Woody tore off ahead, then came back, then tore off again. Nat gave a small sob of defeat. He was all but done in. He doubted if Woody could take on two werewolves and win.

“I can’t run as fast as you,” he said. “You go on, I’ll try my best to keep up.”

Woody ran behind Nat, pushing him with his body, then ran up ahead, yipping and whining.

Nat took a deep, shaky breath. “I can’t do it,” he said sulkily. “I’m too tired.”

“A A A AHOOOOOWWWHHoooooHHHooaOOOOOOOOOh!”

It was as though someone had lit fireworks beneath Nat’s feet. His tiredness evaporated at the chilling howl, and he took off behind Woody as fast as a ballistic missile. Branches tore at him, blood mixing with the sweat running down his face. He was aware of nothing except his heart pumping the blood around his body and the rhythm of his feet flying across the soft woodland floor. It beat a kind of tattoo within his brain.

He found he had got his second wind; now it seemed easier to run than it had been to walk. Nat had clicked into autopilot, running himself into a kind of trance. Woody’s strength and energy seemed to infect him, pulsing through his veins and muscles, helping him keep up. He lost track of how long they had been running, and it wasn’t until Woody’s white coat took on a silver hue in the moonlight that he realized it had grown dark.

Up ahead, he thought he could see the vague, pale shapes of people waiting for them. They were all different sizes and appeared to be standing in a rough circle.

What now? thought Nat fearfully. Surely Woody has seen them, too? Why is he running toward them?

He saw Woody go and sit inside the circle. None of the shapes moved so much as an inch.

Nat didn’t have the strength left to feel relief when he realized what the shapes were. Woody was sitting in a ring of ancient standing stones. One of the stones was much larger than its fellows, about the size of a tall man, with other, smaller rocks lying at its feet in an untidy heap. Woody began scrabbling the smaller stones out of the way, before frantically digging in the mulch of leaves and dirt at the bottom, eventually revealing a narrow hole. It was more of a crack, really, between the stone and the earthy floor of the woods, about the same width as a small man. To Nat, it looked like the hungry maw of a giant’s mouth.

“Oh, no! No way,” said Nat, shaking his head violently. “I’m claustrophobic!”

“AAAAAAAAOOOOOOOOORRRRRRRRRRR WHHHOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

This time, the howls were closer. With no warning, Woody shot through the hole, disappearing out of sight.