you have hatched...
A pack of wild black dogs run with their mouths open, drooling at the thought of catching their prey.
They race across the clear night sky, moonlight shining on their black coats as their paws pound the air.
They're followed by the thundering hooves of the horses, the huntsmen urging them on, eager that tonight will be the night for the kill. The Wild Hunt rides.
A mouse appears out of darkness. It scampers this way and that. It's a pale grey mouse. Almost white. Almost transparent.
It makes no sound on the crunchy leaves beneath its feet. Light as air, light as a ghost, it sniffs around as the Hunt thunders overhead.
Phelim is fourteen. He's asleep on the ground, but restless. When the he moves in his sleep, the mouse moves on the ground. When he is still, the mouse is still.
Alexia is also fourteen. She's lying near him, but she's awake. She's watching the mouse.
The Hunt passes on, and the night is quiet. The mouse creeps into Phelim's mouth as he opens it to yawn in his sleep, and vanishes.
When the mouse has vanished, and Phelim has settled into deep sleep, Alexia puts her head down and shuts her eyes.
In the morning, Phelim quietly takes off one of the two shirts he's wearing and drops it behind a nearby bush, hoping to lose it without Alexia noticing or asking why. But when she goes behind the bush to pee, she finds it. 'Isn't this yours? Don't lose it'. Phelim takes it, with a mumbled thanks.
