Anyway, I’m going off on one, as Sarge says. Talking about foxes when I should be making a record of the very important thing that happened.

It went like this:

After I heard the foxes we walked on another few metres, into the deepest part of the woods. Sarge was up ahead, then he stopped suddenly, turned to me and raised his gun. Just a tiny bit, but enough so I could see.

His face was all pearly white in the moonlight and his eyes were fixed on me.

‘Ready?’ he said.

I wasn’t ready. I was terrified. My legs felt all wobbly and I thought I was going to be sick. Sarge knows me better than I know myself and he could see I was scared. He lowered the gun and walked very slowly towards me.

Then he placed the gun on the ground and knelt down in front of me. His face looked softer.

‘Look at the sky,’ he said. ‘What do you see?’

I did as I was told. A white circle hovered above the woods like a giant face.

‘All I can see is the moon,’ I said.

‘That’s right,’ said Sarge. ‘The moon. And do you know something?’

His voice was so quiet I had to lean in to hear.

‘The moon isn’t afraid,’ he said. ‘Do you see?’

I’d never really thought about the moon having any kind of feelings but I nodded my head.

‘That moon up there,’ he said, looking up at the sky, ‘it keeps beaming its light, stronger and brighter, even though it’s out there all alone in that vast sky. Do you understand?’

‘I think so,’ I said.

‘You’ve got to be like the moon,’ he said, picking the gun up from the ground and handing it to me. ‘You’ve got to be strong and bright and brave.’

I took the gun in my hands.

‘Now,’ he said, getting to his feet. ‘I’ll ask again. Are you ready?’

‘I’m ready,’ I replied. But my legs were shaking.

‘Keep your nerve,’ he said. ‘And remember what I told you.’

The dark was lifting as we walked on and I had to blink so my eyes could get used to the speckly light. I could sense Sarge walking behind me steadily but I kept my eyes to the ground, watching for movement. My ears felt like they had been carved open. Every noise, even just the snap of a twig or a flutter of wings in the trees above me, sounded like an explosion.

Sarge and I know the layout of the wood so well we could walk through it with our eyes closed. But this morning everything looked different. Or maybe it was me who had changed. Sarge says eleven is a good age, the age when you see the world for what it is.

And what I saw in that moment was our target.

She appeared from nowhere. She had a plump body with dirty brown hair and her eyes were black. She looked up at me. I stopped. Deadly still. Behind me I heard Sarge take a breath. He didn’t speak but I heard his voice in my head telling me what to do.