“What if there are Wolven in other parts of the world?” said Nat, desperate to make amends. “Iona and Professor Paxton brought your clan over from France. It’s possible. We don’t even know they all died. Maybe some of them escaped?”

“Then why can’t I … feel them?” asked Woody miserably.

“Maybe because France is off your telepathic radar?” said Nat, trying to coax his friend out of his sad mood.

“S’pose,” agreed Woody reluctantly.

“Can you still howl when you’re this shape?” asked Nat suddenly.

“‘Course,” said Woody, puzzled by the question. “Why?”

“Would you teach me?” asked Nat. “You never know, it might come in handy one day.”

Woody looked at him sideways, then grinned unnervingly. A little shiver ran down Nat’s spine. Woody looked really weird at this halfway point, neither boy nor Wolven.

“Like we could howl … to each other?” asked Woody.

Nat nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, you never know, it might be useful. If you can’t talk, maybe I could learn to howl!”

“OK.” Woody sighed doubtfully. “But you’ve got to take it … er … seri …”

“Seriously!” finished Nat. “I will, I will. You go first, if you like.”

“Let me get comfortable first.”

They sat down on top of one of the stone picnic tables overlooking Diamond Bay.

Woody threw his head back. His powerful throat filled with oxygen. He closed his eyes, and let rip. The phenomenal noise filled the evening sky, bouncing off the quartz-encrusted cliffs surrounding the bay.

It was Nat’s turn. He stood on the stone table with his legs apart. He lowered his head backward, as he had seen Woody do.

“UUUrrr.”

“What was that?” asked Woody incredulously.

Nat collapsed in a fit of embarrassed giggles.

“No, really, what was it?” asked Woody, concerned. “D’you still feel sick?”

“No,” said Nat indignantly, “I just feel a bit self-conscious, that’s all. Could you look away?”

He took some deep breaths, flung his head back, and cupped his hands around his mouth. “AAAoo!”

Nat finished by pretending to have a coughing fit, to hide his inadequacy.

Woody looked embarrassed for him. “I looked away that time. Still lame.”

“Right then.” Nat stood up and threw out his chest, his self-consciousness vanishing. “OOOooooooahhOOOOh!” Weak but willing, he gave it his best shot. His eyes watered, his throat was raw.

Woody grinned toothily. “My turn.”

Almost in full Wolven form now, he stood on top of the stone table and let another one go. This time, the glass in the bus shelter vibrated and threatened to crack.

Eerily, the echo came back across the bay. When his ears had stopped their painful ringing, Nat gave him a round of applause.