‘You can’t be…’ you say, shaking your head. You have to be dreaming. These things… they aren’t real.

  The creature tilts its head the same way your friend’s dog does when it can’t understand you.

  ‘How?’ you ask.

  It pulls its lips back and two pointed canines protrude from its upper jaw.

  ‘There are many unnatural miracles here at the Midnight Manor,’ it replies, its voice smooth like velvet. ‘Me and my pack are just some of them.’

  ‘Your pack?’ you stutter, choking at the thought of more.

  ‘What is a werewolf without a pack?’ the wolf asks, its barrel chest expanding as it takes in a long, slow inhale. ‘You, child, can call me, Luna.’

  ‘Lu-Lu-Luna?’ you repeat, stumbling over your words. You know that name, don’t you? You’ve heard it before. But your brain has slowed down, too full of werewolves and blade-like teeth to function properly.

  ‘We are grateful you chose us,’ Luna says.

  ‘But I didn’t choose you. I didn’t choose any of this.’

  Luna lowers her head, her yellow eyes narrowing on you as she stalks forward. ‘Yes, little one. Yes, you did. There are rules, after all. For what is a game without rules?’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ you say, desperately reaching for your mum.

  ‘It’s time,’ Luna says, raising her arms as if summoning the dead from their graves. And she kind of is – if the dead were a ravenous pack of werewolves and their graves were the timber beams above you.

  A second later, the bed quakes as werewolves of all different colours and sizes land gracefully on the timber floor.

  A brilliantly white wolf sniffs the air in your direction, its wet tongue licking its lips.

  ‘Snow,’ Luna warns. ‘Keep your distance.’

  Snow snarls. Her eyes move greedily from your now stirring mum to you.

  ‘Just a little nibble,’ she says.

  Luna moves forward. Her presence overpowers the rest of the pack, and they all respectfully dip their heads. ‘Not a bite,’ she says. ‘With the addition of these two, we will have nine. From everything we have gathered, Cornelius and his brain-devouring scum have six. We are two players closer to taking back what is rightfully ours.’

  Snow growls and snaps her jaws, shaking her mane of white fur, as if it’s taking every fibre of her body not to eat you.

  ‘Stand down,’ Luna commands. ‘That’s an order.’

  Snow’s lips curl back, but she drops her head and falls into step with a chestnut-coloured wolf.

  Luna moves around the bed, two muscular arms perched at her sides. You’re too scared to move. Your limbs are frozen in place.

  Next to you, your mum groans and yawns, rousing slowly from her sleep. For a moment you think you have a chance, if you can just wake her up, if you can just scream out – but then your moment disappears. Luna is fast. In a flash of darkness she lunges at you.

  A searing pain slices through your shoulder as Luna sinks her teeth into you. Bright flashes of pinks and purples invade your vision and every cell in your body is set alight. You scream out, finally hearing your mum awaken.

  ‘Wh-what’s going on? Who-who are—’

  There’s a blur of brown fur to your left. Your mum’s screaming. You want to help her. You want to run. But your limbs are on fire. Everything is fading. Then the barn disappears. Then your mum disappears. And after a moment, you, as you know yourself, disappear, too.

  Yikes. Gnawed on by a werewolf. I can think of better ways to spend an evening. Clearly, you can’t, that’s why you’re here. No judgement, of course. To each their own. So, go on, you lover of pain, you adorer of despair, you devotee of misery. Go find out what horrendous ending is in store for you. I bet you’ll love it.

  What a Puppy Pile!

  Your limbs are achy and tight. You stretch out on the warm, cosy patch of hay. There’s a hum of snoring around you and the oddly comforting smell of wet dog. Something niggles at the back of your mind. A dream? A memory? You can’t quite put your finger on it. Your nose itches from all the hay and you bring a finger up to scratch it. Only, it’s not a finger.

  A long, curved talon hovers in front of your nose.

  ‘Ah!’ you scream, rolling backwards. You scramble to your feet. All four of them. Wait. Your heart thumps in your chest and somehow you can hear it in your ears.

  Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. That’s not all you hear. You hear the thumping hearts of eight other wolves. Their hearts beat in unison. You can hear crickets on the manor grounds. You can hear rabbits hopping through the forest. And you can hear the slow, steady breathing of the leader. Of your leader.

  ‘Easy,’ says Luna. Her voice is soft as she appears in front of you. ‘The transition is complete. For both of you.’

  You know who she’s talking about. On the floor next to you is your mum – an auburn-coloured werewolf snoring in her sleep, looking just as cosy as she did back on the bed.

  But where is the bed? You’re disoriented for a moment, but when Luna walks over to a large window and pushes open the timber frame, your panic eases. Moonlight floods the room as you survey the entire manor grounds. From the top of the barn, you can see the forest canopy and the amber glow of Midnight Manor.

  Beyond the beams of the roof, shrouded in darkness, is a room. Six werewolves are sprawled on the floor, but as moonlight hits them, they rouse and settle lazily onto their haunches. Opening their mouths and tilting their heads back, they let out a spine-tingling echo of howls into the night air.

  ‘Ahoooooo!’

  ‘Ahoooooo!’

  ‘Ahoooooo!’

  You feel a warmth that starts in in your belly and spreads through your limbs. Then something stirs in your chest, rising up your throat and into your mouth. Before you realise it, you’ve thrown your head back, your shoulders broad and proud, and you’re letting out a rich, satisfying, almighty howl!

  ‘Ahooooo!’

  Wow. A werewolf. There are few finer things in life. I mean, a bath is a good thing, too. I like baths. Probably more than being turned into a werewolf, to be completely honest, but again, I’m not here to yuck your yum. So, congratulations are in order! Congratulations on finding your pack! And with your mother, no less. What wonderful pack members I am sure you will be. Though it did seem like there was more in store for the pack, did it not? A little mention of a game, wasn’t there? Hmmm. Interesting. I guess if you were curious about what this ‘game’ entails, you could always start back at the beginning and see if there’s an ending in which you don’t turn into a flea-infested beast of the night.

  Up You Go!

  As silently as possible, you slide out of bed, peering up toward the shadowy beams. How could anyone sleep with the thought of creatures watching you from above?

  ‘Hoooonnnnkkk… Shoooo!’

  Next to you, your mum is snoring wildly. Apparently, some people sleep well in life-threatening situations.

  Treading lightly, you pad across the room, looking for a way up. You spin around, hoping to see a ladder or rope or elevator tucked away, but there’s nothing but empty walls and hay.

  ‘Hmmm,’ you mutter, sizing up the hay bales in front of you. You’ve never been the first kid picked for team sports, but surely climbing giant blocks of hay can’t be that hard?

  Putting your theory to the test, you grab hold of the first block and start digging your toes into the scratchy straw. Surprisingly, you make quick work of it, and you’re halfway up the wall in just a few seconds.

  The higher you go, the more the stacks wobble. But thankfully you manage to wedge your toes in deeper and climb the last few bales without falling to a horrific death.

  Just above you is one of the wood beams. Grabbing hold you cautiously lift yourself up. As your eyes adjust to the dim light, you brace yourself for some kind of mysterious shadow beast. Or a giant possum. Secretly, you hope for the giant possum.

  But there’s nothing. Empty, creaking beams stretch out before you and your shoulders relax. Did you imagine it all?

  To your right the beams attach to a wooden ledge and an archway is hidden amongst the shadows of the ceiling, leading to another room.

  You’ve come too far to back down now, so you silence the sensible part of your brain that is screaming at you to run and, instead, you channel your inner gymnast and balance along a narrow beam until you make it to the ledge. Shuffling along the walkway, you hear muffled voices drifting out of the open arch.

  With your heart thumping in your chest, you lean toward the voices and listen.

  ‘What about the small one?’ says a low voice, that, in other circumstances, could be mistaken for a contented purr.

  ‘Asleep,’ answers another. ‘On the bed next to the mother last I checked.’

