Werewolf Skin (4 page)

The grass was slick and wet from a heavy dew. I felt a splash of cold on my
forehead.

A raindrop?

I groaned as I thought of my camera, sitting out in the woods. It was such an
expensive camera. I prayed I could find it before it started to rain.

Several tiny animals scampered silently past my feet.

I stopped.

No. Not animals. Fat, dead leaves. They scuttled over the dark grass, pushed
by swirls of wind.

I lowered my head under a tree branch and entered the woods at the back of
the yard. The old trees shivered and creaked.

The steady
WHOO
of an owl, far in the distance, made me think of my
aunt and uncle. They were here with their cameras somewhere in the woods. I
wondered if I would run into them.

I followed the twisting path through the trees. Another raindrop fell heavily
on the top of my head. Rain spattered the ground.

I stopped when the bent tree came into view. The tree I had photographed with
Hannah that afternoon. I played my flashlight over its curved shape.

“At least I’m heading in the right direction,” I said out loud.

I stepped over a fallen tree branch and moved deeper into the woods. The
trees began to hiss, the leaves shaking in the rising wind. I could still hear
the owl’s steady
WHOO WHOO
in the distance.

My flashlight dimmed, then brightened again. Its thin circle of light made a
path for me between the trees.

“All right!”

I cried out when the light swept over my camera case. I had set it down on a
flat tree stump. How could I have forgotten it there?

With another happy cry, I picked it up. I actually felt like hugging it. I
was so happy to have it back. I checked it out carefully, turning it under the flashlight.

I wiped away the few raindrops that clung to the top. Then, cradling it under
one arm, I started back to the house.

The rain had stopped, at least for a moment. I started to hum happily. I
wanted to
skip
all the way home!

The camera meant more to me than anything. I promised myself I’d never leave
it anywhere again.

I stopped humming when I heard the angry sound.

An animal snarl. A fierce, throaty roar.

I dropped the flashlight.

The creature roared again.

Where was it? Where was it coming from?

Right behind me!

I bent and grabbed up the flashlight. My knees suddenly felt weak. A cold
wave of panic swept over my body.

I heard loud animal grunts. Another angry snarl.

I forced myself to move. I had to get away from here.

A clump of fat shrubs rose up in front of me. Clutching my camera case, I
darted behind them. And dropped to my knees.

Hidden behind the bushes, I struggled to catch my breath. To stop my heart
from thudding so hard in my chest.

I couldn’t see around the fat leaves of the bush. But I could hear the
animal’s grunts and growls. I ducked lower, hoping I was completely out of view.

Hoping it couldn’t
smell
me.

And then I heard the crash of heavy feet on the ground. A high wail of anger,
like a cry of attack.

A frightened bleat rose up. So high and tiny. A terrified cry—cut off
quickly.

Snapped off.

Leaning into the shrub, my legs trembling, my whole body shaking, I heard a
struggle.

So close. So close, I felt I could stand up—reach out—and touch the
attacker and his prey.

So close, I heard every grunt, every frightened cry.

A thud. A growl. Another tiny, helpless bleat.

A loud ripping sound.

Wet chewing. The slap of jaws. More rapid chewing. An animal burp. Another
ripping sound.

I shut my eyes, picturing what was happening right in front of me.

I heard a thud. Then silence.

The hiss of the wind seemed to grow louder.

A hiss… then silence.

I opened my eyes.

I stood up shakily.

And heard heavy footsteps. Twigs and leaves crackling under heavy feet.

The footsteps approaching rapidly. Coming my way.

Coming for
me.
The creature—the hungry creature—was moving toward
me.

“Ohhhh.” A low cry of terror escaped my throat.

Gripping the camera case tightly, I spun away from the clump of shrubs. And
started to run.

I heard animal grunts behind me. Heavy-breathing pants.

I didn’t glance back.

I ran deeper into the woods. I thought I heard the splash and trickle of a
creek on my right. Wolf Creek? I didn’t stop to see.

