2

The little boy bent over me where I lay. I knew I probably should've been scared of him but I somehow wasn't. Even though he was a ghost and everything. Even though he had just told me someone I loved was going to die. It was probably something to do with the fact that he was fading fast- the fact that he was just a whisper now, a tendril of mist, barely blocking my view of the tree- shaded sky above.

Gone.

Ouch.

Was my first coherent thought.

I yawned widely, and then I realized I was waking up.

And I didn't remember going to sleep.

Actually- I didn't remember anything.

Since… Mike.

Yeah. Mike.

Suddenly, it flooded back in an icy tide, and I sat up, tingling. And then I realized I was a boy again. And… ew. My mouth tasted disgusting. But I didn't care.

I changed into a wolf. I changed into a wolf and I could do it again.

These two facts were thrilling and whole inside me. They were glowing, like a talisman against the world. I was back to being human for now, clunky and awkward and weak, but sooner or later, I would learn how to do it. Learn how to become a wolf any time I wanted. And then- and then… I fizzed with excitement, actually jumped to let some of it out. And then I was free to do whatever I wanted for the rest of my life. I jumped and jumped. I jumped up and down on the twiggy forest floor, and let out a yell of joy.

Forest floor.

I looked around. I didn't know how far I had run, but I had woken up in a forest somewhere. Somewhere near the sea. I could smell salt- hear gulls. And I didn't know quite how I had ended up here. For a while there, I knew I'd been… out of it. Not me. But maybe that just happened when you became a wolf. You… became a wolf. Inside your head as well as inside your body. I had the vague impression that this should be worrying to me, but it wasn't. It just wasn't.

I was free.

I lifted a hand to my face. I wanted to feel it, feel the skin that not so long ago had turned to fur. I touched my eyelids, felt the eyeballs beneath swivelling; traced the contours of my nose and…

My mouth. It was crusty with something dry and- I licked my lips- salty.

With a jolt of horror, I realized. Blood. My mouth was crusty with blood. And as for the taste inside my mouth… I gagged, dropped to all fours and spat and spat and spat and spat.

Because it wasn't Bannerman's. This blood tasted good. Horrific as it was, I had enjoyed this taste, I had loved it. Please please please oh god tell me I didn't kill someone.

And then- another fact hit me.

This blood is not human blood, but rabbit blood.

I let out a shaky sigh, and a wide grin spread across my face. I didn't know how I knew. I knew it like I knew that the day was cold, and that I was near the sea. And yes it was freaky- that I'd hunted, killed and eaten a rabbit. But compared to having hunted, killed and eaten a person, it was nothing. Such a nothing that I couldn't stop giggling. I was on my knees, in the middle of some wood by the sea, laughing my head off. Oh- and covered in blood. I imagined what an unfortunate hiker would do, if they stumbled across me, and the thought made me laugh even harder. They'd be wetting themselves.

I stayed like that for a while. Eventually, though, I ran out of laughs. That's when I started trying to get the blood off. I knew, much as I detested it, I had to get back to the kid's home. For one thing, I had to let Mike know I was OK. I ran a hand through my hair. It was gluey- matted. How long had I been out here? He'd be panicking. He'd think that they'd found me; put me down for attacking Bannerman. I looked around me for further clues of where I was.

I realized the wood was not just near the sea- it was on the clifftop. I could faintly discern the washing of waves far below, mingled with the screaming of the gulls. But where was I?

I rocked back on my heels and closed my eyes, listening. Scenting. I seemed to feel the low buzz of human-life before I heard it, and then I became aware of voices, electricity and cars. Over the smell of salt, I picked up… exhaust fumes. Fish and chips. Something sweet… chocolate! My stomach twisted angrily and I realized just how hungry I was. The rabbit I'd eaten last must have died the death quite a while ago.

So I might as well follow the sounds and follow the scents and get myself cleaned up and get myself something to eat.

I walked in what I knew was the right direction and as I did so I shoved my hands deep into my pockets. There was no money there- I had not expected there to be. That was fine.

It was a five minute walk before I emerged on the edge of a small village. Along the way I had scraped most of the dried blood off of my face, but I knew it wouldn't be enough. As I spotted a woman and a dog further along the road, I flipped up the hood on my hoodie, hiding my face from view. I realized I looked like a hooligan, but it was better than looking like someone who eats live rabbits when he feels like it.

