Mist

I looked back at Alice. She’d stopped too and was staring at me with a strange expression on her face. She seemed to be muttering to herself.

The breeze died away very suddenly and the chill was like a blade of ice cutting into my face; all was suddenly silent, as if every living thing in the wood were holding its breath. Tendrils of mist snaked out of the trees towards us, approaching from all directions. I looked at Alice again. There had been no warning of this change in the weather. It didn’t seem natural. Was it dark magic? I wondered. The dogs crouched down on their bellies and whined softly. Even if it was intended to help us, my master would be angry if Alice used dark magic. She’d spent two years training to be a witch and he was always wary of her turning back towards the dark.

By now the Spook had taken up a defensive position, his staff held diagonally. The soldier reached him and slashed downwards with his sword. My heart was in my mouth, but I needn’t have feared. There was a cry of pain – but it came from the soldier, not my master. The sword went spinning into the grass, and then the Spook delivered a hard blow to his assailant’s temple to bring him to his knees.

The mist was closing in fast, and for a few moments my master was lost to view. Then I heard him running towards us. Once he reached us we hurried on, following the river, the fog becoming denser with every stride. We soon left the wood and the river behind and followed a thick hawthorn hedge north for a few hundred yards until the Spook waved us to a halt. We crouched in a ditch, hunkering down with the dogs, holding our breath and listening for danger. At first there were no sounds of pursuit, but then we heard voices to the north and east. They were still searching for us – though the light was beginning to fail, and with each minute that passed it became less likely that we’d be discovered.

B7 C1