WARNING: a deer is hunted and killed in this chapter. I've marked the beginning of the graphic parts of this chapter with a + sign. If you find this sort of thing upsetting, I recommend stopping at this point and waiting for the next chapter.

Mother of Christ, no one has seen your eyes: how can men pray

Even unto you?

There were only wolves' eyes in the wood -

Charlotte Mew, 'The Fête'

Mr Scoresby?

Someone was calling him. Lee, who was drifting in the betwixt place that is not quite dreaming, was roused by it, and tried to pinpoint the someone.

Mr Scoresby? I've got to go now.

No, not someone – Lyra. She was moving about the clearing. He could hear her feet rustling the leaves of a decade's worth of autumns.

Lyra? He tried to call. Lyra, where are you going?

Hunting. It's time. I'll be back by morning.

Lee heard the pack, moving restless in the confined space, uttering little whimpers of excitement, their energy pressing against him. He tried to open his eyes, sit up, take it in, but he couldn't move.

Lyra, don't go, he said. It's dangerous out there. The hunters…

I'll be careful, she answered.

It was wrong, all wrong, Lyra going out alone, only the wolves to watch over her. Lee struggled to rise, to talk her out of it, but his limbs wouldn't obey him. It was as though they'd been turned into lead, his legs and arms felt so heavy and useless. Even his eyelids felt weighted down, as if the two coins to pay the ferryman had been laid atop them.

I'm going now, Lyra said. Wait here for me.

Hang on – no, Lee cried, and fought with all his tremendous will to rise and follow her. He felt as if he'd been weighed down with chains, but as he thrashed, they seemed to loosen. With a final almighty heave, he broke free and found himself standing in the clearing. The wolves were just vanishing though the tunnel, the golden wolf that was Lyra at the rear.

She disappeared into the dark and Lee ran after her.

Wait up! He called, racing through the passage and out into the starlit night.

He chased after the wolves, tracking them through the woods with ease despite their swiftness. There was enough light to see by, though it lent everything a strange silvery tint. He dodged round a clump of brambles, jumped over a log and espied the pack, which had paused to sniff out prey.

Lyra! Hang on now! He called again, skidding to a halt.

His words alerted the wolves, who turned, ears pricked, to confront the interloper. And then – then. It was though a switch had been thrown and an anbaric current had shocked them. Their ears went back and all of them began snarling, bone-white teeth sharp and merciless. The fur on their necks and shoulders was standing straight up as though from static, and their eyes held nothing but rage and suspicion, a stark contrast from their earlier welcome.

Lee, utterly thrown by the hostility, backed up a few paces, keeping his movements slow. Lyra, where are you?

The small golden wolf he'd seen on that first, fateful night circled from the rear of the pack to stand and stare at him. It was strange, but Lee sensed rather than saw her amazement.

Mr Scoresby?

Yeah, who were you expecting?

Silence descended and held everyone in a strangling grip. Even the woods around them were still and quiet.

Okay, Lee said at last. This is getting a bit worrisome now.

Mr – Mr Scoresby, Lyra said, flummoxed. Why didn't you say?

Lee blinked at her, bewildered in turn. The wolfpack had stopped snarling, but were milling around, twitchy, sharing in the confusion.

Say what? Lee asked at last.

A reddish wolf who wasn't a wolf – Pantalaimon – jogged up to stand beside Lyra. He studied Lee, before sitting down suddenly.

'Lyra, I don't think he knows,' Pan said, shocked.

How could he not? Lyra asked, uttering a whine of frustration.

What am I supposed to know? Lee demanded in exasperation. Hester, help me out here. Hester? Hester? HESTER!

But she wasn't there.

Lee spun in a circle, but his rangy daemon was nowhere. He couldn't see or hear her, and she wasn't answering his calls. His beloved Hester, the darling companion of his heart, was missing.

Lee's world tilted. Without meaning to, he whimpered in fear.

Something brushed against him, and he realised it was Lyra nuzzling against him, trying to comfort him. He stood, rigid with terror, not pulling away but not reciprocating either.

'It's all right, Mr Scoresby,' Pantalaimon said, his voice frenzy overlaid with a veneer of reasonableness. 'Hester will be fine. She'll be back at our den, sleeping with you.'

