The hawthorn scratched at me from the outside, my heart thumped at me from the inside.

I ignored them both.

I pushed the whole way through.

Maggie Cruise – boundary breaker.

I stood up on the other side.

Brighter, fresher grass. The smell of crisp, red apples.

My knees jittered.

“I, um, I…” Words floundered around in my mouth.

No one ever went outside the town. No one except the mayor. And the eldests, of course, on their way to camp.

It puts the whole of Fennis Wick in danger.

This was a bad idea.

“I think maybe I should just go home.” I stepped backwards. There must be another way to catch a wanderer.

“You can’t!” said Una. “You’ve done the hardest bit. Come on, it’s this way.”

She turned towards the forest, looked back at me and lifted her elbow out to the side.

Did she want me to link my arm into hers?

Like friends?

No one ever wanted to link arms with me before. Not ever.

“C’mon.” She wiggled her elbow.

I slipped my arm through.

Her skin was warm with dirt and sunshine. She smelled of trees and unwashed hair.

I glanced behind me, back towards Fennis Wick.

No one’s seen me. No one knows.

I walked beside her, through the brighter, fresher grass.

Maybe Una wasn’t like other wanderers.

I mean, she couldn’t have killed Mr Wetheral’s family. She was too young. And she wouldn’t have anyway. She just wouldn’t have.

Maybe she wasn’t dangerous or deceitful at all. And being dirty, well, that wasn’t such a bad thing, was it?

And if she’d lost her mum, and her grandad and her brother, well, that was terrible. Really terrible.

“Did you really have a brother who went to camp?” I said.

“Course,” she said. “Did you think I was lying? I’d never lie to you, Maggie. We’re best friends, aren’t we?”

Best friends.

I’d never had a best friend. Not in my whole life.

She grinned her gappy grin. The long grass brushed against my legs.

She squeezed my arm in hers.

Best friends.

I touched the front of Grandad Cruise’s watch.

The forest started off as just a few trees dotted around, but it soon got thicker and we had to let go arms. Una trotted doe-like between branches, ferns and moss, even in her wellies. I stumbled after her, trying to tread in her footsteps. There wasn’t any path.

“How do you remember the way?” I said.

“S’easy. I follow the marks. Look here, on this tree.” She pointed to some chalk marks on a tree trunk. Three slanted lines. I’d never have seen them if she hadn’t shown me.

“This means carry on in that direction, see? Like this?” She held her hand underneath them, slanting upwards, palm face down, just like the lines. “So that way’s home.”