I grin back. ‘I’d better go.’ I scramble to my feet. ‘Bye!’ I yell over my shoulder as I turn and run back down through the clearing and on to the gravel path through the forest.

Among the trees the air tastes cool and shadowy. The branches on either side of the path lean in slightly, so it’s dark like a tunnel. I can still hear the faint echo of Lamont and Beaky’s laughter. A big clumsy bird flaps out of a tree, so close to my head I duck. My foot skids out in front of me and I end up sitting on the path. The bird lands on a branch, beady eyes staring at me. It’s a wood pigeon with feathers the colours of early morning sky: grey and pink and silver.

I look down at the gravel I disturbed when I slipped. One small, pale stone catches my eye. I pick it up and rub it on my shorts to clean it. It’s whitish, smooth, about the size and shape of an almond. I stare at the dull gleam of the stone on my muddy palm, and I realise it’s not a stone at all. It’s a tooth! A little shiver tingles like a breath across my shoulder blades.

A tooth, root and all! Wow! And it’s not small either, must be from quite a decent-sized animal – a badger? A fox maybe? Or a deer? I don’t care if Beaky and Lamont tease me about it; this tooth is definitely going in my collection. I’ve never found a tooth in Mandel Forest before. I get to my feet, pressing the tooth’s pointy end into my fingertip; it leaves a little dimple there. I slide it into my pocket.

I feel the weight of someone watching me.

‘Lamont? Beaky?’ I call. It would be just like them to sneak up on me, get revenge for not winning the game.

There’s no one here.

The wood pigeon in the tree ruffles his feathers noisily and I nearly jump out of my skin. ‘You scared me!’ I say as I gaze up at him. His feathers shimmer, swirling colours of oil on water.

The wood pigeon stares back. ‘Whooo?’ he says, his head cocked to one side. ‘Whooooo? Whoooooooooo?’

I laugh.

‘I’m Charlie Merriam,’ I reply, and the wood pigeon flaps off.

Chollie. Murr. Umm, says a low voice from high in the tree behind me. A human voice. A voice I do not know.

I run. Faster than I’ve ever run before. Because this time it’s not a game.

HOME

The forest is a blur of green and the only sound I can hear is the pounding of my heart. I reach the fork, then I sprint up the path and along past the high wooden fences, to my gate, to my garden, to home.

I burst in the back door.

‘Mum!’ I yell.

‘What’s the matter with you, Charlie?’ asks Dad. He’s cooking spaghetti in the kitchen.