by Jayne Lyons
'Remember, Freddy, always be nice to the puppies,' Batty whispered. 'This is our way in.'
'Okay, watch this – she'll love it.' Freddy jumped up onto his hind legs and did a twirl. The girl clapped once more.
'Again,' she cried.
Freddy did a handstand.
'Again,' she cried.
Freddy did a cartwheel.
'Again,' she cried.
'Stinky – Operation Flying Dog,' Batty called and lay on her back. Freddy nodded. It was a manoeuvre they had perfected on the nights he had been a wolf and Batty a dog. It was perfect for reaching the hatch in the pantry where Mrs Mutton stored the Tim Tams. Tonight they were swapping roles.
Freddy ran and threw himself through the air at Batty. He landed on her four paws and she propelled him back into the air, as if from a trampoline. Freddy did a double somersault and landed expertly on the window ledge on his tippy toes. He gave his audience a bow.
'The Plan Master,' he said.
'Again!' the little girl cried.
'That's all for now, folks,' Freddy yipped. The morning sun was almost peeping at the horizon.
'Again!' The girl was a little more insistent.
'Well, maybe later . . . if I could just come in now?'
'AGAIN!' the girl cried furiously, and then grabbed his tail and gave it a tug.
'Ow!' Freddy yelped as he was yanked into the room.
'Be nice to the puppy!' Batty warned from below.
'Again!' The girl whacked his head with a plastic hammer. It squeaked.
'Ow!' Freddy yapped louder.
'Shh!' Batty shushed.
Freddy's clawed toes scrabbled on the tile floor as he tried to escape, but she yanked him back again.
'Ow! Okay, okay! What a revoltitious child!' He jumped up and performed a ballet pirouette. The little girl screamed in delight.
'You look very elegant, Freddy – like a proper girl!' Batty laughed, her paws up on the window ledge.
'I do not! I'm tough. It's just a cover to keep the baby happy. Shh!'
Freddy shot under the sofa as the door opened.
'Well, little miss, what's all this noise about? It's not even morning yet.' Freddy peeped out at the lady who had walked into the room. It was Sugar Smith.
'Mama,' the little girl cried. She held out her arms and ran over.
Freddy took his chance and scampered out from under the bed and through the open door.
'Doggie.' The girl pointed after him.
The sun was beginning to rise. Freddy could feel his blood heating, his muscles shaking – it was almost time for his Transwolfation.
'Dad, Dad, I'm here. I have it – the Moonstone,' he called, as he scampered into the vet's room.
Flasheart jumped up with a rumble of laughter.
'Well done, Pinky. I knew you'd do it! But quickly,' he growled, looking at the camera.
Shafts of morning sunlight came in through the window. Freddy scampered over and dropped the ring inside the cage at his father's feet. Flasheart placed his heavy front paw on the Moonstone. While it was in contact with him, he would remain as a wolf, and his Fangen secret would be safe from discovery.
'Lock the door, son.'
'But Dad, how do we open that cage and get you out of here?' Freddy asked after he locked the door with his little teeth. 'You can't stay in a zoo forever.'
'Contact Sir Grey Hightail, leader of the Fang Council. He'll know what to do. Now, Freddy.'
They heard footsteps approaching and the door began to rattle.
'Do you see the metal tag in my ear?' Flasheart turned his head and leaned against the bars.
'Yes – does it hurt?' Freddy asked.
'Nothing for a wolf like me to worry about, pup,' his father said nobly.
Freddy's nose crinkled – sometimes he suspected his father might be a bit of a show-off.
'After you finish transwolfating, I need you to place the stone on the earring for me.'
'Oh!' Freddy looked down at his front legs – he was transforming. He scampered away out of sight of the camera. The curly hairs on his legs were disappearing as if they were being pulled in from inside his skin. He could feel his limbs growing. He felt like he was covered in itchy scabs that were falling off.
'Be careful, pup,' Flasheart growled, but his voice sounded only like a howl, for Freddy's ears could no longer understand Wolfen. He had transformed, but at least the camera had not seen him. He looked down at his hands – the claws were gone and only the tufts in his palms remained of his fur. Freddy, much relieved and still out of sight, reached up and pulled the electric plug from the camera and the green light went out. They were safe for now.
