The next morning, I’m shocked to see Petal walking to school with Stella. I wheel my bike down an alleyway and let them pass.

I hear Stella say, ‘I’d stay away from Ziggy if I were you, Petal. She’s always been weird.’

‘Yeah, I know,’ says Petal.

I hold my anger inside and ride furiously towards Gold Leaf Lodge. I have to tell someone what happened in the woods last night and the only person I can think of is Grandpa Truegood. Even if he won’t understand.

Just as I’m nearing the end of town, I see Miss Cubby. I slow down. What’s she doing here? She should be at school, getting ready for class.

Then I realise she’s crying.

‘Is everything all right, Miss Cubby?’ I say, getting off my bike.

Miss Cubby stands very still and takes in a long deep sigh. ‘The town council had a meeting last night. They . . .’ Her breath hitches in her throat and more tears well up in her eyes. ‘They no longer want me to teach at the school.’

My hand goes up to my mouth. ‘What? But why?’

‘The town elders don’t like what I’m teaching you. They say you don’t need to know about the outside world.’

‘But Miss Cubby, you are the best teacher we’ve ever had!’

‘And I’m rewarded every day with your enthusiasm. I’m going to miss you all, especially you, dear Ziggy.’ She touches my cheek with her hand. ‘I don’t understand what is happening. The town has changed so much in the last year. It feels different.’

Then she looks at me. ‘You don’t seem to change though, Ziggy, and that gives me hope. You’d better get off to school yourself or you’ll be late.’

Miss Cubby wipes her tears and turns away.

But I don’t go to school. I ride slowly to the Lodge, thinking about poor Miss Cubby. How could they say that what she is teaching is bad? What is going on in Dell Hollow? The worry is like a stone in my chest.

When I get there, Grandpa Truegood is staring out the window. He seems to be listening to the songbird in the woods. It’s singing a sad lonely song, as if it has lost something precious.

I squeeze his hand gently. ‘When I was a little girl,’ I say. ‘You told me a story about Kalila.’ There’s a flicker of light in his eyes and I’m hopeful. ‘Do you remember Kalila, Grandpa?’

Grandpa Truegood smiles and nods.

‘What does it mean? Can you remember?’

He looks confused and I realise I’m asking a string of questions.

‘Kalila,’ I say again, seeing if this one word will spark a memory.

‘It has returned, Ziggy,’ he says, looking me straight in the eye. ‘Take great care.’

‘What has returned, Grandpa Truegood?’ I say, urgently.

‘A wicked creature. A trickster. I fought it once. It took my mind. Be careful . . .’ Grandpa Truegood touches my heart. ‘Do not trust what you see or hear.’

He turns to look at a nurse talking to a patient at the next table. He points at a set of keys hanging from her belt. ‘The jade bottle is the key,’ he says.

I wait a moment, confused. But he is silent. Then I suddenly realise what he is talking about.

‘You mean the little jade bottle you gave me?’

He nods, eyes bright, and opens his mouth.

‘It is time for your therapy, Mr Truegood,’ interrupts the nurse, taking his arm. ‘Will you excuse us, Ziggy.’

No, not now, I want to say. Grandpa Truegood’s mind is sharp and I need to find out so much more. But he stands obediently and his eyes are dull again.

I stare after him. What did he mean when he said the trickster who took his mind? Does he mean Raffi? Or the silver fox?

When I get to school it’s recess, but everyone is still in the classroom, their faces white. Miss Cubby’s desk is empty.

‘Where have you been?’ says Petal. ‘Did you hear the news?’

‘About Miss Cubby, yes,’ I say.

‘None of us want to work. Principal Poole might as well send us home for the day.’

I turn to look at Raffi’s empty desk.

‘He didn’t come to school,’ Petal says crossly. She turns and walks over to Stella. I want to follow her, to ask her what’s going on, but on the other side of the room Harry Arnold’s voice rises above all the others. I hear the word ‘hunt’ and ‘wild dog’.

Everyone quietens down to listen.

‘My dad’s lambs had their bellies ripped open like they were made of cottonwool,’ he says. ‘I saw them, guts and blood and hair everywhere. It was disgusting. Whatever did it, its claws must’ve been huge. My dad’s got a hunting party going into the woods tomorrow. Who wants to come?’

No one answers.

‘Are you all too sissy to go into the woods?’ Harry says.

‘But no one goes into the woods. They’re dangerous,’ says Chris.

‘Well, now we have to. My dad says so,’ replied Harry.

There’s a pause, then Macka says, ‘Count me in.’

‘And me.’

‘And me.’

Soon all the boys except Big Bobby Little have agreed to join the hunt. I listen, horrified. But I don’t say anything. It had to be the silver fox that attacked those lambs. Was it angry because I set the trap?

Then another thought surfaces and a chill runs through me. Did Raffi order it to attack the lambs, to pay me back?

That night I can’t get to sleep for ages, and when I finally do, I dream.

I’m standing on the grass, mist curling at my feet, spinning spidery webs around my body. I look back to my bedroom. The blind is up and I see my sleeping form.

Then I see the silver fox. It’s standing at the edge of the woods by the sycamore tree, dark against the tree’s pale trunk. Fine droplets of water flick up off the grass as it trots past me as if I am invisible.

I try to follow it, but something is stopping me. Why do my legs feel so strange? I look down. I am no longer Ziggy. I am a white antelope with two long curving antlers. I watch as the silver fox stalks towards my bedroom.

The fox leaps through the window and onto my bed. I feel its hot breath on my neck. I think about those razor-sharp claws that ripped apart the lambs and those jagged teeth that will tear my throat open. I cry out a warning, but the only sound that comes out of my antelope mouth is a bleat that gets swallowed up in the creak and whirr of the woods.

Helplessly, I watch as the silver fox treads around my sleeping body, sniffing and pulling at the blankets. I am defenceless, unable to stop the attack that will come at any moment.

Then a surprising thing happens. The silver fox yawns, stretches and lies down beside me in the exact spot where Mystic usually sleeps. What is even stranger is this: it feels as if we know each other. This is the beast that has been stalking me. The beast that is going to drown me on my twelfth birthday. But feelings of fear and love and wonder wind themselves together like the strands of a silken cord, binding me to my fate.

A fate I can no longer understand.