What? Sleeping with me? What in the screaming hell is happening?! He broke away from Lyra and stood glaring at the wolves, his entire body aching with loneliness, with the utter aloneness and bizarreness of his situation. Lyra, sensing his distress, grasped the nettle.

You've turned into a wolf, Mr Scoresby, she explained, and Pan nodded, a strange thing to see a wolf do. You're a wolfwalker.

The words seemed to echo around his skull. Wolfwalker. You're a wolf, a wolfwalker, wolf…

No, Lee answered, shaking his head. It was a knee-jerk reaction. Denial of something wholly outlandish. I can't be. I'm a man. A human man, with an Arctic hare for a daemon. Till today, I barely even saw a wolf at close quarters –

He broke off, certain things chipping away at his disavowal. The struggle to rise and make his limbs move back in the den. The ease with which he'd chased after Lyra and the wolves. The greyish cast to his surroundings. Even talking to Lyra as he had been doing…

He hadn't heard his voice. He hadn't heard his voice speaking. Nor Lyra's. Just the words, in his mind.

No, he said again, but his certainty was fading like mist in the morning.

Look at yourself, Lyra suggested.

Lee hesitated. Then, counter to Lyra's suggestion, he tried to raise his hands before his face.

He couldn't. His arms wouldn't rise high enough. He did an odd little hop-skip, his arms and hands – which were on the ground, he grasped now – leaving the earth but the joints and muscles not moving as he intended them to. He landed softly, barely making a sound.

This is crazy, he muttered to no-one and everyone, and only then did he look down at his hands.

Except he didn't have hands. Instead of his work-roughened, weather-beaten palms and fingers, he saw two massive, black-furred wolf paws.

Lee tried to lift the left one. It rose obligingly.

He looked back at Lyra. He wanted to curse, demand an explanation, beg to be turned back to a man and reunited with Hester. The words wouldn't come.

Lyra… was all he could say, all his fear and the tiniest glimmer of wonder suffusing her name.

It's all right! She said, nuzzling against him again. It'll be all right. I'll help you. It's my turn to help you, now.

I need to find Hester, Lee murmured. It was the only thing he could do, the only thing he could think. Find his daemon, reunite with her. But then he wondered wildly what Hester would do when she saw him like this. Would she be scared? Disgusted? Flick her ears and remark that 'you can't keep out of trouble for ten minutes, can you, Lee?'

'She's fine. Try not to fret,' Pantalaimon said again. 'You haven't lost her, Mr Scoresby. She's back with your body in the den.'

Pan and I thought we might pull apart when I turned for the first time, Lyra added, trying to reassure him. But we didn't. He's still mine, and I'm his.

The wild wolves, listening to the strange exchange, began to venture closer, inspecting the newcomer. Lee held perfectly still, not wanting to agitate them.

It's all right! Lyra said, and her laugh rang through Lee's mind. Everyone, it's Mr Scoresby. He's a wolfwalker, like me and Father!

The wolves at once began wagging their tails, their excitement palpable. Lee, finally beginning to comprehend the night's events, was relieved at their sudden change of heart. He was as helpless as a new-born lamb, he realised with chagrin. He might be a wolf, something he still didn't quite believe, but he didn't know how to fight as one. If the pack had turned against him, he would've been a goner in five seconds flat.

'We'd better take him back to the den,' Pantalaimon was saying. 'He needs to see his daemon. It won't be safe out here, until he learns to be a wolf.'

But what about the pack, Pan? They haven't hunted properly for two days, they need the meat.

'Let them go by themselves for one night. It's quiet enough –'

Men's voices sounded nearby, making an unwitting liar of the daemon. The words were indistinct, but their mutterings and the snorts and stampings of the horses they rode were ominous.

Hell, Lee muttered, the jarringly familiar noises jolting him from his haze of amazement. Hunters again! We need to get away from here.

River! Lyra cried, and at once the wolves began to swirl round and break into a trot, presumably towards the river.

Mr Scoresby, you got to run with us, she continued. We're going to outrun the hunters, and cross the river, so's they can't track us. Just stay by us, and you'll be fine. The pack will protect you.

