“You’re crazy, Alex! Get back in the house!” Hannah warned. She appeared at
the window. She pulled it up higher and leaned out.
“I’m not coming out there,” she insisted. “It’s too dangerous. You told me
about those two animals you saw. They were ripped to shreds—right? If the
Marlings see you, they’ll do the same thing to you!”
Her words sent a cold shiver down the back of my neck. But I was desperate to
solve the mystery—and to snap a great photo.
“They won’t see us!” I told her. “We’ll hide behind the bushes at the side of
the house.”
“Don’t say
us
,” Hannah called out. “I’m not doing it, Alex. I’m too
scared. I’m warning you, go back inside.”
“Please!” I pleaded. I grabbed her arm. “Come on out, Hannah. You want to see
the werewolves too—don’t you?”
“No way!” She jerked her arm away. “Go home, Alex,” she repeated. “It’s not a
game. It’s really dangerous.”
“Listen, Hannah—” I started.
But she slid the window shut.
I stared at the reflection of the trees in the glass. Maybe she’s right, I
thought. Another cold shiver ran down my back. Maybe this is a big mistake.
Maybe it
is
too dangerous. If the Marlings catch me…
I gasped when I heard a low growl.
I froze.
I didn’t have to turn around. I knew from the sound.
A werewolf—it had sneaked up behind me.
Another low grunt made me cry out.
My knees started to collapse. I took a deep, shivering breath and spun around
to face the creature.
No.
Not there.
No one there.
I swallowed. Swallowed again. My mouth suddenly felt bone-dry.
Another growl. I realized where it came from. From the back of the Marlings’
house.
They’re about to jump out the window, I told myself. Those are the sounds I
hear every night just before they climb out the bedroom window.
And I’m standing out here in the open. I’ll be the first thing they see!
My legs didn’t want to work. But I gritted my teeth, took a deep breath—and
forced myself to move.
My sneakers slid on the wet grass. I slipped, but I didn’t fall.
I scrambled to the bushes that divided my aunt and uncle’s house from the
Marlings’ house.
I dropped to my knees, panting noisily. My heart pounded so hard, my chest
hurt.
I ducked my head. And grabbed for the straps on my camera case.
A high, shrill animal howl floated out from the Marlings’ open bedroom
window. The light of the moon made the side of their house gleam.
The yard was nearly as bright as day. Everything glistened from the frosty
dew.
Ducking low behind the bushes, I could see every leaf, every dew-covered
blade of grass.
I tugged at the zipper of my camera case. I knew I had to pull the camera out—fast. But my hands were shaking so bad, I couldn’t budge the zipper.
Another howl made me turn back to the window.
A shadow moved.
A leg slid out.
Another leg.
A slender form dropped to the ground.
It all happened so quickly. As if time had been put on fast-forward.
My eyes on the window, I struggled to unzip the camera case.
Another body crawled out from the darkness of the Marlings’ bedroom window.
Two forms stood on the ground and stretched.
Two
humans
!
Not wolves.
Humans.
What were they wearing?
Capes?
Dark fur capes, draped over their shoulders, hanging heavily behind them.
They had their backs to me. I couldn’t see their faces.
Hands on their waists, they stretched, bending back, bending from side to
side, as if limbering up their muscles for a long jog.
And then they raised their heads to the moon—and howled.
Turn around!
I pleaded silently, trembling behind the bushes.
Please
turn around! I want to see your faces!
“Ohhhh…” I uttered a startled moan as their fur capes began to move. The
heavy capes began to curl around them, to tighten around their bodies.
And I realized they weren’t capes. They were some kind of animal skins.
Furry skins. With arms. And legs…
The dark skins wrapped themselves tightly over the two humans. The fur spread
over their bodies, slid over their heads, covered their legs, their arms, their
hands.
“Ohhhhh…” I shook so hard, I let go of the camera case and hugged myself.
