Nat flung himself flat on his face, his head and neck fitting through the gap. He wriggled and writhed, but to no effect. He was too big! Panic rose in his throat, and then he remembered: He still had his backpack on!

He pulled himself out again, thinking that at any moment now, huge, sharp teeth would close on his legs. He shook off the pack and hurled it into the hole, then squeezed himself through. He tumbled forward into the darkness, expecting to land on Woody’s soft, furry body. Instead, his knees and elbows scraped against sharp stones, making him yowl with pain. He didn’t know which way was up; all his bearings were lost in his panic to get into the hole, away from their pursuers. Attempting to stand upright, he slipped and fell, kicking out with his feet to try to keep his balance. He eventually managed to stand, with his back propped up on a kind of rocky ledge, giving him some support as he peered into the blackness.

A sound made him freeze: an animal sound.

Oh, no, thought Nat. They’re in here. The werewolves are in front of us, not behind!

“Ow! Get your foot out of my face!” shouted a familiar voice.

“Woody?” asked Nat joyfully, trying in vain to peer through the gloom.

“Who else did you think it was?” said Woody.

“I wasn’t expecting you to change,” said Nat, relieved. “That was quick.”

“Getting better,” said Woody modestly. “I’m so smooooooth, I can …”

Then total pandemonium broke out.

Something large and hairy rammed itself into the hole, clawing frantically at the musty air in the dark cave, trying to grab either boy. Nat opened his mouth in shocked horror as a giant misshapen paw slithered around his shoulders and hooked its claws around his neck, dragging him back toward the opening. They heard a primitive grunt of satisfaction as it pulled Nat nearer to the hole.

Woody positioned himself behind Nat, ready to fight for his friend. Eyes of blazing coal met Woody’s. As Nat ducked, Woody’s rigid index finger poked outward, straight into Vincent Spaghetti’s eye. The werewolf howled in pain and fury, letting go of his prize as he pulled his paw out of the hole.

“Quick! Fill it up!” Woody shouted as Nat fell back, rubbing his tender throat. “Come on, we can’t take the chance that they’ll fit through!”

They scrabbled around on the floor to find stones big enough to block the hole, all the while expecting to see the slavering jaws of the werewolves appear.

When they were sure the hole was filled, they listened for any further sounds outside. There were none.

“They must have given up,” whispered Woody.

“Thanks,” croaked Nat gratefully. “That was way too close. I thought I was toast.”