Sky Wolves

Livi Michael is the author of four books for adults and the bestselling series of books about Frank the hamster for younger children. Her award-winning book for older children,
The Whispering Road
, has received much critical acclaim. She has two sons and lives near Manchester.

At first there was only swirling mist, then shadows, then shifting lights. Finally her paws struck something solid and gritty and she was clambering upwards, out from the place of no return. Still holding the precious twig in her mouth, she scrabbled at the solid surface, her head and shoulders in one world and her rear end in quite another, and almost dropped back in as something thundered past.

Shaken but undeterred, she scrambled on to the road and cowered in the blaze of lights as there was another thundering roar.

Lights, more lights, and noise such as she had never experienced before. Her paws shifted on the grit and the texture of the road, too, was unfamiliar. She had come to a place of monsters and demons, of channelled fire and lightning and thunder and wind. She flattened herself against the blast as another demon swept past, the heat and stench. Where in the nine worlds was she?

Wherever she was, she couldn’t go back. There behind her, through the mist, lay the void, gently quivering. It made soft sounds she could barely hear. As though it was lapping at the edge of this world. But in front of her were the roaring demons with eyes that flashed along the road like
lightning. Suddenly she realized they were chariots – chariots of thunder and flame. The road shook beneath them.

But she had come so far, she could not give up now. Anything was better than Nothing. She would have to try somehow to reach the other side. She could just about see that there
was
another side, briefly but repeatedly illuminated in the flares of light. That was where she needed to go – away from the void. She put one paw out, then hastily withdrew it as another chariot roared past and then another.

Remember,
she told herself as her heart quailed, and it quailed further as she realized she had almost forgotten her purpose. But she held the flowering twig between her teeth, summoned the remaining strength in her muscles and, at the next pause in the traffic, shot like an arrow into the road.

Faster and faster she ran, narrowly avoiding one chariot, then another. In fury they blared their dreadful cries and she was deafened, but running still. She could feel the air whistling past her ears and through her teeth. And she could make out trees and bushes on the other side, she was almost there, when a stunning pain shot from her hip to her spine and she keeled over, hearing only the screech of the chariot, as she sank once more into darkness.

It was Sam’s worst birthday party ever. He and his mum had just moved house, and now they lived in the middle of a strange city, where they didn’t know anyone.

‘You’ll soon make friends at school,’ his mother said.

She had invited her aunts, Aunty Lilith, Aunty Joan and Aunty Dot (who hadn’t arrived yet), and they sat in the front room, eating cake and discussing their varicose veins.

‘Like bunches of grapes,’ said Aunty Joan. ‘Still, at least I’ve got legs,’ she went on briskly. ‘Poor Edith’s having her other leg off soon.’

Aunty Lilith, who was deaf, said, ‘Eh?’

‘I SAID, EDITH’S HAVING ANOTHER LEG OFF.’

‘That’ll be her third,’ said Aunty Lilith.

‘No, dear,
legs.
Edith’s having her other leg off.’

‘Why would she do that?’ said Aunty Lilith, very surprised. ‘She’s only just had them put on.’

‘
Edith
,’ bellowed Aunty Joan. ‘Edith’s legs. You told me about it, remember?’

‘No, I didn’t.’

‘Yes, you did!’

‘No, no, dear, that’s Edith. You can’t go line-dancing without any legs.’

Aunty Joan turned faintly purple, then gave up. ‘Why don’t you open your present?’ she said to Sam. ‘I don’t know where Dot’s got to, but I don’t think she’ll mind.’

Reluctantly, Sam picked up the bulky parcel. He’d had presents from his aunts before. As soon as he started opening it he could tell it was a jumper they had knitted themselves. His aunts knitted all the time, so you’d think they’d have got better at it.

‘Oh, that’s
lovely,’
his mother said. ‘Why don’t you try it on?’

Sam just looked at her.

‘Come on,’ she said.

With a vast sigh, Sam pulled off his hoodie and tussled his way into the knitted jumper. It was about the right size for Aunty Lilith, who was a very large lady, yet strangely, the neck was too small. It took the combined efforts of both Sam and his mother to wrestle his head through, then a mass of hairy wool fell to his knees.

‘You’ll grow into it,’ his mother said, in an undertone.

‘How?’
said Sam, and indeed the jumper was rather an odd shape. One arm seemed to be lower than the other, and it pouched out from the neck like a smock.

‘Such an unusual colour,’ his mother said brightly.

Sam was just thinking that it looked as though someone had been sick down the front.

‘Scrambled Egg,’
said Aunty Joan. ‘It was on offer at the shop. Sixteen balls for the price of one.’

‘I saw it first,’ said Aunty Lilith.

‘No, you didn’t.’

‘Yes, I did!’

‘No, you didn’t – you wanted to buy that
Purple Meringue.
Just because Edith had bought some.’

‘Can’t hear you,’ said Aunty Lilith.

Aunty Dot picked it up in the end,’ said Aunty Joan to Sam and his mum. ‘We had to ask her three times, because she kept forgetting.’

‘It’s a brilliant jumper,’ said Sam. ‘But – maybe I should take it off now – it’s – er – getting a bit warm.’