  ‘Do we want both of them?’ a third voice asks.

  ‘Yes,’ the first says.

  Your hands clench into fists and though a big part of you wants to bail, an even bigger part of you wants to look into the room and see where the voices are coming from. Despite your better judgement, you do just that.

  With a shaky exhale, you peer around the timber frame and look inside. As your eyes fall across the pack of beastly creatures sitting at attention in the small room, it takes every ounce of your self-control not to scream.

  Wolves. But not wolves like you’ve ever seen before. These wolves are ten times as tall as any dog-like species in existence. Their shoulders are broad and muscular. Every inch of their body is covered in thick fur, except for their velvety snouts and paws. You know what they are. You’ve read about them in books and seen them in movies, but they’re not real. Not until now, that is.

  Werewolves. You’re staring at a pack of werewolves.

  You scan the pack, counting seven in total, with one of them standing out as the clear leader: a jet-black werewolf standing tall against the far wall.

  A smaller, white wolf, is pacing back and forth in the middle of the room. Its nostrils flare as it snorts out jets of warm, steamy air. ‘Can’t we just eat one of them?’ it begs.

  The jet-black wolf takes a long, steadying inhale as its yellow eyes narrow at the white wolf. ‘Not even a nibble.’

  ‘But Luna,’ the white one growls, ‘I’m so hungry!’

  Luna’s patience wanes. In a flash, she pounces on the white wolf, pinning it to the ground. Luna snarls, long strings of saliva dripping onto the white wolf’s face.

  ‘Fine,’ concedes the white wolf. ‘I guess it’ll just be rabbits for the next decade.’

  ‘Stop thinking with your stomach, Snow,’ says Luna, easing her muscular limbs off of Snow.

  Snow rights herself, shaking her mane and limping over to a chestnut-coloured wolf’s side.

  ‘You have to control your hunger,’ the brown wolf whispers to Snow.

  ‘It’s still so hard,’ Snow replies.

  The brown one nods and rubs Snow’s ears as she settles into a spot on the floor, her body still flinching and jerking as if she’s struggling not to devour your sleeping mum below.

  Luna stands, rising to full height. She is a sight to behold. Yellow eyes stare at the pack as she flexes the muscles of her arms and chest. When the pack is silent, she turns to the back wall, removes a wood strut, and pushes open two wide timber doors. The bright yellow light of the full moon above pours into the barn.

  ‘We are so close,’ says Luna. ‘After these two, we only need one more. Just one. And then the manor is ours.’

  ‘Why can’t we just take it over now?’ sighs Snow.

  ‘There are rules,’ says Luna. ‘And consequences for rule breakers.’

  ‘But what if we just—’ Snow starts, but the brown wolf nudges her hard in the ribs and she takes the hint, dropping her head, her lips zipping shut.

  ‘It must be now,’ Luna says. ‘If they make it to morning, they may escape… or worse, join the brainless clan of the walking dead.’

  Growls erupt from each one of the pack members, some of them snorting and hissing at the mention of the clan.

  ‘Who is with me?’ asks Luna.

  ‘I’ll take the mother!’ Snow’s eyes are wide as she licks her lips.

  The chestnut wolf shakes its head. ‘No. You won’t be able to control yourself. I will take her.’

  Snow huffs and lays down on the floor like a petulant child who's just had her favourite toy taken away.

  ‘I will take the child,’ says Luna.

  The child. You. A shiver rolls down your spine and without thinking you let out a small whimper.

  Silence falls over the wolf pack. Then you hear Snow growl, ‘What was that?’

  Well. You heard an awful lot about the manor just then. Hasn’t anyone taught you that eavesdropping is awfully rude? No? Me neither. It’s my favourite pastime. Good thing you did, too, because now you know the werewolves’ plan. Most of it, anyway. And it involves you and your mother. Well, don’t just sit there, decide what you want to do! I can’t hold your hand through the whole story.