The village was tiny- just a twisty road really, but bordered on either side by many squat white-washed cottages and a few shops. There were a number of gift-shops, a newsagent, a general store and a chocolate parlour, and furthest away, smelling golden as my stomach twisted again; a fish and chip shop, glass-fronted, fuggy with the heat from the kitchen and complete with little tables with red and white checkered table-clothes. My stomach growled as I went over to it and glanced inside, pretending to check the menu. There was only one other person in there; an old guy drinking tea in the corner. At the far end of the room, a tiny communal lavatory stood ajar.

I went inside.

The door tinkled merrily as I went in. The sound jarred as I let it fall back on itself.

A jolly-looking woman looked up from behind the counter. When she spoke her words were layered with a thick Cornish accent.

'Can I help you, love?'

'Yeah', I said,' I'd like… um… some chips please'.

'Anything else?'

'Ketchup'.

She pushed a bottle across the counter towards me.

'Thanks', I said,' and could I please wash up first? Because… me and my dad we're camping in the woods and I've gotten pretty dirty…' The lies just came out, and they sounded like the truth. I was quite proud of myself. She didn't look the slightest bit sceptical. Not in the slightest bit.

'Not at all', she motioned towards the toilet door, stood ajar at the end of the counter.

'Thanks'.

I pushed my way inside and locked it. It was tiny, like a toilet on an aeroplane. I sat down on the seat and when I twisted I could reach the sink and the mirror above it.

I had got rid of most of the dry blood on the way here, but my mouth was still rimmed with a faint trace of rusty brown. I ran some water and splashed it over the lower half of my face, rubbing hard with my hands. I squirted a bit of soap into one hand and repeated the movement, scrubbing until all trace of blood was gone. I inspected the rest of my face. It was looking surprisingly clean, considering. I picked at the dirt that had become lodged beneath my fingernails, and then washed my hands with more of the soap. The smell of it was lavender, rising like a warming steam and I felt myself calm. I didn't realize how knotted I'd been, how clenched, until it went away.

I stared at myself in the mirror. OK, so my hair needed a wash, but I had been camping with my dad for a week after all. I was bound to look a little grubby. But that was OK, we were going home tomorrow.

I straightened up and went back into the main café.

'Good timing!' said the Cornish woman,' yours is just ready!'

She had placed on the counter a plate of freshly made chips, still hot from the fat fryer.

'Thankyou so much', I whispered, as my stomach attempted to leap out of mouth in a bid to reach the food.

Pausing only to add ketchup, I took the seat nearest the counter and started wolfing down the chips. I felt the eyes of the old man and the cornish woman on me, but I didn't care. It must have been the wolf thing. It must really take it out of you. Because I had felt faint from hunger.

'Easy there!' exclaimed the Cornish woman,' give yourself stomach ache, eating it that fast!'

I slowed down a little,' sorry'.

'Don't apologize son, just concerned, that's all'.

I slowed to normal speed. Now that the yearning hunger had been abated, I wanted to savour these. They were the best chips I'd ever tasted.

'So you're camping with your father, then?' said the Cornish woman conversationally.

I nodded,' out in the woods'.

She nodded with me and began drying a plate with a tea towel emblazoned with the words, "Cornwall- land of timeless mystery."

'I didn't think you were from the school. Haven't seen you around before and anyway you're not wearing the uniform'.

I paused, chip halfway to mouth,' school?'

'The college, down by the cliffs. It's like a… specialist school, right, Ted?'

At first I didn't know who she was talking to, then the old man replied,' aye. None of 'em Polgammon kids get to go there'.

'It's for gifted kids. Y'know. Kid's who are extremely clever'.

I had a feeling that for some reason they disliked talking about this "specialist college", so I changed the subject.

'Do you know where the nearest town is? Because me and my dad thought we might catch the train home tomorrow'.

'Ah', said the Cornish woman, fumbling under the counter for something. She pulled it out with a flourish. It was a fold-up map of Cornwall,' here'.

She spread it on the counter and, swallowing my last chip, I went up and looked at it. She was pointing at a tiny dot labelled, "Polgammon".

'We're here', she said, and then traced her finger roughly Northwards on the map, about an inch,' and… that's the nearest town'.

She was pointing to a considerably larger dot further up the coast labelled, "Perranporth".

Breifly, I memorized the position. It was about half a mile away, quick a hike, and all of it through woodland. Still- if I concentrated hard I might be able to change to the wolf again, and that would shorten the journey considerably.

Having eaten, washed and discovered through my simply outstanding skills of detection that I was in Cornwall, it was time to leave.

'OK. I'm done', I said. I felt a familiar clench of mingled anticipation and fear as she typed it into her cash machine.

'That'll be two pounds seventy sweetheart'.

The sweetheart made me wince inside. Made me feel pretty bad, in fact.

'Oh', I said.

And legged it.