Freddy quickly returned to the wolf and reached for the ring that held the Moonstone. Before his father's blood could begin the Transwolfation, he attached the ring behind the metal tag in his ear, so that it was hidden from view.
'That will stop you transforming until I can come back with help. I promise we won't leave you here.'
Freddy put his hands through the bars to stroke the wolf's soft black fur. He leaned forward and Flasheart licked his forehead. Just then the door rattled again, and Sugar hurtled through, holding a small camera in her hand. It flashed as she took a photo.
'Ah ha!' she cried in triumph.
'Oh no!' Freddy cried in panic.
Freddy jumped over Sugar and raced down the corridor, with America's top reporter in pursuit. He charged into the canteen and climbed up onto the window ledge.
'No, wait!' Sugar cried as the boy jumped.
'Quick, Batty, run! Let's go,' he called. Sprinting as fast as they could, the two friends dived under the gates of the zoo and ran for the woods, Freddy's bare buttocks pink in the morning sun.
'Doggie!' the little girl called, running towards the window and pointing after them.
Sugar only shook her head in confusion and looked down at the camera in her hand. She hoped that the shots she had taken of the wolf-boy came out. This was a story that would sell across the whole world.
She wandered back into the clinic and looked at Flasheart curiously. The huge wolf lay down, licking its paws. Its green eyes seemed to be watching her in amusement. She could even swear that the wolf winked at her.
An hour later, Freddy snuck out of the woods and into the grounds of Farfang. He checked the lawns like a trained soldier as he held his fingers in the shape of a gun. He sprinted across to the wooden bridge that led over the moat. Getting carried away with his action hero game, he leapt over a rose bush, straight into a forward roll and landed on his feet, ready for anything his enemies could throw at him.
'The master,' he nodded. He heard clapping behind him.
'Like, that was so-ooo . . .' Lame, Priscilla thought. '. . . fantastic!' She smiled.
Freddy turned with a grin of pride, his hands on hips. 'Just practising my karate,' he told her. 'Hi-ya!' He chopped the air with his hand and gave a kick.
'In your diaper?' Priscilla's eyebrow rose a little higher.
'My what? Diaper – oh!' Freddy flushed purple and looked down. He was wearing a pair of 'underpants' fashioned out of a pillowcase that he had nabbed from someone's washing line. It did look like a giant nappy.
He was not looking as dignified and noble as he had planned. He gave a shrug. 'It's what all the coolest kids are wearing for karate,' he assured her.
'Whatever. So, did you get me the Blavendoch?' Priscilla asked.
'Oh – well, no. I tried, only . . .'
'But I need it!' she cried shrilly and then took a breath. Priscilla managed to regain her calm and give Freddy a sweet smile. 'Oh well, never mind; it will just have to wait till next month.'
Sir Grey Hightail sat in the Great Hall under the tapestry of Sir Rathbone, and shook his head time and again as he listened to Freddy's story. Freddy looked at his feet in shame.
'You're going to see the wooden spoon, young pup!' Mrs Mutton warned. 'How many times have I told you to behave yourself?'
'
I don't know – two or three times?' Freddy shrugged his shoulders.
'Two or three thousand, more like,' she said with a scowl.
'None of this helps my old friend,' the leader of the Fang Council said quietly. 'We must release Flasheart from his cage. The Moonstone cannot protect him forever.'
'Horned toads, must he be rescued? I mean . . . he must be rescued, of course,' said Chester, stroking his moustache.
'It should be easy for someone to sneak into the zoo and open the gates. This puppy managed to get through,' the old man decided. 'It is hardly as if they are expecting us.'
Priscilla was sitting next door, watching television.
'Papa, come quick,' she called. Everybody ran and gathered around the TV. World's Most Wanted Wildlife was playing. Sugar Smith was standing in front of Flasheart's cage and talking into her microphone. The wolf's green eyes stared into the camera defiantly.
'And so, one mystery after another. First, we captured this black wolf and then . . . well, let me show you . . .'
