chair. He leant back with weary relief.
"Can you talk, Tom?" the boy
said gently.
Tom looked into his eyes and
very gradually, as if the memories were filtering back from some
remote tract, a name stole into his head. "Jack," he uttered, his
voice hoarse.
"You'll be all right now," his
friend told him kneeling down and over his shoulder a large black
and white face appeared, dark eyes intent.
"You were lucky, Tom," the
badger declared.
Tom shook his head, trying to
clear his thoughts. "What happened?" he whispered.
"Can't you remember anything?"
Jack asked.
Tom shook his head. "I'm
not sure. I think it was the paintings. I was inside them!" He waved a hand at the wall, not
daring to look again.
"You have nothing to fear from
them now," reassured the badger, leaning close. "It is
only the Wolf that we all must
fear. It is the enemy."
"So what happened?" questioned
Jack, looking intently at the animal, wanting answers.
"It was an assault on Tom’s
senses, perhaps no more than a test to see what the opposition are
made of. But one thing is certain, the Wolf will come again. You
can be sure of that. It will come for us all."
Jack gazed grimly at his
friend. “Opposition? Then it knows about us then?” He said this
with a visible shudder.
Mo chuckled softly, although
the sound was harsh and cold. “It knows. And this is only the
beginning.”
"I'm tired," said Tom after a
moment of uncomfortable silence, half closing his eyes, his
features worn and pale.
"Get some sleep," Mo advised
him. "We must travel again soon."
Another dream, thought Tom,
shifting uneasily in his half-sleep. Or was it?
In this strange land, nothing
was certain. He believed he was beneath a large chestnut tree, its
branches a canopy above him. He ate a cheese and tomato sandwich,
the taste bland in his mouth. Perhaps it was only a dream after
all.
But the sun shone brightly and
he could feel it upon his face and Tom looked up into a cloudless
sky, taking a deep breath. Nothing like the countryside, better
than the built-up cities with their litter and pollution. Beneath
the chestnut tree all was as it should be, the land untouched and
he felt at peace with himself.
A rustling in a nearby bush
caught his attention and abruptly a lamb came rushing through the
undergrowth. Tom shot to his feet in surprise and the creature came
to a sudden halt a few feet away, staring at him.
"I won't hurt you," Tom offered
as gently as he could, but the lamb only started at the sound of
his voice and ran off again. It clambered over a small bank and
disappeared.
Why are
animals so afraid? he found himself
wondering.
Just as he was pondering this
question there was another disturbance in the undergrowth and Tom
thought that maybe the animal had returned. Then, pushing through
the thicket of leaves, a girl appeared. She wore a bonnet and a
long cape around her shoulders and carried a hooked staff.
Steadying herself, she regarded
Tom with an unnerving gaze.
"Hello," he mumbled, a bit
embarrassed but not really knowing why.
The girl smiled at him and he
found himself thinking how pretty she was. "Hello," she
returned.
Now Tom was at a loss for
words.
"Have you seen my sheep?" she
asked.
"Eh, sheep?" began Tom,
struggling to gain his composure. "Oh yes, I did see a lamb, just a
minute ago."
The girl smiled again or
perhaps, thought Tom oddly, she had never stopped smiling. "Could
you tell me which way the little one went?"
Tom looked into her eyes and
decided they were the most beautiful things he had ever seen. They
were like pools of shining light. "I, er," he fumbled, getting a
grip on himself. "I think it went that way." He pointed vaguely in
the direction of the bank.
The girl took one step toward
him and then stopped.
Tom couldn't breath as he
stared at her, his throat tightening, his mouth dry. She really was
the prettiest girl he had ever seen, he decided.
Putting her hand to her lips,
she blew him a kiss. "Thank you, Tom," she said,
"Can you talk, Tom?" the boy
said gently.
Tom looked into his eyes and
very gradually, as if the memories were filtering back from some
remote tract, a name stole into his head. "Jack," he uttered, his
voice hoarse.
"You'll be all right now," his
friend told him kneeling down and over his shoulder a large black
and white face appeared, dark eyes intent.
"You were lucky, Tom," the
badger declared.
Tom shook his head, trying to
clear his thoughts. "What happened?" he whispered.
"Can't you remember anything?"
Jack asked.
Tom shook his head. "I'm
not sure. I think it was the paintings. I was inside them!" He waved a hand at the wall, not
daring to look again.
"You have nothing to fear from
them now," reassured the badger, leaning close. "It is
only the Wolf that we all must
fear. It is the enemy."
"So what happened?" questioned
Jack, looking intently at the animal, wanting answers.
"It was an assault on Tom’s
senses, perhaps no more than a test to see what the opposition are
made of. But one thing is certain, the Wolf will come again. You
can be sure of that. It will come for us all."
Jack gazed grimly at his
friend. “Opposition? Then it knows about us then?” He said this
with a visible shudder.
Mo chuckled softly, although
the sound was harsh and cold. “It knows. And this is only the
beginning.”
"I'm tired," said Tom after a
moment of uncomfortable silence, half closing his eyes, his
features worn and pale.
"Get some sleep," Mo advised
him. "We must travel again soon."
Another dream, thought Tom,
shifting uneasily in his half-sleep. Or was it?
In this strange land, nothing
was certain. He believed he was beneath a large chestnut tree, its
branches a canopy above him. He ate a cheese and tomato sandwich,
the taste bland in his mouth. Perhaps it was only a dream after
all.
But the sun shone brightly and
he could feel it upon his face and Tom looked up into a cloudless
sky, taking a deep breath. Nothing like the countryside, better
than the built-up cities with their litter and pollution. Beneath
the chestnut tree all was as it should be, the land untouched and
he felt at peace with himself.
A rustling in a nearby bush
caught his attention and abruptly a lamb came rushing through the
undergrowth. Tom shot to his feet in surprise and the creature came
to a sudden halt a few feet away, staring at him.
"I won't hurt you," Tom offered
as gently as he could, but the lamb only started at the sound of
his voice and ran off again. It clambered over a small bank and
disappeared.
Why are
animals so afraid? he found himself
wondering.
Just as he was pondering this
question there was another disturbance in the undergrowth and Tom
thought that maybe the animal had returned. Then, pushing through
the thicket of leaves, a girl appeared. She wore a bonnet and a
long cape around her shoulders and carried a hooked staff.
Steadying herself, she regarded
Tom with an unnerving gaze.
"Hello," he mumbled, a bit
embarrassed but not really knowing why.
The girl smiled at him and he
found himself thinking how pretty she was. "Hello," she
returned.
Now Tom was at a loss for
words.
"Have you seen my sheep?" she
asked.
"Eh, sheep?" began Tom,
struggling to gain his composure. "Oh yes, I did see a lamb, just a
minute ago."
The girl smiled again or
perhaps, thought Tom oddly, she had never stopped smiling. "Could
you tell me which way the little one went?"
Tom looked into her eyes and
decided they were the most beautiful things he had ever seen. They
were like pools of shining light. "I, er," he fumbled, getting a
grip on himself. "I think it went that way." He pointed vaguely in
the direction of the bank.
The girl took one step toward
him and then stopped.
Tom couldn't breath as he
stared at her, his throat tightening, his mouth dry. She really was
the prettiest girl he had ever seen, he decided.
Putting her hand to her lips,
she blew him a kiss. "Thank you, Tom," she said,
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