Hugged myself tight, trying to hold myself in, trying to keep myself together.
The two figures howled again, raising their furry arms over their heads.
Silvery claws slid out from their paws.
The two creatures raked the claws at each other playfully, pretending to
attack. Growling and grunting, they lowered themselves to all fours.
No longer humans.
Animals… wolf creatures…
Hannah is right, I realized. She told the truth. The Marlings
are
werewolves. They turned into wolves under the moonlight.
Gasping for breath, I snatched up the camera case. I fumbled once again with
the zipper. Finally managed to pull it open.
And they turned. They both turned toward me.
Two
wolves
!
Their dark eyes stared out from beneath fur-covered foreheads. Their furry
snouts snapped open to reveal rows of curled animal teeth.
Werewolves. The Marlings were werewolves. Human and wolf at the same time!
The werewolves nuzzled each other, growling softly. I raised the camera. I
pulled myself up to my knees.
I’ve got to snap a picture. Do it
now,
Alex! I ordered myself.
But my hands shook so badly, I wasn’t sure I could hold the camera steady
enough.
Do it! Do it!
I raised the viewfinder to my eye. I stood up a little higher to see over the
top of the bush.
“Ohhh.” As I raised myself, a sharp twig scraped the side of my face.
And I dropped the camera!
It landed on the grass with a
THUD.
The two wolf creatures turned.
And saw me!
I sank to the ground. Pressed myself flat on my stomach.
My chest heaved. I breathed through my mouth, struggling to keep perfectly
still, perfectly silent.
Did they see me?
Did
they?
I raised my head enough to peer out at them beneath the bottom branch of the
bush.
They had their fur-covered snouts raised. They sniffed the air.
Did they
smell
me? Did they know I was hiding down here?
Were they about to leap into the bush and rip me apart with those long,
silvery claws?
I held my breath, squinting across the grass at them.
They sniffed some more, grunting softly.
Then they turned away. Dropped to all fours. And loped off, heading to the
woods.
I waited until I could no longer hear the soft thud of their paws or their low growls and grunts. Then I slid forward on my
stomach, reached out, and grabbed my camera.
My camera!
I hadn’t snapped any photos. Not a single shot.
I climbed shakily to my feet and rubbed the wet dew from the lens. Then I
raised my eyes to the woods.
I have to follow them, I decided.
I have to take some photos. This is the chance of a lifetime!
If I can take the first-ever shots of actual werewolves, I’ll be famous! I
pictured myself in newspapers and on magazine covers. I imagined my photos of
the Marlings on display in fancy photo galleries.
And I thought of how proud of me Uncle Colin and Aunt Marta would be.
That thought sent a chill down my back. Uncle Colin and Aunt Marta—they
were working in the woods right now. Busy photographing animals of the night.
Did they know that two werewolves were on the loose? Did they know that two
werewolves were prowling the woods, searching for victims?
They’re not safe out there, I realized.
Of course, following the werewolves into the woods was crazy—and dangerous.
But now I had
two
reasons to chase after them.
I had to snap some pictures—
and
warn my aunt and uncle.
My eyes on the woods, I jammed the camera into the case and slung it over my
shoulder. Then I began trotting across the backyard toward the trees, following
the fresh paw prints in the frosty grass.
I ducked into the trees and followed the curving path. Moonlight trickled
through the treetop leaves, making eerie, shifting patterns on the ground.
I didn’t have to go far to catch up with the two werewolves. Just past the
bent, old-man tree, I heard an animal grunt. And then a shrill cry of attack.
I stopped—and peered through a low evergreen shrub. Mouths gaping open,
claws raised, the two wolf creatures leaped.
They’ve caught someone!
I realized, frozen in horror.
Who is it? My aunt? My uncle?
The two werewolves wrestled with their prey.
I heard a shrill bleat of pain. Then I saw four hooves shoot up in the air.
