Gary turned over in his sleeping bag and looked at his watch. 11.00pm. He glanced over at the sleeping bag next to him, at Matt’s huddled form. His new tent mate. They’d swapped the sleeping arrangements around tonight without even asking him if he was okay with it, of course. Just so poor old Tramper wouldn’t feel scared and he could cosy up next to big, strong Tom. Fucking pathetic. Now Gary was stuck with Matt, who’d barely said a word since they finished dinner and climbed into their sleeping bags. And what was it that Matt had muttered to him earlier that afternoon, after Tom had split his lip?

You take it too far sometimes, Gary.

As if he was the one who’d punched someone.

Fucking Matt. Fucking Tramper. Fucking Tom.

All he’d done was wind James up a bit about that fucking Emily Brown story, that was all. He knew James had been spooked by the story, and all he’d wanted to do was have a bit of fun with him.

He’d kept it up throughout the day, walking alongside James and telling him a few details he’d thought up that morning while they were packing away their tents. Just stupid stuff. He told James to keep an eye out for a lady in a white dress – he said that was what people were reported to have seen when they were out on the moor at night – and to let Gary know if he saw any dead animals.

‘Apparently that’s what people see, before they go missing,’ he’d said. ‘Sometimes it’s rabbits or crows, sometimes something bigger, like a fox.’

James had looked at him with wary eyes – they’d been walking for eight miles or so by that point and they’d already climbed two tors – and Gary could tell that even though he was tired he was scared, too. That was good. Gary’d come clean in the end and they’d all have a laugh about it – James always laughed at Gary’s jokes, that was why Gary liked hanging out with him – but for now he wanted James to be scared so that he could pull off what he was planning.

‘Yep, that’s right,’ Gary had continued. He did his best to keep his voice soft and serious. ‘That’s how it starts. You’re walking across the moor and all of a sudden you see a foot or an ear in the bracken, and then it’s a trail of intestines and you suddenly realise you’re standing in the middle of a stone circle.

‘You look down and you’re in the middle of this ring of stones with this dead rabbit lying next to you, and then you’ve walked right into the trap. Her trap.’