A branch scratched my cheek as I scrambled past it. Pain shot over my face.

I raised one arm to shield myself as I ran.

Ran blindly. Ran through the darkness.

Where was the flashlight?

Oh, no. I’d left it behind in the bushes.

It was of no use to me, anyway. I was running too fast to keep to the path.

I lowered my shoulder and pushed my way through a patch of tall reeds. They
snapped back, slapping me wetly as I shot through them.

My foot caught on a half-buried rock. I slid off it, somehow keeping my
balance.

I leaped over an upraised tree root—and kept running.

Over the harsh gasps of my breath, I listened for the heavy, thudding
footsteps behind me. The animal growls.

Was the creature still chasing me?

I grabbed a smooth, damp tree trunk and stopped. I hugged the trunk,
struggling to keep my legs from collapsing, struggling to catch my breath.

I turned and gazed back.

Nothing there.

No growls. No grunts. No bang of heavy feet on the ground.

I sucked in breath after breath. My lungs burned. My mouth felt so dry, I
couldn’t swallow.

I’m okay, I told myself. I’m safe—for now.

I gazed into the deep darkness.

And the creature hit me from behind.

“Hunh—!”

I uttered a startled groan. And dropped to the ground.

I spun around to face my attacker.

No one there.

Nothing.

“Huh?” A shocked cry escaped my lips.

I started to scramble to my feet—and saw what had hit the back of my head.

A bird’s nest. A dried-up, broken bird’s nest. It must have fallen from a
tree limb above my head. Probably shaken loose by the gusts of wind.

“Oh, wow.” I shook twigs from my hair. Then, cradling the camera case under
my arm, I gazed around.

Where was I?

Trees up ahead slanted as if leaning against each other. A low mound of rocks
stood at the edge of a ridge of tall reeds.

I’m lost, I realized.

I gazed up at the sky. No moon. The heavy rain clouds covered the moon and
stars.

How do I get back? I squinted into the darkness, searching for the path.
Searching for anything I might recognize.

Nothing.

If I could find the creek, maybe I could find the spot where I found my
camera, I decided.

But which direction was the creek?

I was completely turned around.

I shivered. A cold raindrop spattered on the shoulder of my jacket.

I jumped. That bird’s nest had made me terrified of things falling from the
sky!

What should I do?

My mind whirred frantically with ideas.

Should I call out for help? Shout to my aunt and uncle? Maybe if I called
loud enough, they would hear me.

But, no. If I shout, the animal—the snarling creature—will hear me first.

Was it still searching for me? Was it still nearby?

I decided I’d better not call for help.

What should I do?
What
?

Start walking in one direction? And just keep going no matter what?

No. I remembered a book I’d read where a guy was lost in the desert. And he
tried walking in a straight line. And he just made circles. He went around and around and didn’t even realize it until he saw his own footprints
in the sand!

Maybe I should wait until the sun comes up, I decided. I’ll never find my way
in this darkness. When it’s daylight, I’ll have a much better chance.

I didn’t like the idea of spending the night in the woods. But waiting here
until I could see where I was going seemed like a good idea.

But then I heard a clattering sound. And felt the rain start to pound down
hard. A freezing rain, swept by gusting wind.

I can’t stay here, I realized.

I have to get back to the house.

I walked and walked, trying to retrace my steps. I sighed with relief when I
finally came to the clump of bushes where I’d hid. I found the flashlight and
gripped it tightly in my free hand.

I took a guess on which direction to go next.

Ducking my head against the rain, I started to walk again.

Less than a minute later, I stumbled over something.

Something soft.

I landed on my knees. Turned back to see what I had tripped over.

And let out a cry of horror.

The flashlight trembled in my hand. The quivering light revealed an ugly
picture.

I gaped down at an animal body. No. Two.

Two animals.

What were they? I couldn’t tell. They’d been clawed to pieces.

Completely ripped apart.

