EXTRACT FROM CHAPTER 1 There was a wolf on the cycle path. Silas walked along the path every day after school. It ran beside a patch of woodland. It was not the fastest way home, but Silas used it because he liked being by himself, and the cycle path was always empty. Until today. The wolf stood in the middle of the path, watching him. Its head was as high as his chest. He had never been so close to such a large wild animal.
He did not know what to do. He had seen wolves in a wildlife park once: they had been pale, silent shapes slipping between the trees, too far away to seem dangerous or even quite real. But this wolf was real. He could hear it panting. He could see its wet red tongue and its long white teeth. At the sight, a chill crawled all the way from his shoulders to the base of his spine, and gooseflesh tingled on his arms. His heart beat hard in his chest. He told himself he ought to back away carefully.
He ought to run. But if I run, he thought, the wolf might chase me. Maybe I should flap my arms and shout so that it goes away. Wild animals are usually nervous of people, aren''t they? But the wolf did not look nervous. It looked hungry. Its grey eyes were fixed on Silas, just waiting for him to start running. The narrow path was like a trap, with a brick wall on one side and a wire fence on the other. He held his breath.
He kept very still. And then the wolf took a step forwards. Silas nearly ran. He nearly cried out in fright and fell over backwards. But he did not do this, not quite, because he had noticed something. The wolf was walking oddly. It was limping, barely touching the ground with one of its front paws. When it was almost within reach, it held up the paw as if it wanted to shake hands.
Silas knelt down beside the wolf. The paw was larger than both his hands together. It had thick grey fur, hard black claws and big rough pads. The smell was strong, but not bad: it was earthy and musky, and it reminded Silas of something. For a moment he could not tell what, but then he knew. The wolf smelled like the scent that rises from dry ground at the end of a hot day when the rain begins to fall. He moved the pads apart and the wolf growled softly in its throat. Silas let go in a hurry, but the wolf whined and offered him the paw again.
Being as slow and gentle as he could, he grasped the paw and tried to see what the matter was. Yes, he thought, something was lodged there. A metallic glint deep between the pads. The wolf gave a snarl as he eased the paw open, but it let him coax the object free. It was an old brass drawing pin, battered and bloody. It must have been digging into the paw at every step. The wolf circled away and took a few steps along the path, no longer limping. Then all at once it was alert, lifting its head and swivelling its ears as if it sensed danger.
It prowled along the fence until it came to a place where the wire was torn at the bottom, making an entrance into the woodland. The grey eyes locked with Silas''s eyes for a moment, and the wolf wriggled through the hole. The patch of woodland had perhaps twenty trees, with the backs of houses showing through the branches. There was nowhere for a large animal to go. But as Silas watched, the wolf crouched in the undergrowth and disappeared from view. Silas stood at the fence, wondering if anything else was going to happen. But there was no movement among the trees. It was as if the wolf had never been there.
That must be the end, he thought. It had been a brief, strange meeting and now it was time for him to go home. Then he heard a voice behind him. ''Good afternoon,'' it said. ''This is a fortunate meeting.'' A fox was sitting on the path: a neat creature with a sharp face and dark red fur. It gazed up at him. Beside it sat a second fox, larger and paler, with green eyes set close together.
As Silas watched, more foxes appeared on the path behind the small dark fox and the large pale one. Soon there were twenty foxes sitting and looking at him. The dark fox spoke.