It’s only a nightmare, he thought to himself dreamily. Any second now I’ll wake up … Uuuuughh! Barely inches away, the savage, corrupt stink of the wolf thing suddenly tore into Nat’s senses like smelling salts. Gagging, Nat snapped his head back, the hypnotic effect broken, his eyes watering. The wolf thing made as if to grab him with an enormous misshapen paw, and as Nat turned to run, he fell forward, hitting the floor with a bone-jarring thump, and woke up, surrounded by familiar things again.

He laughed shakily. He was right. Nothing but a stupid nightmare, and now he had fallen out of bed. His heart was banging in his chest like a chorus of bongo drums, and his pajama top was sopping wet with sweat. He had an urge to call out for his dad, but reality hit him. His dad was gone, and there was no way he would call for his mum and upset her.

He closed his eyes and breathed in — hmmm — and breathed out — hoooo — the way his mum had taught him to relax. The bedroom was aglow with a cold white light; a light so strong, it felt heavy. Nat groaned. On top of the hideous nightmare, the streetlights outside were working overtime. Hold on, though. We’re in the country; there are no streetlights outside. And even if there were, they weren’t tall enough to shine into his room; the slanted windows in the roof were too high. Still badly shaken, Nat got up off the floor, his legs feeling weak and bendy like rubber, and stood on tiptoe to look out of the window.

A vast full moon hung in the velvety-blue night sky. The enormous white orb threw its penetrating light so strongly that the darkened areas on its surface — the seas, the plains, and the craters that were usually invisible — glowed like silver.

Memories of the horrible creature and how it had stunk of dark, wet places surfaced, and Nat shuddered, feeling jumpy and itchy and strange. Knowing sleep would be impossible, he crept out onto the landing and past his grandparents’ room, smiling slightly at the appalling noise of both of them snoring. It sounded just like several pigs snorting down slop. Apple always denied snoring, but she was even noisier than Mick. Nat wondered how they could sleep with that racket going on, then he remembered how loud the TV gunfire had sounded. They both must have been going deaf.

He opened the kitchen door and went in to get a drink of water. As he reached up into the cupboard for a glass, a noise made him freeze. Despite the heat, cold shivers slid up and down his limbs, and the tiny hairs at the back of his neck prickled and fizzed. He strained his ears to catch the noise again. It was as though someone was crying softly; someone who was upset, but didn’t want anyone else to hear.