  If you decide you’d rather throw yourself down a mountain of hay bales than be anywhere near the werewolves, then scale down that massive itchfest of straw and go warn your mum!

  Or

  If you decide that your chances of outrunning a pack of bloodthirsty werewolves is slim, then why not confront the beasts? What is it they always say? A good defence, is a good offence? I’m positive that holds true for werewolves, too… just don’t blame me if it doesn’t.

  Run!

  As soon as the wolves go quiet, you know you’re done for. Instead of waiting around to see what kind of marinade they like their human sautéed in, you bolt. You run across the beams, taking them two at a time, then swing down to the hay bales. Your foot slips along the edge of the straw, and you slide down until you land on your butt on the floor.

  You look above you, but with the light bulb shining in your face, you can’t see anything beyond the outline of the beams.

  Forcing your legs to move, you stumble to your mum’s side.

  ‘Mum!’ You grab her shoulders and rock her awake. She mumbles something about yoga before you start violently shaking her. ‘Mum!’

  She blinks her eyes a few times, looking completely confused. ‘Wh-what’s going on?’

  ‘We have to get out of here!’

  You can hear them above you – paws padding across the beams, nails scratching the timber.

  ‘Now!’ you yell, dragging your mum from the bed.

  Her eyes open wide as she staggers to her feet. ‘What is going on?’

  ‘We have to get out of here! There’s no time!’

  A deep cacophony of growls fills the barn air, making even your mum pause. ‘What was that?’ she says.

  There’s no time to answer, you need to make a plan. The door you came through is all the way across the barn, and judging from the shadows creeping across the beams, it will only be seconds before the wolves descend – literally.

  But there’s always the other door. It’s closer. Just a few steps away. But you haven’t checked it. What if it’s locked? You won’t have time to make it back.

  Your mum’s hand tightens around yours as snarls and growls echo around the barn. You’re out of time. You need to choose.

  All these decisions must be hurting your head. It’s not easy being in control of your own story, is it? One door may lead you to freedom while the other leads you to becoming a werewolf’s dessert? That’s a lot of responsibility for one small human. Not to put too much pressure on you… but the wolves are here… and you need to choose… NOW!

  Want to stick with what you know? Then run to the door you came through and pray that all those school sports carnivals have given you more speed than a hungry, depraved werewolf!

  Or

  If you think neither you or your mum is fast enough to beat a fully grown beast of the night, then take your chances with the door closest to you. Fingers crossed!

  Time to Face the Music… or the Wolves!

  ‘Come on!’ You grab your mum’s hand and drag her across the room. At least you know where this door leads, and there’s no time to make the wrong choice.

  You can hear the wolves in the rafters above and your mum panting and muttering behind you.

  ‘What is going on?’ she keeps repeating.

  Your feet pound across the barn floor. Blood is rushing through your body so fast, the sound of it fills your ears. You’re only a few metres from the door. You reach out your hand.

  There’s a loud thud. The ground beneath you shakes.

  Your mum squeals as her hand slides from yours.

  You don’t bother looking back, you know exactly what’s waiting for you. Instead, you lunge for the door handle, your fingers wrapping around the cold steel. With a desperate tug, you yank the handle down and push open the door. Cold air spills into the barn as you turn back for your mum.

  ‘Mum!’ you scream.

  She’s standing a metre away from you, her arms limp at her sides as she stares open-mouthed at the enormous black-furred creature you now know as Luna.

  Your hands tremble as your mouth struggles to find any words.

  ‘Wh-wh-what are you?’ your mum stutters.

  Luna tilts her head to the side, a growl spilling from her chest as she pulls her dark lips back to reveal rows of sharp teeth.

  ‘Mum,’ you choke out. You step forward just as another six wolves drop from the beams above.

  Your mum takes a wobbly step backwards and you reach out, wrapping your hand tightly around her arm.

  The wolves are advancing, all of their lips pulled back in snarls.

  The white wolf, Snow, is moving faster than the rest. She’s jittery, her eyes wide as she licks at her lips like you and your mum are two hot dogs with extra onions.

 

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