I remembered the ripping sounds I’d heard. The sounds of these animals being
torn apart. My stomach lurched.

What kind of animal did this?

What kind of animal was strong enough to tear other creatures apart?

A chill ran down my back.

I pulled myself to my feet. I forced myself to look away.

The rain poured down. I shielded my camera case under my jacket—and started
to run again.

I had to get away from that ugly sight. Would I ever be able to forget it?

The wind whipped the rain around me. I felt as if I were running through
ocean waves. But I couldn’t stop.

My fear kept me running.

That fierce creature still lurked in these woods. Still growled and hunted,
somewhere nearby.

My sneakers were soaked. I slipped and slid in the soft mud.

I’m not sure how long I ran. I stopped when I nearly ran right into the
creek. Pounded by the rain, it splashed over its low bank.

I turned and followed it, feeling a little more confident. After a while, I
spotted a narrow path cut through the tilting trees.

I turned onto the path. Would it lead me out of the woods? I had to try it.

The rain slowed to a soft patter. My sneakers sank deep into the mud as I
trotted along the curving path.

Soon I came to the bent, old-man tree.

“Yes!” I cried out loud. “Yes!” I waved my fist triumphantly in the air. I
was almost home.

I picked up my pace. A few minutes later, I burst out of the woods, into my
aunt and uncle’s backyard.

I was so happy! I wanted to fly!

I couldn’t wait to get into the warm house. To pull off my soaked clothes and
get into something dry.

But I stopped in the middle of the backyard.

And stared into the circle of yellow light from my flashlight.

Stared down at the strange footprints in the wet grass.

Deep, rutted footprints heading into the Marlings’ backyard.

I bent into the light to see them better. They weren’t human footprints. They
were too long and too wide and shaped differently from human feet or shoes.

Animal footprints.

Keeping the beam of light in front of me, I trailed the footprints, following
them over the grass.

Across the Marlings’ weed-choked backyard.

I stopped when I saw where the strange footprints led.

Right up to the Marlings’ open bedroom window.

When I came into the kitchen for breakfast the next morning, Aunt Marta was
on the phone. She stood at the counter with her back to me. But she turned as I
said good morning to my uncle, and flashed me an angry look.

“Yes, I understand,” she said into the phone. “Well, it won’t happen again.”

I took my place at the table beside Uncle Colin. He sipped from a white
coffee mug, his eyes on Aunt Marta.

“It won’t happen again,” my aunt repeated into the phone. She frowned. “I’ll
make sure he stays away. No. He wasn’t
spying
on you, Mr. Marling.”

So
that’s
who she was talking to.

Uncle Colin shook his head unhappily. “I warned you not to go near that
place, Alex,” he said. “We don’t need those people calling over here.”

“Sorry,” I murmured. “But—”

I wanted to tell him about last night, about everything that had happened to me and everything I’d seen.

But he raised a finger to his lips, motioning for me to be silent while my
aunt was on the phone.

“No. My nephew wasn’t taking pictures of your house, Mr. Marling,” Aunt Marta
continued. She rolled her eyes. “I promise. He won’t bother you again. I’ll talk
to him right now. Yes. Okay. Good-bye.”

She set down the receiver and turned to Uncle Colin with a sigh. “Those
people,” she murmured.

“We have to be careful,” Uncle Colin replied, narrowing his eyes at me. “We
don’t want to get them worked up.”

“But—but—” I sputtered. “I
saw
things—”

“They saw
you,
Alex,” my aunt interrupted. “They saw you prowling
around their house late last night. They are
very
angry about it.”

She poured herself a mug of coffee and came over to the table. She sat down
and swept a strand of gray hair off her forehead.

“What were you doing outside last night?” my uncle asked.

“I’m really sorry. But I had no choice. I left my camera out in the woods,” I
explained. “I had to run out and get it. I couldn’t leave it out all night—especially with the rain.”

“But you didn’t have to go near the Marlings’ house—did you?” Aunt Marta
demanded.