Eleanor grabbed the flashlight and pointed it accusingly at her siblings. “We had a mission, remember? To find Mum and Dad!”
“That’s right, Nell. But we’ve checked the whole house, including the basement, and they aren’t here.”
“What about outside? We haven’t looked there yet.”
“That’s where the giant dragonflies are!”
“I don’t care what’s out there. We need to search for them while it’s still light out. You guys can stay here if you want.”
Eleanor stomped up the basement stairs. Brendan and Cordelia glanced at each other and rushed after her; she had the only light.
Back on the first floor, the Walkers opened all the shutters to let in enough light for them to see by. Then, in the kitchen, Brendan insisted on some self-defence measures before the group ventured out. He took a chef’s knife from the magnetic rack that was now on the floor, and he outfitted Cordelia with a steak knife and Eleanor with a barbecue fork. “Hold your weapon like a hammer,” he instructed, “with the blade pointed up.”
“I don’t have a blade,” protested Eleanor.
“Your fork, then. In a fight you can use your hand to deliver butt-end knife strikes – Nell, that’s not funny. Stand with your legs shoulder-width apart. Don’t you guys know anything? Ugh, forget it.”
Brendan led his sisters out of the kitchen, past the suit of armour that was knocked over in the hall. “Hold on.” He went back to the kitchen, grabbed some duct tape, and taped the breastplate around Cordelia. Then he put the helmet on and gave Eleanor the gauntlets, which were big enough to reach from her elbows to her wrists. Thus armed, looking better prepared for Halloween than for a fantastical forest, the Walker children opened the front door and stepped outside.
Brendan squinted in the light. The helmet hadn’t been such a good idea: the eye slits were meant for someone with further-apart eyes. He tried to take it off, but it was stuck on his head. Cordelia tipped her head back and saw the tops of the trees, dozens of metres up, against slivers of blue sky.
“Mum!” Eleanor called. “Mummy! Are you out here?”
“Dad! Hey, Dad, can you hear us?” Brendan said. “We’re safe! Kind of…”
For a moment, the birds and bugs dipped into quiet… and then they started up again, filling the void as if the Walkers had never spoken. The children circled the house, sticking together, weapons drawn, calling out as they went. Brendan longed for anything familiar, even the stone angel. He noted the terrifying uniformity of the wilderness that surrounded them. Apart from the distant brook they had spotted through the attic window, there wasn’t anything to indicate direction. The only way to tell which way was which was by looking at the shadows of the trees. And if we didn’t go back in time, who’s to say we’re not in some weird place where the sun rises in the west and sets in the east?
When the Walkers came back around to the front door, they were no closer to finding their parents, but their calls had attracted something else.
A wolf, over two metres from tail to snout, was sniffing the ground in front of their home.
The wolf raised its head, revealing scarred, matted fur and milky, rabid eyes. It growled, stretching the noise out like a fake smile, exposing double rows of wet, razor-sharp teeth. It took a step towards them.
“Bren!” Cordelia whispered. “What do we do?”
Brendan tried to remember what he’d been taught in Boy Scouts about animal attacks – you were supposed to not move, stay quiet, and be calm; the animal wouldn’t bother you if you didn’t bother it – but that seemed irrelevant under the gaze of this creature, which clearly intended to eat them. All he could do was tense his muscles and gulp. The wolf bent its head over Eleanor. It was fifteen centimetres taller than her; it looked capable of swallowing her whole. The line of its mouth ran nearly all the way up its triangular head. Spittle gathered where its black lips were subsumed by fur.
The wolf sniffed Eleanor. Her breath came in tight jerks. Tears streamed down her face. The wolf opened its jaws. She closed her eyes, hyperventilating, smelling its meaty breath—
And the wolf stopped, cocked its head, and ran off behind the house.
Brendan couldn’t believe it. He caught Eleanor as her knees gave out, hugging her with Cordelia, using all his strength to tear off his helmet and kiss her hair.
“What happened?” Eleanor asked. “I thought I was gonna die!”
“The wolf must’ve been scared by us.”
“By what, our fierce appearance?” Cordelia said.
“Maybe,” suggested Brendan.
“Don’t be stupid. It heard something. Listen.”
They all heard it now, far off in the woods: hoofbeats.
“Horses?” Eleanor asked hopefully.
The sound grew louder, drumming through the ground into their legs and the pits of their stomachs. “Everyone inside,” Cordelia said.
“But Deal,” Eleanor began, “I want—”
“Now. Someone’s coming!”
Cordelia rushed to the entrance of Kristoff House. Brendan followed, dragging Eleanor with him. They slammed the door and turned all the locks. Brendan tried to set the house alarm, frantically pressing buttons on the keypad.
“Bren!” said Cordelia. “There’s no electricity!”
“Right, my bad.”
Cordelia led them to a window, inched open a shutter, and peeked out.
“What do you see?” Eleanor asked.
“Shh.” The truth was that Cordelia found it difficult to describe what she saw without sounding completely insane.
A band of warriors was riding up to the house on horseback. They were muscular and massive and terrifying, from the glinting helmets on their heads to the knifelike spurs that rattled on their leather boots. They had thick, bristly beards and big full-plate armour that made her breastplate look like a toy. They carried swords, axes and bows. Their boots were caked with dried mud… or was it blood?
“How many horses are there?” asked Eleanor.
“Seven, I think, but Nell, that doesn’t matter—”
“Let me see!” Eleanor pushed her sister aside. “Oh my gosh!”
Brendan crowded her out. “What is this, Lord of the Rings, the reality show?”
The siblings jostled for position, finding a way to all peer out. The warriors dismounted and tied their steeds to trees. They approached the house with caution. The
