She didn’t see Billy or the wolf, but they were right beside her.

And Billy sniffed. Sniffed the air round the sweet bald pink head of his Grandpappy and knew that he was okay. He knew his Mom and Dad would get a call tomorrow to say don’t come, he’s better, it’s all okay. Billy put a hand that felt like a hand but looked like a paw, on his Grandma’s lap and left it there for a few minutes, hoping to comfort her, the way she so often comforted him after a fall or a disappointment. And then it had been time to go. They had run back to Silver and when Billy woke up with the phone ringing he had known it was true.

His Mom had come into the bedroom and sat on the edge of his bed. ‘Grandpappy’s better, sweetpie. He’s sitting up and moaning about Grandma’s coffee right now.’

He loved to see his Mom all smiles and joy like that, and he had snuggled back into his pillow with satisfaction as she’d kissed him on the cheek. He had wanted to tell her what he’d seen, tell her what Grandma had been wearing, that he knew all along. But he hadn’t. The wolf was a good friend. But he was a private night-time friend.

His daytime friend was Bart. But even Bart wasn’t helping right now. Billy Hunt was on edge. Lately the wolf hadn’t been coming. Not since it had said something bad was going to happen and Bart would be Billy’s only friend. It frightened him. Especially since his Dad had been acting strange too.

Billy thought his Dad was excellent. He was a gas. Sometimes he would make Billy laugh so much that tears rolled down his cheeks and his sides would ache like he had a charley-horse. And he was tough too, even when Billy didn’t really understand what was going on.