Hunter's Moon (3 page)

Neil and Tanya sat in the pub next to a roaring log fire.

‘Make the most of this heat,’ Neil said. ‘It’ll be freezing out there tonight.’

‘I’ve got extra layers,’ Tanya smiled, ‘as well as a flask of coffee.’ She looked over her shoulder and whispered, ‘Don’t you think we should tell the police?’

Neil sighed. ‘I reported the dead kite today, but they can’t seem to do much. And what do we tell them? “
We’re camping out in the wood tonight because we think something odd is going on. We’re after a big cat on the prowl
.” They’ll lock us up!’

Tanya sipped her drink. ‘Joe’s mum phoned. He’s still very ill. They pumped out his stomach and he’s on a drip. They wouldn’t say any more. They do that to people who take an overdose. I’m sure Joe hasn’t taken drugs. I know he can be stupid but …’

Neil didn’t say anything. He had other ideas. He pointed at her bag.

‘What’s that poking out with a dirty great bin liner over it?’

Tanya touched her nose. ‘That’s a secret. I know it’s against my beliefs, but I’m not going into those woods without it. I took it
from Joe’s kitchen. Just in case.’

Neil didn’t have to ask. He knew it was a shotgun. He felt relieved they had it. If the big cat really was out there, they might need it.

When they left the pub, the moon was already high in a starry sky. The whole village was bathed in its wash of silvery liquid light. A sharp frost crept over the trees and a thin crust of ice crawled across puddles on the track. Neil’s boots crunched the icy splinters as he entered the woods. Even inside, where the trees were thick and tall, milky light trickled down into shimmering pools of moonlight. But the shadows grew deeper, darker, denser … as the cloak of night pulled tighter around them. Tanya’s hand slipped into Neil’s.

‘Over there!’ Neil pointed with his torch beam, into a thick mass of bushes. ‘We can
hide in there. We’ll be able to see the walnut trees.’

Tanya squeezed his hand. ‘I’m really scared. I’ve got my phone at the ready. Just in case.’

‘Who will you call – Panthers-R-Us?’

Neil looked down at the snaking roots of beech trees. His torch beam danced over the peaty moss.

‘What are you looking for? Tracks?’ Tanya asked. Neil didn’t reply. He was deep in thought.

Soon they were lying on a plastic sheet, huddled under a sleeping bag. The gun pointed out through the twigs as their eyes scanned the ghostly woods. Their torches were off now. It was almost midnight and an icy silence hung in the smoky greyness.

Enough moonlight seeped across the ground for them to see smudgy shapes. But
they heard it first – long before the dark figure moved through the trees. A scraping noise. The rustle of leaves and the cracking of twigs. Panting. Something being dragged. Grunting.

Neil gripped Tanya’s arm as the figure came closer. Or were there two shapes? It was hard to see. There was a thud. The shape moved away again. Silence. Tanya squeezed Neil’s hand. They waited. A shrill sound startled them. It was Tanya’s watch bleeping midnight. She smothered her wrist and the noise died.

The moon was high overhead now. Its silver light soaked into the earth around them. It spilled through the walnut trees, and on to the advancing figure. The figure of a man, carrying something.

Neil’s eyes were fixed on the figure scraping a tool on tree trunks. Tanya
couldn’t see what was happening and whispered, ‘What –?’ It wasn’t just Neil’s grip on her arm that stopped her. It was the footsteps, coming nearer. Very close. Liquid splashed around them. The smell made their eyes water. Strong ammonia. But that wasn’t all. Neil felt drips fall on his hand. He looked down. It shone in the moonlight. He felt sick. His hand was covered in blood. He thought of the words he’d read earlier. The words from Joel. Had they come true?

The sun had turned to darkness, and the moon to blood.

The figure began to dig. His spade glinted as the moon shone more brightly than ever. The frozen earth crunched with each blow of the spade.

‘Can you see who he is?’ Neil said, but he had a good idea already. It was all starting to make sense. He’d have to find out if he was right. He stood up.

‘I’m going down there,’ he said. ‘Keep watch – but keep out of sight.’ He slowly crept from tree to tree.

The man stopped digging every so often to look around. Neil kept to the shadows just a few metres away. The hole in the ground was the size of a grave. Neil stepped forward. His heart thumped like never before. He was about to speak when the man turned and lunged at Neil with the spade.