Lee hesitated, something he'd hardly ever done in his life.

Hester… he murmured.

I'll take you back to her as soon as it's safe – promise. But we have to go.

Lee heard the earnestness in Lyra's voice. It left deep lacerations on his heart, but he knew he had to do as she said.

Come on then, he answered. You'll have to show me the way.

I will, Lyra said. Now, run as fast as you can. Just don't think too hard about doing it, and you'll be fine.

She took off into the trees, an arrow loosed from a bow.

Lee ran after her.

The wolves were easy to keep sight of. Lee followed Lyra's advice and tried not to think too hard about how he was going on four legs now, or how they were working together. As for the running itself, that was gloriously easy. Lee knew he was moving fast, faster than he ever could as a man, and yet he was barely breathing hard.

His ears were getting pummelled. Sounds flung themselves at him from every direction – the wolves up ahead, owls and other night birds calling, the wind rustling the leaves in the trees, the clop-clop of horses, somewhere behind them. And from up ahead, running water. The river. Salvation.

Down here! Lyra cried, and he saw her just ahead. The wolves had slowed their pace slightly, and within moments he found himself surrounded by them, jostling as they descended a steep culvert towards a broad, fast flowing stretch of water, black as jet save where moonlight glimmered on the ripples.

Lee was bracing himself for the shock of immersion – he'd gone through the ice into brain-freezingly cold water before – but either the thick coat of fur he possessed now or some wolfish hardiness made the water cold but bearable. And it was shallow, too. As the pack splashed its way across, the water came up to his shoulders but no higher.

He looked around for Lyra and was alarmed to see her just managing to keep her head above the water. He hadn't realised just how much larger than her his wolf-form was. But she was fording the river with gusto, and within a couple of minutes they were scrambling onto the opposite bank.

You okay, kid? Lee couldn't help but ask.

I'm fine, I've done that a thousand times, she replied with airy unconcern.

Lee was just about to make some smart-aleck remark in return when the sounds of pursuit – horses at a canter, and the bark of a dog-daemon – sounded from just behind them. Lee paused on the bank to search for their adversaries but was bewildered when he saw nothing on the opposite riverside but the trees and the undergrowth, in various shades of grey and silver.

They're not as close as they sound, Lyra informed him. Your ears are sharper, now. Come on, we need to go before they reach the river.

She turned and ran. Lee ran too, along with a slender wolf he realised was the nameless young male. The wolf kept pace with Lee without any discernible effort, occasionally veering closer to him, or widening the gap between them so that Lee was forced to swerve sideways or alter course to keep his companion in view. Lee realised the wolf was guiding him through the woods, finding the most straightforward route around obstacles and through the trees.

Thanks, pal, he thought, and the wolf did a little leap forward as he ran, evidently sensing Lee's gratitude.

The wolves ran silent through the woodland, and although it was hard to tell how long they ran for, or for what distance, it seemed only a minute or two before Lyra called that's far enough, now.

The wolves slowed and gradually came to a halt in a large clearing, milling around, occasionally uttering a little bark of delight but most showing their exhilaration by leaping around or spinning in circles. The young male came and rubbed his head against Lee's shoulder.

Thanks, he said again. You're a good tracker.

He is, came Lyra's voice. She came into view and butted her head against the young male affectionately. Good work.

Have we escaped then? Lee queried.

We'll have to stay alert, but we've come far enough now that they probably won't be able to catch up, she answered. We're near the southern edge of the woods, so it's farmers we've got to worry about down here. Lots of pasture nearby, but the farmers don't usually bother us unless the wolves kill sheep.

I'm guessing you prevent that, Lee remarked. Lyra grinned, quite literally, her predator's teeth shining.

My father and I do. The wolves are used to it now.

That's more than I am, Lee said, the adrenaline beginning to drain away, leaving him feeling shaky and unsettled. Lyra regarded him with a hunter's eyes.

This has never happened to you before? Really and truly, this is the first time you've become a wolf?

Kid, I swear to you, I've been a man and no more than that my whole life. I don't know what's happened to me, or why it's happened.

