed over the gate and walked slowly towards him, holding out the grass. As she drew close, he raised his chin, flattened his ears back and blew out air with a “pfffffpth” sound.

Jasmine lowered her eyes and backed away. She knew enough about animals to recognise their warning signs.

She climbed back over the gate. They talked to the llama and he swivelled his ears and looked at them, but he didn’t come any closer.

“He’s a bit shy, I think,” Jasmine said. “But he definitely likes us.”

“We should find out what treats llamas like and come back with some,” Tom said. “We could visit him again tomorrow morning.”

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“Yes, let’s do that,” Jasmine said. “He looks clever, doesn’t he? He must be so bored with no other animals for company.”

They said goodbye to the llama and set off for Oak Tree Farm, where Tom was coming for tea with Jasmine. While they walked, they discussed their plans for the weekend. On Saturday they were going to walk Jasmine’s donkey, Mistletoe, to the retirement home in the village and visit his former owner, Mr Hobson.

“And maybe Mr Hobson can visit the farm when the lambs are born,” Jasmine said. “He loves the lambs.”

“When are the first ones due?” Tom asked.

“Any day now,” Jasmine said. “I can’t wait.

Dad’s worried about dogs though. There was a thing on the news last night about out-ofcontrol dogs chasing sheep.”

“The owners should be reported on that Farm Crime Network,” Tom said. “Then we could track them down as well as the thieves.”

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As they walked along the farm track, they saw Jasmine’s brother Manu and his best friend Ben playing football in the farmyard. Manu placed the ball on the ground to take a penalty.

Then he kicked it into the makeshift goal.

“YESSS!” he yelled, racing madly round the yard with his arms in the air.

“Honestly,” said Jasmine, rolling her eyes.

Manu finished his celebration and saw Jasmine and Tom coming into the yard. “Hey, did you see my—” he began. Then he stopped abruptly, staring with huge eyes at something behind them. “Where did you get that?”

“What?” asked Jasmine. She turned to see what Manu was looking at. And a large fluffy llama with a smiling face gazed straight back at her.

“Oh!” she cried. “He’s followed us home!”

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A Llama in the Yard The llama walked elegantly down the farm track, looking about him curiously. He spotted the big patch of brambles at the entrance to the yard and bent his long neck to nibble at the leaves. Jasmine stared at him in astonishment.

Manu and Ben were grinning in delight.

Tom looked worried. “How did he follow us?

Did we not shut the gate?”

“We didn’t even open the gate,” Jasmine said.

“He must have got out another way.”

At that moment, her dad, Michael, walked into 9

the yard from the lambing barn, where he was setting up the pens ready to bring in the pregnant ewes from the field. He saw the llama and his mouth fell open.

“What on earth…?!” He turned to his daughter. “Jasmine? What have you done?”

“Nothing!” Jasmine protested. “We talked to him in his field and he must have followed us home. We didn’t even know until Manu saw him.”

“So you left the gate open?”

“We didn’t touch the gate! He must have escaped.”

The llama lifted his head and walked across the yard in a dignified manner.

“Look at his tail,” said Ben. “It’s like a woolly pompom.”

The llama stopped in front of a tall tree, reached up and clamped his lips around the top of a young branch. Then he whisked his head sharply to the side, neatly stripping every leaf 10

from the branch.

He turned from the tree, a bunch of leaves sticking out of his mouth, and started happily munching them.

Jasmine watched in admiration. “He looks so at home, doesn’t he?” she said. “He really likes it here.”

Dad gave her a stern look. “Who does he belong to?”

Jasmine was about to say she didn’t know when she saw her mum’s car coming up the track. Worried that the car would spook the llama, Jasmine hurried towards it and signalled for Nadia to stop.

Mum braked and opened her window, looking alarmed.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Nothing,” Jasmine said. “I just didn’t want the car to frighten the llama.”

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Mum stared at her. “Frighten the what?”

“There’s a llama in the yard. He followed us home.”

“A llama followed you home? From where?”

Mum shook her head as though trying to wake herself from a dream. “Wait a minute.”

She parked at the side of the track, and Jasmine filled her in on the details as they walked. When they got to the yard, the llama was nibbling at the hedge.

“Oh, isn’t he gorgeous!” Mum said. “What a

beautiful creature.” Nadia was a vet, so she was always interested in seeing different animals.

Jasmine looked at her mum hopefully. “He seems to really like it here, doesn’t he?”

Manu approached the llama, holding out a bunch of long grass.

“Don’t go too close,” Jasmine said. “In case he spits.”

“I’d like to see him spit,” said Manu.

“You wouldn’t,” Mum said. “Llama spit is actually regurgitated stomach contents.”

“Ugh!” said Tom. “Cool!” said Manu.

Dad came to stand next to them. “Any idea who he belongs to?” he asked. As Mum was a farm vet, she knew most of the large-animal owners in the area.

“I’m pretty sure he’s Nigel Bentley’s,” Nadia said. “Someone told me a while ago he’d got a llama, and he lives near Half Mile Lane.”

“He’s friends with the Gordons, isn’t he?” said Dad. “I’ll get hold of his number and he can come and collect it.” He started typing a message on his phone.

“Unless,” said Jasmine, trying her luck, “he doesn’t want the llama any more.”

“Don’t start, Jasmine,” said Dad. “But he looked so lonely in his field with no companions,” Jasmine said, turning to her mum in the hope that she’d be more sympathetic.

“And he escaped and followed us home! So he must want to be with us. Look how dirty and 14

matted his coat is. He’s clearly not being well looked after. I think he recognised that we’d care for him better than Nigel Bentley does.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Dad said. His phone pinged and he looked at the screen. “Right, I’ve got his number. I’ll give him a call.”

He walked across the yard. Jasmine’s tame duck, Button, came waddling towards her, quacking loudly.

Jasmine scooped him into her arms and stroked his glossy feathers. “You’d like a llama friend, wouldn’t you, Button?”

Button quacked.

“Can we ride the llama?” Manu asked.

“Definitely not,” said Jasmine. “Remember what happened when you tried to ride Mistletoe.”

“What a cheek!” said Dad, striding back towards them. “Nigel Bentley says he can’t collect it, and the children must have let it out 15

of the field, so it’s our responsibility to take it back.”

“We didn’t let him out!” Jasmine said. “Tell them, Tom!” “We didn’t even open the gate,” Tom said. “He must have escaped.”

“Nigel said he’s never escaped before,” Dad said.

“Llamas do tend to respect boundaries,” Mum said. “But they can jump gates if they want to.”

“Well, I’m going to take him back,” said Dad. “I’ll need a hand loading him.”

“We’ll come with you,” Jasmine said. “I want to see if Nigel Bentley’s fit to own a llama.”

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