In a cloud of steamy breath, the man swore. Neil fell with a blinding crack as the spade sliced into his shoulder. The man lifted the spade like an axe above his head. He was about to bring it down to finish Neil for good. But then the shot hit him, as a loud crack ripped through the night. He staggered and fell, sinking into the soft pile of earth. He slumped, with a throaty growl.
Tanya’s finger squeezed the trigger again. As he lay panting among the twisted roots, he howled. Like a beast. Like a hunted tiger bathed by the light of Hunter’s Moon.

The morning mist drifted across the valley. Jeff looked from his window and gave a sigh. A dead sheep lay in his field. Its throat was torn and there were deep claw marks across its back. He turned towards the sofa.

‘It happened last night. No panther – just your friend with his iron claw. At least you stopped him in his tracks.’

He rubbed his back. It was already much better. ‘I’ll put the kettle on.’

‘I’ll do it.’ Tanya jumped to her feet. ‘What about you, Neil?’

‘Yeah, fine.’ He was still dazed from lack of sleep and the blow to his shoulder. He’d had ten stitches and now wore a sling for a smashed collar bone. Then there had been all the police questions. He’d only slept for an hour or so.

Today was the day of the shoot. Jeff told him to forget work. Neil needed rest and besides, the police would be searching the woods.

Jeff sighed again. ‘Shame Tanya won’t come shooting, seeing as she’s such a good shot. A pity you didn’t finish him off. I would have done. You only gave him a couple of flesh wounds. Not enough to stop him running off. Let’s hope the police have
picked him up by now.’

‘Yeah. But she saved me. Too bad we were too late to save his wife.’

Neil began the full story. The story of Mr Fenby from The Manor House. The Master of the Hunt. The man with the dark secret. The one who threw the brick to scare them off. Who’d tried to stop them finding out the grisly truth.

‘Fenby killed his wife. He couldn’t bury her on his own land in case the police came looking. So where’s the next best place? The woods. How did he make sure people didn’t go snooping about and find out what he was up to? He made up the panther story. He used an iron claw to scratch the trees. He splashed blood about. He killed the odd pheasant or sheep. He wrecked the bridge to get you out the way. He threw ammonia about to smell like panther pee.
Strong enough to keep dogs from digging her up.’

‘And do you know why he waited till Hunter’s Moon to bury his wife?’ Jeff asked. ‘It’s the only night of the year when it’s light enough to see in those woods without a torch. A torch can be seen from the track. He couldn’t take the risk of being caught red-handed.’

‘It was Joe who got wind of what was going on,’ Tanya said. ‘That’s why Fenby got him round for a meal. To poison him.’

Neil lay back on the sofa. ‘Poison from under our beech trees. They may look like harmless mushrooms. But popped on a plate with a bit of bacon … it could have killed Joe. Death Cap woodland fungus can be just a tad fatal. His mum said they’re letting him home today.’

The phone rang and Jeff went into the
hall. Neil held Tanya’s hand.

‘Thanks for everything,’ he said. ‘You not only saved my life last night, but you saved our woods. Fenby wanted that land. He was waiting for us to fail this season. But we’re not going to. I’ll see to that. And all this big cat nonsense will stop now.’

Tanya smiled and kissed Neil’s cheek.

‘I’m going to cook a feast for us tonight. For you, Jeff and me.’

Neil laughed. ‘No mushrooms, I hope!’ He turned to kiss her as Jeff came back in the room. He looked pale.

‘That was my son,’ he said. ‘He comes every night to feed my sheep and check them out. He was held up last night. He didn’t get here till gone midnight. All the sheep were fine. Nothing wrong. That can only mean one thing. It wasn’t Fenby who killed that sheep. There’s something else
out there.’

Tanya looked at Neil. He said nothing. The room fell very quiet.

‘But do you want to hear the real bombshell?’ Jeff asked. ‘My son saw an ambulance and police cars in the lane this morning on his side of the woods. Someone found Fenby in a ditch. Or what was left of him. It looked like he’d been ripped apart – by something.’

Neil stood and sighed as he walked to the window. The mist had lifted now. A soft wind stirred the trees. A single red kite flew high above the woods. Their pheasant woods. Such a peaceful scene.

But there were still secrets out there. Dark secrets … known only to the night – and to the silent Hunter’s Moon.

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