Lucie tossed and turned. In her dreams she was wandering deep in a snowy forest. She could hear wolves howling in the distance. For a moment she woke up, and thought she could still hear them. Then she drifted back into a troubled sleep.
Suddenly she sat up, wide awake. Two eyes were gleaming at her.
“Fang!” whispered Lucie.
Fang laid a paw on Lucie’s arm. Then she glanced at the window. “The moon is full,” she said. “And Wolves are Roaming.”
“Roaming where?” Lucie whispered. Fang did not answer.
“Oh, Fang,” Lucie whispered. “You’re not leaving?”
Fang was still gazing at the moon. She seemed to be thinking.
“Are you brave enough to come too?” she asked at last. “Are you brave enough to Roam with Wolves? Are you ready to seek out their Wisdom?”
“Yes,” said Lucie. “But,” she added, “we won’t go forever? I mean, I know my parents are sometimes stupid and annoying, but I can’t leave them forever. They would be so upset.”
“One night should be enough. Either we find a way or we don’t. Climb on my back, She-Child.”
Lucie slipped out of bed and put on her warm dressing-gown and slippers. Then she climbed onto Fang’s back. It felt very odd. Lucie had once tried riding a pony. But riding a wolf felt completely different.
“Hold tight,” said Fang. “Don’t worry about pulling my fur. You won’t hurt me. And grip tight with your heels. If you are very frightened,” she added, “it might be best to shut your eyes.”
Lucie was a bit frightened then, especially as the next thing Fang did was to leap onto the window sill. To her astonishment, Lucie saw that it was snowing. Snowflakes swirled through the air and down onto the darkened garden, as if someone was emptying bags of feathers.
Fang pushed at the window with her paw, and even though Lucie had been sure it was locked, it came open.
Then Fang crouched low, gathered her strength…and leapt into the night.
The air roared around Lucie’s ears. This must be a dream, she thought. Because if Fang really did jump out of the window, we’d have hit the ground by now and that would be the end of us!
But the cold snow on her face was real. So was the owl that almost flew into them, with an alarmed “Tu-Whoo!” And the enormous drop beneath her, that Lucie saw when she dared to look down — yes, that was real too.
“We are flying!” yelled Lucie. “We’re really flying!”
“I know,” said Fang. “No need to make so much racket.”
Lucie gazed around at the steep rooftops and the swirling snow. She began to laugh with surprise and delight.
“Don’t do that,” said Fang. “You’ll fall off.”
So Lucie sat quietly and tried to see what she could recognise. They were circling round over the old professor’s house. Lucie had always thought it looked like a haunted house, with its turret and twisted chimneys like tall, black candlesticks. It looked more haunted than ever in the snow.
They approached the church clock.
“What’s that?” Lucie cried, as a black shadow squeaked.
“Just a bat,” said Fang.
They were gaining height now. The moon was rushing towards them. The air round Lucie’s ears grew into a wind. Fang was flying — but it felt more as if she were running.
And the strange thing was that although Lucie was in the middle of a snowstorm, and in only her night things and dressing-gown, she felt warm as toast.
A plaintive howl echoed through the sky. Fang lifted her head and howled too. Then she ran through the air even faster than before.
For a while Lucie was so giddy that she just clutched at Fang and shut her eyes. She felt they must have travelled miles and miles. The air was much colder, and there were no traffic sounds.
When she was able to look down again, she saw that they had not come so far after all. They were over the park.
At least, Lucie thought it was the park. But she could not see the playground. Nor the bandstand. Nor the cafe by the lake. Nor any of the concrete paths.
All she could see were trees, with wide, snow-covered spaces running between them; the lake; and the darkness of the ravine.
“Is that the park?” she asked Fang. “I mean, it looks like the park. But then in another way it doesn’t.”
“It is the park,” said Fang. “But it was a meeting place for us wolves long before you humans came and put your walls and fences round it.”
Fang began to run fast again. It had stopped snowing. The sky was full of stars. Dad had once told Lucie that it was hard to see the stars clearly nowadays because of all the streetlights, but tonight they shone and shimmered like anything.
Suddenly there was a great noise of howling. It sounded like hundreds and hundreds of wolves.
Then there were other shapes running beside them. White or grey, black or brown, even tinged with red, they raced through the night, with their tails streaming behind them. Wolves. After a while they were all of them running along the ground (although Lucie could not remember actually landing) and weaving through trees, and leaping streams and boulders.
Lucie was breathless, certain she had never travelled so fast in her life. She should be terrified — yet she was filled with a wild joy and excitement.
At last they entered a wide, snow-covered clearing. Many wolves were gathered there. Fang walked among them, pausing to greet wolf after wolf, nodding and bowing. The wolves were very polite. Although none of them were carrying children, they did not ask about Lucie, or stare.
Then, as they approached one side of the clearing, Lucie saw a wolf sitting near a tall fir tree. Immediately, she sensed that this wolf was special.
Fang lowered her head. She approached the new wolf very slowly. When she was a body-length away, she flattened herself to the ground.
The new wolf was very, very old. It had a lean, white muzzle and milky-white eyes. Two younger wolves stood on either side, like guard-wolves. Lucie sensed that Fang respected this wolf greatly.
“Greetings, Oh Fang-That-Bites-Sharp-In-The Forest,” said the old wolf, in a husky voice. “Who is this Human Child? And why have you broken our custom to bring her here among us?”