'I believe him,' said Pantalaimon, trotting over to stand by Lyra. 'He's had no reason to hide it from us. We would've trusted him much more easily if he'd been another wolfwalker.'

Lyra accepted this with equanimity, which was more than Lee could summon at the moment. He felt… hollow, incomplete, without Hester beside him.

Perhaps I'm dreaming, he murmured to no-one in particular. I've been having some pretty strange dreams about wolves of late. Maybe this is another.

Even as he uttered the words (or thought them), Lee knew they were untrue. He wasn't dreaming. The experience was too vivid for a dream. The coolness of the night air, the smell of petrichor rising up from the ground, the feel of earth and leaves beneath his – well, paws. No, Lee was in a new world, but he was definitely in the world, and not a dreamland.

You're not dreaming, Lyra said gently. It seems like it at first, it's just so – odd. Not what you're used to. But you're here, a wolf. With us. Come with me.

The change in tack was so abrupt Lee took a moment to comprehend her. But when he did, he followed the small golden wolf to where a large puddle was nestled in a dip in the ground. The water was peaceful and undisturbed beneath the trees, a perfect mirror, for Lee guessed at once what Lyra's purpose was.

He crept up on the damn thing like it was going to run away from him. He made it to the rim and looked in.

It was just as in the dream he'd had – hell, the night before this one? It seemed aeons ago. A wolf was looking back at him from the water. It had black fur, the same colour as his hair, and dark eyes that even as a wolf had a sardonic look to them. And it was big. Lee estimated the wolf stood nearly three feet high at the shoulder, and it probably weighed well over a hundred pounds.

That's me? He couldn't help but ask.

A smaller wolf with light fur appeared and stood next to the massive creature.

That's you, Lyra confirmed. I never seen a wolf with such dark fur before. Father's is light brown.

Lee tilted his head. The wolf in the pool did the same.

Cripes, said Lee, staring at his new reflection. He would have liked to use a much stronger word, but there was a child in the vicinity, regardless of what she looked like. He heard her giggle, in his mind.

Then the image in the pool was shattered as the wolfpack converged, plunging their forepaws into the water and lowering their heads to drink. Lee and Lyra retreated a few paces.

Sorry about that, Lyra said. The pack isn't interested in their reflections, they don't understand them.

Leave them to it, Lee sighed. I don't know as I understand it, yet. How did this happen?

I'm not sure, Lyra began, but was interrupted by a bark from Nose-scar. He'd taken his drink and was sniffing a patch of ground intently. The wolves all left the puddle and jogged to stand around him, most of them scenting the ground too.

'They've found a trail,' Pantalaimon said, watching. 'That herd of deer, probably, or they wouldn't be so excited.'

It's going to be tough to pull them away, Lyra murmured. But we need to take Mr Scoresby back –

'Lyra, it would be too dangerous,' Pan interrupted. 'The hunters will be criss-crossing the woods for hours, laying traps and hiding from us. We need to wait.'

The wolves would be willing – well, not willing but they'd do it. And I could keep them quiet –

No, let's stay out and let the pack hunt, Lee broke in. All the wolves, not just Lyra, swung round to stare at him, and all of sudden he was mighty glad he was a wolf and couldn't show any of the strange emotions surging within him on his countenance. If they haven't eaten for a couple of days, it's not fair to force them away – especially not to take one hell of a risk for me.

Lyra hesitated, evidently torn between the desire to hunt and wondering what to do about Lee, a brand-new wolf who knew zero about what he'd turned into and was a furry liability. As Lee had gotten his stupid self into this situation, as usual, he decided to take action regarding it.

Let's go with them, kid, he said. Can't guarantee I'll be much use, but I think I can keep up no problem. We can head back to the den in a few hours, when hopefully the hunters will have called it a night.

'But what about –' Pantalaimon began, and then flinched as Lyra snapped at him. Lee knew what he'd been about to ask.

Hester will wait for me, he said, even as something inside him seemed to crack open and begin bleeding. She's a tough customer. She'll be okay.

Lyra said nothing, but from the way she nuzzled against Pantalaimon in apology, she knew what this course of action was costing Lee.

We'll make it a fast hunt, she said. Come on, Nose-scar will lead the pack.