Not a human, I realized, squinting into the dim light. They’ve trapped a
deer. A baby deer.
They’re going to kill it.
They’re going to tear it to shreds.
What can I do? I asked myself. How can I save it?
I didn’t think. I was too terrified to think clearly.
I tossed back my head. And I let out a loud wolf howl.
My cry echoed off the trees.
The snarling werewolves stopped their attack. They raised their heads.
They turned toward my cry.
Just long enough for the fawn to scramble to its feet. It shook itself—like
a dog after a bath—and took off into the trees.
The werewolves sniffed the air furiously. They didn’t seem to notice that the
fawn had escaped. Their eyes glowed red in the pale moonlight. They turned,
uttering low, angry growls. Lowered their heads. And came charging at me.
I staggered back.
Too frightened to move.
No time to run.
The ground seemed to shake under the thunder of the wolves’ paws.
I opened my mouth to scream—but no sound came out.
The wolves’ jaws snapped. Their red eyes glowed as if on fire.
I raised my arms in front of me, as if to shield myself.
Prepared for the attack.
And the wolves turned away. Turned sharply to the right, running together.
A scrawny brown rabbit scrambled over the path.
The wolves had turned away from me to chase the rabbit!
Snarling furiously, they lowered their heads—and caught the rabbit easily.
The little creature didn’t put up much of a fight.
One wolf snapped its neck. The other bit hungrily into its belly.
Breathing hard, I swung my camera case around. And pulled the camera out with
a quick jerk.
My hand trembled as I raised the viewfinder to my eye. But I steadied the
camera with both hands.
And clicked off a shot.
And then another.
I snapped a shot of the wolves tugging the rabbit apart. And another shot of
the two of them eating side by side.
When the wolves finished, nothing remained of the rabbit. Licking their
teeth, they turned and loped off into the trees.
Holding my camera in front of me with both hands, I followed after them.
I guess I was in some kind of shock. I know I wasn’t thinking clearly.
I was barely thinking at all!
I had nearly been caught by the two werewolves. They would have finished me
the way they’d finished that poor rabbit.
But I knew I had to follow them. I had to stay in the woods.
I had to warn my aunt and uncle. I had to find them and tell them they were
wrong about the Marlings. That Hannah told the truth.
I had to let them know the danger they were in.
And I had to take more photographs.
I’d been through such a horrible scare. My heart pounded, and my arms and
legs felt all trembly and weak. I didn’t feel like me. I felt as if I were
outside myself, watching myself.
But I knew I couldn’t run back to the house. Not until my aunt and uncle were
safe.
I kept pretty far behind the creatures, far enough that I could slip behind a
tree or bush if one of them glanced back. And I kept my camera raised, ready to
snap off shots.
They loped slowly to the creek. I watched them lower their heads and noisily
lap up water.
They didn’t look at all human now. Their bodies had become wolf bodies. I
couldn’t see anything human in their faces. Their glowing eyes were animal eyes.
They took a long drink from the creek, washing down their dinner, I guess. I
steadied my camera and clicked off several shots.
I wished Hannah had come with me. I wanted someone else to be there with me,
to see what I was seeing.
I couldn’t wait to get back and tell her that she was right about the
Marlings. That they really were werewolves.
The two wolf creatures suddenly raised their heads from the water, turned,
and sniffed the air.
Did they smell me? Or some other prey?
I slid behind a fat tree trunk and held my breath.
When I carefully peered out, they were loping along the creek shore. I waited
until they had gone a short distance, then I crept out and followed them.
I followed the two werewolves all night. I finished one roll of film, then
popped in another. I shot them rising up on their furry hind legs and howling at
the moon. And I clicked off several more horrifying shots of them devouring
small animals.
And I searched for my aunt and uncle. Desperate to warn them, to tell them
what I had learned.
As I trailed behind the creatures—so frightened and excited—I completely
lost track of time. It was as if I were walking through a dream. None of it
seemed real.