And so played a short film that showed a little black poodle running into the room, stopping at the wolf's cage and yapping at it. The wolf growled in return and then the poodle disappeared from view. The film came to an end.
'That's because I switched the camera off. Don't worry – there's no evidence,' Freddy told them. Everyone ignored him.
'But fortunately, viewers, Sugar had her own camera and with it, she took pictures that you will not believe.'
A photo appeared – it showed Freddy's hands in Flasheart's hairy jowls, and the wolf licking his forehead. Luckily, the boy's face was hidden. The next picture was a murky image of Freddy as he sprinted down the corridor. The last, much to his purple-faced horror, showed his back and the top of his bum as he sat on the window ledge, ready to jump. The red Blavendoch birthmark was clear to be seen on his buttock. He stared with mortification at the screen.
'So who is the wild wolf-boy?' Sugar continued. 'Help us, viewers – does this boy look familiar?'
Freddy hid his face in his hands as the first photo of him flashed up again and zoomed in on his black, tufty hair and sticky-out ears. Then the last picture appeared, zoomed in – tragically for him – on his . . . Blavendoch.
'In case the boy tries to rescue the wolf again, the zoo is now in total security lockdown. Later today we will transfer the wolf to a maximum-security compound. So, folks, I'm Sugar Smith, signing off for World's Most Wanted Wildlife.'
One by one, every head turned to look at Freddy.
'It wasn't me,' he croaked, stepping back uncertainly. He didn't wait to hear their opinions of him. He turned, ran, and didn't stop until he was under his bed. He was never coming out again. Not only was he a national embarrassment, his bum shown on every screen in Britain, but worst of all, the chances of anyone being able to sneak into the zoo and rescue his father were almost nil.
What would Priscilla think of him now?
CHAPTER TEN
Most Wanted Wolf-Boy
The posters of Freddy were everywhere; in every shop window, on every lamppost, even blown up high on billboards. He couldn't bear the humiliation. Every time he switched on the TV, his Blavendoch was sure to pop up in an advert. His shame was complete.
Every hour, another member of the Moonlight Gathering would telephone Farfang in concern. Freddy could scarcely look at Priscilla.
The following morning, with Freddy forced to stay at home in hiding, Hightail and Chester made a trip to the zoo. Thanks to the publicity it was packed with visitors. Flasheart was now in an enclosure behind a tall fence, in the centre of an open green area. Large floodlights and cameras were trained on him. Children were queuing to look at the fearsome creature. Flasheart padded slowly around his enclosure, ignoring all the fuss. Hightail worked his way to the front of the crowd and exchanged a small nod with the wolf.
Hightail looked carefully at the mesh fence. It was three metres tall – and electrified. High in a wooden tower, the man who had shot Flasheart with the dart sat watching the crowd, his gun in his hand. Chester gave the man a significant look.
Hightail waited until there was a lull in the crowd, then he leaned towards the cage. Flasheart made a signal with several stamps of his paw. The old man understood.
'I agree,' he said, 'it is too dangerous now. We must wait until all the interest has died down. The Moonstone is secure – you're safe here for now. If matters change, give the signal of the High Howling and the Fangen shall come, whatever the cost.'
Flasheart gave a snarling grin of agreement and looked around at his thronging fans. He leapt towards the bars and the crowd screamed and jumped back. He wagged his bushy tail merrily – he could at least have some fun while he waited.
Before he left the zoo, Chester had managed to have his own secret conversation with the marksman. It was short and to the point.
'If the wolf tries to escape, shoot it,' he said coldly. 'Only this time, use these bullets, and not a tranquilliser.'
The marksman held the silver bullets in his hand and gave a low laugh.
'No problem – it's just a wolf,' he replied, not realising the bullets' significance.
'Yes, nothing more,' Chester agreed. He didn't want the werefolk's secrets to be exposed any more than the other Weren.
'Why do you want it dead so badly, then? You could make more money stealing it.' The marksman narrowed his eyes.
'I don't pay you to ask questions . . . just to obey your orders.' Chester scowled and walked away.
That evening the Fang Council gathered at the castle to discuss the dire situation. The most important werefolk in Britain were sitting around the table in the Great Hall.