#

Lee had hunted before. On the Texas prairies, on the tundra, even on the great ice flows of Greenland and Bolvangar. Hunting, in his experience, needed skill, a steady eye, an even steadier hand and vast reserves of patience. Waiting, for the prey, for the opportunity, for a clear shot, was your greatest ability in a hunt.

Wolves didn't bother waiting.

Nose-scar led the pack as Lyra had said he would. He ran through the woods with utter surety, in long loping strides that ate up the miles like fire. Every so often, he would pause to sniff at the ground or a clump of plants while the other wolves clustered round, waiting to scent the trail in their turn.

What is it they're after? Lee asked after the second pause.

Deer, Lyra informed him. That's why they're so excited. Other nights, they have to make do with rabbits, or even mice. Or fish, sometimes.

Hmm, Lee said as they all took off running again. That would explain the smell. It's strong stuff.

It's true – even hanging back, the musk of the deer's tarsal glands was overpowering. Lyra gave a little yip of approval.

That's good, she told him. You need to learn to use your nose. Can you tell where the deer have been? Where they're going?

Lee paused willingly enough to try and distinguish the deer's trail. It was difficult. There was a riot of sensation assailing his nose, his sense of smell grown far beyond human perception. Damp earth, the vegetation ranging from the sharp tang of wild garlic to the sweetness of cow parsley, the stink of what he thought was a fox, the acrid scent of rabbits, the gentle moulder of mast below the trees, the warm animal smell of the pack, fading slightly as they moved away…

It's too much, he gasped, shaking himself out of a trance.

No, it's not, Lyra said firmly. You're just not used to it. Hold on a moment – get the deer's scent, fix it in your mind. Shut your eyes if you have to. We'll catch up with the pack in a minute. Now, find the scent.

Lee shut his eyes obediently, despite feeling a thrice-damned fool at being instructed by a slip of a girl. He let his newly acute nose wander through the woodland, until he homed in on the deer's musk.

Got it, he muttered.

Good, said Lyra. Right, now try to follow it. Which direction does it lead off in? Don't bother trying to follow Nose-scar and the pack, where do you think we should go? Straight ahead? A little to the left?

To the right a bit, Lee answered, opening his eyes. It's strongest that way.

Then let's go!

Lyra took off like a rocket, Pantalaimon at her heels. Lee grinned inwardly and followed at a slightly more sedate pace. But only slightly.

Lee had managed to choose the direction the pack were headed in, and it didn't take long for himself and Lyra to find them, flowing like quicksilver through the woodland. And it wasn't long after that they heard the sound of hoofbeats pounding the forest floor.

The pack has been trailing this deer herd for a few days, Lyra explained to him. To pick a likely target. Rattail and Nose-scar will have a deer in mind by now, and they're all going to help bring it down.

Will they need help? Lee asked.

Not usually. I watch, most of the time. You don't mind blood, do you, Mr Scoresby? It can get a bit… messy.

Lyra, I've seen blood a-plenty and some of it my own. Don't worry about me. Let's speed up and see how they're getting on.

Odd, but he could feel Lyra's approval somehow. They put on a fresh burst of speed and found themselves running alongside Nose-scar, Quill and Towser, as well as the young male who had guided Lee.

The other wolves have gone to separate a deer from the herd, Lyra explained. They'll drive it in this direction if they can, and it will be up to these four to ambush it and bring it down. They don't always manage it, but they'll try.

Lee felt her excitement rising. The wild wolves were engrossed in the trap they were setting, their focus as strong and enhanced as any newly whetted knife. Without any apparent signals they spread themselves out as they jogged along, ears twitching for the faintest sound their prey made, a living, deadly net.

+ The deer came at them, a massive animal, or so it appeared to Lee. It was a buck, judging by its size, as it had shed its antlers as winter receded. He'd always thought of deer as skittish, almost delicate creatures, but now, seeing it running full tilt towards them, its bulk streamlined into a living battering ram, its hooves sharp-edged, its legs muscled and probably able to cripple a wolf with a kick, Lee saw it anew, all its wild power and courage flaring. How could the wolves possibly hope to bring it down?

