‘To the creeper,’ the wasp replied, raising his arms in celebration, to which those around him roared and screamed, baying at the moon like wolves.

Abandoned by the church, the villagers had turned to the creeper, revering it as some kind of deity. Their shepherd couldn’t keep them safe, but they could appease the wolf that threatened to tear their families apart.

‘Are you going to torture us?’ Ben asked. ‘Is that why you brought us back here?’

‘Why would I want to torture you?’ the wasp laughed mockingly.

‘We’ve seen him,’ Ben said, ‘the man over there, in that cottage. We’ve seen what you did to him.’

‘To be chosen is a gift,’ he said, straightening his back, letting his hunch gather around his neck. ‘It is the greatest honour amongst us. Bring him!’ he shouted.

The wasp studied Ben as though he were watching a child tear the wrapping paper from a present, gleefully anticipating their reaction.

The ring of onlookers parted and the tortured man was carried into sight. His wiry arms hung around the shoulders of the two carrying him, so long that his hands reached past their waists. He was naked, with skin white as the broken bones beneath. The man was – with each movement and in every moment – in indescribable agony. Each one of his wounds had been inflicted with care and precision, and he strained to stand without their help.

One of those supporting the tortured pulled back his bandaged head, manhandling him like an animal. The wasp regarded the poor man with curious admiration. He examined his arms from the shoulder to the wrist and seemed strangely satisfied with their horrific length. Then he brought his eyes closer to the fingers, inspecting them one by one. The wasp pressed his palm into the broken hand and then splayed apart his own, comparing them. He was seen to nod his approval.

‘Show me!’ he said, taking a step back.

Another villager withdrew nervously from the circle. He approached the tortured. From what Ben could see, he looked to be cutting staples from the man’s bandages. These were slowly unwound around his head as the horde watched on. The more they were released, the bloodier they became, unravelling deeper and deeper towards his injuries. Such a feeling must have bordered on euphoria – to revel in those senses stolen against his will.

The wasp watched on as the man’s skull steadily shrank to a size more resembling humankind.

‘Now do you understand?’ he exclaimed, standing aside, revealing to Ben and Chloe the truth behind the tortured man who they had, only an hour earlier, tried to save.