Chapter 32

Next morning I got woken by noises. Scrabbling noises. The scrabbling noises of a small troll clambering up the side of my bed.

I opened my eyes, and there he was. Round and fluffy, and perched on the edge of my bed. He had a gift in one paw. A piece of dried-up old gum. He handed it to me, bright-blue eyes staring straight into mine.

“Thank you,” I said, taking it. Although I had no idea where he found it – and I didn’t much want to know.

Then he scuttled off to his den, and I heard thuds and things moving, as if he was searching for something.

I opened my curtains. Outside, it was fine and sunny. Malinka was already out there. Heading down the garden, towards the gate into the woods, basket in her hand.

And here, in my room, my troll came scuttling back again. He handed me something – a book. The book I bought him in the Haggspit Museum.

Groundgrabbers and Wallwalkers.

So I propped myself up on my pillow, and my troll tucked himself into the crook of my arm. I opened the book. Then I showed him the first picture, and I started to read.

“This is a groundgrabber,” I read. “It is an imm. An intelligent magic machine. Its big engine is full of dragon oil.”

I stopped. Showed him the flap to lift, so he could see inside the engine.

My troll leaned forward. Lifted the flap. And gaped as the dragon oil bubbled and popped.

Then he crawked and he crawked, and he turned the page. Stared at the next picture. A big shiny wallwalker, crawling up a building. Eight long spindly arms stretched out.

“This is a wallwalker,” I read. “It is a very nimble imm. It can climb up the side of a building. It can paint and it can tile with its long thin arms.”

My troll found the flap to lift. He looked inside. A little bubbling paint container.

My troll pointed. Stared. Jiggled. I thought he might burst with excitement. He could NOT stop crawking.

And that was when I decided. “Crawky,” I said to him. “That’s your name.”

Somehow – sitting there, stroking the soft fluffy fur of a crawking troll baby, looking out of my window, seeing bright daylight outside, and the trees in the woods shake gently in the breeze, I felt better. A lot less scared.

Whatever I saw with my Shudders – even if I did see the Haggfiend – there was NO proof she was real. None. Just ideas.

And even supposing she was real – which she probably WASN’T – and my Shudders did see future witchhistory… Even supposing that – there was NO proof she was back right now.

None.

My Shudders could be showing future witchhistory a long LONG way off. Something from years, decades, hundreds – maybe thousands – of years ahead.

And maybe only a possible future.

Because the past is something that has definitely happened. But the future is something that could possibly happen.

Or maybe I Shuddered two ways. Saw future and past witchhistory. And those Shudders showed something from the past. Something long long gone.

Just then I heard feet hurrying across the corridor. My door burst open, and Hetty staggered in.

She had a big backpack on. Sensible shoes. Sensible robes. And specs slipping down her nose.

She gaped at me. At Crawky, propped up next to me. At the book. Then she got out her skychatter. “Gigi HAS to see this,” she said, snapping a picture and sending it.

Then she plonked herself down on the bed. “This is it, Flo,” she said, grabbing my hands, eyes shining. “This is IT! Next time you see me, I might have a boyfriend. A boyfriend! A boyfriend with DEPTH!”

Her skychatter rang. She looked. Gasped. “Flo, it’s him!” she said. “It’s HIM!”

She snatched it up. Answered it. “Errken, helloooo…”

And even though Errken was on the other end of a skychatter, Hetty was batting her eyelashes – up and down, up and down – under the specs.

“Yes, I DID read the article,” she said. “Fascinating. Absolutely fascinating… Me neither – I never would have imagined there were so many ancient ogre axes in the mountains of Witchenwild… Yes, just leaving now… See you there.”

Then she put her skychatter down and started shrieking. “He called! He CALLED!” she shrieked. “It is a sign, Flo. A SIGN!”

Then she gave me another hug – and was gone.

Me and Crawky went for a walk before breakfast. We walked down the garden, Crawky padding about – picking up things, sniffing them, putting them down again.

Then we went through the gate, into the woods.

Not many witches walk in this bit of the woods. I do though. I use the woods as a shortcut to Kika’s. Because Kika’s house backs on to the woods as well.

Kika never does the shortcut though. Not on her own. She says the woods are scary.

But they’re not.

The woods are quiet, peaceful. They’re called the Whispering Woods because that’s what they do. They whisper. They’re full of whispers. Full of tall trees with leaves that quiver and rustle, and sound like they’re whispering secrets to each other…

They were whispering now.

And then – I smelt something. That strange smell. Again. Strong and spicy, but sickly and sweet.

Beside me, Crawky was hissing, growling, all his fur up on end. Then he crouched down. Started sniffling and snuffling along the ground, following some kind of trail.

He gave a yelp. Then leapt into some bushes and scrabbled his way through.

I ran after him. What made him yelp like that?

And there, in a small clearing, I saw it.

A windsniffer. A small windsniffer – standing totally still. Not moving. Just standing. Small piggy eyes staring straight ahead. Bristles all up on end.

I crouched down. Was it dead?

No. Things didn’t die standing up.

Then – puff, puff, puff – tiny smoke rings came out of its nostrils.

But … why was it just standing there? Utterly motionless? What had happened to it?

Then I noticed something. Hoofprints. Right next to it. Deep hoofprints in the muddy ground.

Huge hoofprints…

I took a picture of them with my skychatter. And a feeling crept up my spine. An uneasy feeling. A shiver.

The smell … the windsniffer … the hoofprints…

Now the words of “Haggfiend Horror” started echoing round and round in my head…

“All creatures, all witches, rendered senseless by one look at her terrible face, by one smell of her terrible smell.”

And suddenly, the woods felt all wrong. Not quiet. Not safe. Not at all.

So I turned. Starting walking. Walked faster, then faster still. Faster and faster up the path. Back towards the gate, Crawky following behind me.

I pushed the gate open, and I ran. Up the garden, and into the house.

Back in my bedroom, I switched on my witchfixer. Those hoofprints… What were they?

I had to know.

The E list – that would tell me. The list of every known creature in Witchworld. And its current E status. Existing, Endangered or Extinct.

So I called the E list up on the screen. Uploaded the picture of the hoofprint from my skychatter.

Then I waited for the E list to match it.

Because the E list can match anything. A pawprint, a clawprint, a pile of droppings, a poop pat…

Or a hoofprint.

The E list can say what it is. What kind of creature made it.

So what would this be? What creature made that kind of hoofprint? Whatever it was – the E list would tell me. And soon.

But the E list was taking a long time.

Long enough for Malinka to start clattering around in the kitchen. Long enough for cooking smells, breakfast smells, to come wafting along the corridor…

Much too long.

The E list must be struggling. Struggling to find a match for that hoofprint.

And it was. Because a message flashed up on the screen. A message from the E list…

NO MATCH FOUND

Just as Malinka called me into the kitchen for breakfast.