'This foolish pup has exposed the Grand Growler to extreme danger,' Lady Whitehorn declared. 'How could he possibly be caught on television?'
'He has shown his . . . Blavendoch to all! The secret sign of the Fangen. I have never shown my Blavendoch to anyone!' Colonel Slimpaw hit the table so hard with his fist that Freddy and all the cutlery jumped high.
'It will be obvious to any human that the boy and Flasheart are Fangen,' Mr Snotte-Muzzel cried. 'And he has exposed us to discovery. No werefolk will be safe again.'
'We shall be hunted down,' his wife gasped in fright.
'I think we are all aware of the situation, Fangen and Weren friends,' Hightail said calmly. 'But for now, I think you should keep your fears in perspective. No human knows the significance of the Blavendoch mark. Nobody is suggesting that Freddy is the poodle. They think the pooch is Flasheart's pet, along with the mongrel. The country is in a frenzy about rumours of a wild boy raised by wolves and living in the forests of Britain – nothing more. No-one has even mentioned werefolk . . . it's too far-fetched even for World's Most Wanted Wildlife.'
The Fang Council began to see this was reasonable, and everyone calmed a little.
'The pup has made a . . . well, several mistakes,' Hightail continued, 'but he showed good foresight. While Flasheart has the Moonstone, he, and our secret, is safe and we have some time. For now, Freddy must "disappear" until the country has lost interest in him and forgotten about wild wolf-boys. I will attempt to "buy" the wolf from the zoo, for my own private collection. If that fails, we will break him out, no matter what the difficulty. But we must not be hasty.'
Freddy's face fell. He wasn't keen on the idea of 'disappearing'.
'May I?' Chester Puceley stood up – he had been allowed to sit with the Council. 'I know just the place to keep Freddo safe. My jewel, Priscilla, will be travelling to Scotland tomorrow to attend summer camp. Perhaps this pup could go with her. The camp leader is an old friend of mine from Boldovia, and sure to keep him out of trouble.'
'Adventure camp?' Freddy piped up.
'Well . . . of a kind. Especially designed for boys of your talents.' Chester nodded with a friendly smile. Freddy really liked him.
'What, like canoeing and rockclimbing and fishing? Fantabulous!' Freddy punched the air.
'It is not a holi
day, Frederick,' Hightail said gravely. 'You are now a danger to us all. You have to be hidden for everyone's good.'
Freddy stared down at his feet – why was he always in trouble? He wasn't a danger, he was a hero. He tried to look sorry, but his eyes danced with excitement at the thought of the camp. 'And can I take Batty?'
Chester gave a loud snort. 'Puceleys don't associate with dogs, dear pup.' He tugged at his moustache and raised an eyebrow.
Freddy flushed with shame. 'I can't go without her,' he said quietly.
'But my darling Priscilla cannot travel with a dog, Frederick. You must make your choice and behave like a wolf.' Chester narrowed his eyes.
The temptation of adventure camp and Priscilla was too much. Freddy was a little worried about Batty – he wasn't sure how she would cope without him – but then he remembered the canoeing and thought she would probably understand.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Travelling North
But Batty didn't understand everything. She knew that Flasheart had been captured, knew that Freddy might still be in danger too, and she could see from his packed bags that he was leaving. By nudging his ear and wiggling his nose, Freddy said he was going to miss her – but she didn't know where he was going, for how long or why he wasn't taking her too. He had always said that they were best friends, and they had hardly spent an hour apart since they met.
Freddy was trying to stuff his belongings into a long, sausage-shaped bag.
Batty walked over to it and sniffed at a little luggage label tied around the handle.
'That's where I'm going to camp,' Freddy said excitedly, and ruffled her ears once again. In the end, however, his belongings wouldn't fit in the long bag, so he chose two smaller bags instead. Once they were packed he placed the bags on his silver tray.
'Come on, Bats. Slide of Doom!'
With a bark of delight, Batty jumped on behind him and down they went, spiralling round and round – Freddy's hair shot upright and Batty's tongue hung out of her open mouth. They came to a crashing halt in the rosemary bush.
'Awesome.' Freddy laughed, as Batty licked his face. 'You're the coolest,' he told her.