“Dexter? Where are you?”

Joe shone his beam to the left and right. But there was nothing but tall ferns, knee-high grasses, and a wall of giant trees looming menacingly over him. A dark shadow flitted past. Something else moved in the bushes to his right. Up above he heard a fluttering of wings. The creatures of the forest were everywhere. Joe’s heart beat faster. Then suddenly he heard a howling in the distance.

Awwwhoooooooooo...

“Dexter?” Joe whispered. He began to move slowly toward the sound, carefully edging around uprooted tree stumps and sunken burrows.

Awwwhoooooooooo...

The wind was stronger now, and the trees swayed and moaned, their branches creaking and groaning. Bats fluttered above. Owls watched from the trees and tiny scratchy rodents scurried over his feet.

Awwwhoooooooooo...

“I’m coming, Dexter!” Joe called. His flashlight picked out a few old sawed-off tree stumps. Then the ground became flatter, and he spotted a path, snaking off to the right. And suddenly the surroundings looked familiar. He’d done it! There was a crashing of branches, and Dexter hurtled toward him.

“There you are! I thought I’d lost you!”

Joe frowned. “What are you talking about? Your howling guided me here.”

Dexter cocked his head to one side. “I wasn’t howling.”

“What?”

If it wasn’t Dexter, what was it? Joe glanced around the dark trees, their branches creaking eerily in the wind. A cold shiver crackled down his spine. “Come on. Let’s get to the cottage.”

Once they were on the right path, it was easy to find the cottage. Joe wasn’t looking forward to this bit—telling lies about being lost. As he knocked on the door, the puppies started barking inside. A man’s voice hushed them and the door opened.

The forester was big and bearded. He towered over Joe. But then his face crumpled into a smile and Joe breathed a sigh of relief. “Hello, there,” he said. “What can I do for you?”

“Um, hello, my name is Joe Edmunds. I was on a night walk from the camp and I got lost . . .”

“You’d better come in,” said Tom’s dad. “I’m Paul Frost. Were you with Lizzy French?”

Joe nodded.

“I’ll dig out her cell number and tell her you’re okay. You’re not the first kid who’s turned up on our doorstep!”

Dexter headed straight for the living room where the pups were barking and whining and scratching at the door.

“I’ll try calling Lizzy now. The signal’s not always great in the forest,” Paul warned. “But if we can’t reach her, we can always walk you back to the campsite.”

That was the last thing Joe wanted! If Mr. Hill didn’t come to the cottage, the plan would be a washout!

There was an agonizing silence and then . . .

“Hello, Lizzy? It’s Paul Frost here—yeah, from Foxglove Cottage. One of the boys from the camp has appeared on my doorstep!”

Joe shifted his feet. He could just imagine the look on Mr. Hill’s face.

“Yes, Joe Edmunds, that’s right.” There was a pause and then, “Oh yes, fine. See you soon.”

The plan was working so far, but Joe was going to be in a lot of trouble. He’d probably be in detention until he was twelve!

Paul hung up the phone and smiled at Joe. “They’re on their way. Do you like dogs? My children are playing with some spaniel puppies in here. I’ll just go and make sure the outside light is on.”

Joe opened the door to the living room. The puppies were racing around, jumping over Rachel and Tom, chewing one another’s tails and barking like crazy.

“Hi,” said Tom. “Did you get lost again?”

“Yeah,” Joe said awkwardly. “I recognized the path and so I was able to find your house . . .” He was terrible at making stuff up. He stroked one of the puppies and tried to think of something else to say.

Dexter couldn’t sit still. He kept jumping up at the window, then dashing through to the kitchen, listening for Mr. Hill. “What if he won’t come in?” he barked, as he made another return journey to the living room. “He needs to meet the pups properly.”

Joe ignored him. There was nothing he could do but wait.