But despite the fact I knew he’d lied to me I still held those trips into the wood close to my heart and I was thinking about them when I went back to the house this morning. Thinking about being a kid and the times we’d had gave me a warm feeling inside. I had to hold on to that if I was to give him another chance, that was what I was telling myself as I made my way up the path towards the house. There had to be a reason why he’d lied about the dead mother in the desert. And there had to be a reason why he’d locked me in that room. He’d never let me down before. We’d been a good team. I’d never forget how proud he was when I made my first kill. And he could be kind too. If I was poorly he’d make soup and put cold flannels on my forehead and sing me my favourite song about old Stewball the racehorse who never drank water, but only drank wine.

I started humming that song to myself as I walked round the back of the house. He was always in the kitchen making scran at that time of the morning so that was where I was heading. I was singing that song and I was happy and I was ready to forgive him. The racehorse’s bridle was silver, his mane was gold and all was right with the world. That’s how it felt. The world was a good place to be. Until I turned the corner and saw her lying there on the grass.

Her beautiful eyes were wide open and facing the sky. Her right leg was bloody and mangled where the trap had got her. My vixen.

I started to scream and the noise I made was like the ram we found one day who’d got its horns caught in the briars. It was snorting and raging and scraping its hooves on the ground. It was ready to kill in order to set itself free.

I carried on screaming as I ran up the steps and pushed the kitchen door open. He wasn’t in there and there was no smell of cooking. I guessed he must still be in bed but then I heard snoring coming from the parlour. I stormed in there and saw him lying slumped in my gran’s old armchair, an empty tankard hanging from his hand.

And I knew in that moment what I had to do. I ran out of the house and went straight to the outbuilding and grabbed my gun. I was going to need it now. Then I slung it over my shoulder and made my way to the village. A couple of old ladies gave me funny looks as I marched past the Post Office but I didn’t care. I was free now. With my vixen gone there was only one friend left and I couldn’t lose her. I just couldn’t.