And for two days, it worked.

CHAPTER 14
GONE TO GROUND

Nat Carver looked longingly at his comfy bed as he changed into his pajamas. Even his teeth felt tired, so he didn’t bother brushing them. But as soon as his weary head met the pillow, his brain left the town called “Exhaustion” and entered the more hostile territory of “Can’t-Get-to-Sleepsville,” a place he had often found himself since Lucas Scale had crept uninvited into his dreams. Lying awake with the annoying whirring of the electric fan threatening to drive him crazy, Nat wished he could share his fears with Woody. But Woody lay on his striped blanket under the stars, dreaming of a long-ago clan of brave Wolven.

By five A.M., when the first slivers of sunlight from the east squeezed through the blinds in his bedroom, Nat was in a deep sleep at last. He awoke much later to the smell of toast and bacon and the sound of Apple’s infectious laughter. With the arrival of the sun, he found some of his courage had returned, along with his appetite. He dragged on some clothes and bounded downstairs, his belly making weird boinging noises in anticipation of breakfast.

His family was already at the table, watching the local morning news show.

“Wonder if they’ll have anything on about the fair,” said Mick, pouring his tea into his saucer.

Nat smiled weakly. I seriously hope not, he thought.

“Aye, aye, here we go,” said Mick excitedly. “Hoo hoo! There I am!”

The camera had caught the mood of the evening perfectly: everyone singing and dancing and having a wonderful hoedown with the Wurzels. Nat grinned fondly at the sight of his granddad in his eye-wateringly colorful clothes standing at the very front of the crowd, playing air fiddle. The television segment was mainly about the record-breaking attendance and, to Nat’s relief, mentioned nothing about the chaos during the dog show. Mick was tickled four shades of pink to see himself on TV, and had to be physically restrained by Apple from telephoning all his friends from the Slaughtered Sheep.

According to the weather forecast, the summer was officially the hottest on record, and there was still no end in sight to the heat wave. In the comforting presence of his family, Nat felt that, for the moment, they were safe. He watched Woody in the garden, snapping lazily at dragon-flies as they flitted in and out of Nat’s old inflatable kiddie pool, their iridescent wings shining rainbow colors. But by the second day, keeping a low profile was beginning to get on Nat’s nerves, even though he didn’t know what else he would have been doing. He was jumpy and irritable, and his mood affected Woody, making him pace up and down the garden restlessly.

“Nat, we need to talk.”