Even as he thought this, from his and Lyra's vantage point behind the ambush, he saw Nose-scar gather his strength and leap upwards, his pounce perfectly timed. The lead wolf collided with the deer and his jaws closed on the buck's throat.

The other wolves sprang.

Quill went for the deer's muzzle, Towser and Lee's tracker for the flanks. All of them got a firm hold on the deer's hide and ripped open deep wounds, the copper tang of blood tainting the night air.

The deer tried to bellow in pain, but its voice was muffled. Already its legs were folding, weakening as it was suffocated. It still gave battle, heaving its great body about as it tried to shake the wolves off, lashing out with its hind hooves. The wolves hung on grimly, until the young nameless wolf made the mistake of loosening his jaws as he tried to manoeuvre for a better grip.

The buck, sensing its chance, thrashed about and the young wolf went flying. The buck spun round in a circle, and Towser lost his purchase, dropping to the ground with only a mouthful of hide to show for his efforts.

The rest of the pack, led by Rattail, came charging up, and danced around their prey, looking for a chance to strike. Acorn, with more enthusiasm than sense, pounced, collided with the deer's great haunches, and bounced off to land in a patch of vegetation. The deer continued to lash out with its hard hooves, and the wolves hung back, not willing to risk serious injury.

They're losing it, Lyra muttered, and before Lee could respond she darted into the melee, Pantalaimon following.

Hell! Lee cursed, appalled about how petite Lyra appeared in comparison to the deer, certain she was going to get herself injured. He ran after her and found himself in the midst of a group of wolves who were almost raving with the thrill and fear and high stakes of the hunt.

His heart began doing gymnastics anew as he saw Lyra darting about near the deer's flailing hooves. Pantalaimon was doing the same, and in a moment of adrenaline-fuelled clarity Lee realised she was trying to injure its back legs, to take out its most fearsome weapons. She was unable to get near enough, snapping futilely as the deer kicked.

Pantalaimon, not quite as bold as Lyra, shied back from a particularly vicious strike. Lyra, who had also retreated, collided with him – and then yelped as a hoof caught her a glancing blow on the shoulder.

Lee reacted without conscious thought. He went at the deer from the side rather than the rear, lunged and closed his jaw on the deer's leg. He'd been aiming for its thigh, but it moved at the last possible second, and he bit down on its lower leg. He felt himself being shaken like a terrier shakes a rat and clenched his jaws. It was almost a shock to feel the bones snap and his mouth fill with blood.

The deer bellowed in pain, and sank to its knees, knowing that the struggle was ended. Rattail lunged for its throat. Her bite must have severed an artery, for within a few moments the deer lay still.

Lee let go of its leg and turned to find Lyra. She was standing beside him, eyes shining.

That was amazing, Mr Scoresby! She exclaimed. Your first hunt, too!

Are you all right, Lyra? Lee asked, not interested in praise. Looks like you took a hard hit.

I'm fine, Lyra answered, tail wagging. Truly, I am, she added as Lee narrowed his eyes at her. It did hit me hard, but I'm tough as a wolf, it takes a lot to hurt me seriously. I'll be fine when I wake, and if I'm not I'll heal myself. That's another thing I'll have to teach you…

They were interrupted by a bark from Rattail. She and Nose-scar had torn open the deer's belly and were already feasting. The rest of the pack were milling around, panting, eager for their share but deferring to their leaders.

So, what now? Lee asked.

Now, we eat, Lyra said happily. You helped bring down the deer, so we get a share tonight. We'll have our turn once Nose-scar and Rattail have eaten. Er – do you mind raw meat?

Trust me, kid, as far as I'm concerned, venison will be a delicacy – even if it is raw.

Author's Notes: The wolf hunt in this chapter is based upon information from the websites for the International Wolf Centre ( .org) and .org (and countless BBC documentaries). I've tried to make it as accurate as possible, except that it's considerably shorter than usual. In the wild, wolf hunts can go on for hours or even days.

The wolfwalkers and their transformations are based on the beautiful film 'Wolfwalkers' (dir. Tomm Moore and Ross Stewart) and the Irish legends about werewolves the film was based on in turn (the Werewolves of Ossory).

Till next time, dear readers...