It’s OK. It’s OK, I tell myself. I’ve read stuff about wolves. Wolves only attack people really really rarely. I’ve definitely read that in The Wild; you’ve got less chance of being attacked by a wolf than of being hit by lightning. I gulp, looking at the silhouetted branches of the storm-struck tree.

Then I hear it again; that high, mewling sound, from somewhere deep in the cave dark. Instantly, the wolf turns back to me. He drops to the ground and slowly, slowly comes closer, ears flattened, tail low, silent. He moves out of the dim light at the cave’s edge and into my darkness. He’s even more terrifying when you can’t see him. I hear the click click click of his claws on the floor.

I try to swallow but my mouth’s too dry. I daren’t breathe but I know the worst thing I could do is panic. I try to think about what else I know about wolves. If a wolf does threaten you, you’re supposed to either act bigger than them, scare them off, or you’re supposed to act smaller than them, so they don’t feel threatened. The wolf’s growl deepens, so low I feel it in my belly. Which one was it? Act big or act small? I can’t remember! What am I supposed to do?

I decide to act big.

I jump to my feet and shout as loud as I can.

WOLF

‘Get out, wolf! Get out! Go home!’

My voice bounces off the walls of the cave. ‘… home … home … home …’

The wolf’s growl turns into a snarl.

‘RRRAAAAAAAA!’ I yell back.

Paws on stone.

Click

Click

Click

‘Go away!’ I yell again, my voice cracking. ‘Get away from me!’

I scramble back, away from the thin band of daylight, deeper into the dark. I can’t see the wolf but I can hear him, his growl low and steady, more like a vibration than a sound.

My back bumps into the wall and I can feel the cold dampness creeping through my T-shirt. I whimper, my breath ragged and catching in my throat.

‘Go home!’ I scream desperately at the wolf, and he’s so close I can smell his warm stink in the air between us.

Home! All I want is to go home …

A scurry of pebbles. The tiniest cold breeze.

The weight of the wolf, all fur and muscle, knocks me sideways. Winded, flat on my back, I smell the stench of the wolf’s hot, meaty breath. His dreadful growl goes right through me, into my bones. I feel my lungs fill with air and I scream. I thrash and writhe and try to shove him away. My fingers sink deep in his thick fur; I grab a handful in each fist and try to wrestle him off me. The wolf shakes his head and I lose my grip. I tighten my hands and punch with all my strength. The wolf snarls and pins me down; his claws dig into my shoulders like knives. I start to kick and kick my legs, but the wolf doesn’t shift at all.