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First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Children’s Books 2015
HarperCollins Children’s Books is a division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd,
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Ferals: The Swarm Descends
Text © Working Partners Ltd 2015
Covert art © Jeff Nentrup, 2015
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
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Source ISBN: 9780007578542
Ebook Edition © 2015 ISBN: 9780007578559
Version: 2015-07-30
Contents
Copyright
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Also Available
About the Publisher
He checked the watch Crumb had given him – 2am.
This is a bad idea, said Glum. He was perched on a branch ten feet above, beak resting in the thick plumage of his chest feathers. I’m older than you. Why does no one ever listen to the voice of experience?
“I did listen,” said Caw. “I just chose to ignore you.”
He tried to sound confident, but his mouth was dry as he crouched, shivering, in the bushes. The house in front of him was abandoned, its walls flaking and covered in graffiti. He counted two intact windows, while the rest were either cracked or boarded up. The front lawn was so overgrown there wasn’t even a path to the door. One of the trees that grew beside the house had blown over in a storm and its branches, which had crushed a section of the roof, now appeared to be growing into the building.
Home sweet home, muttered Screech, hopping nervously along Caw’s shoulder. The young crow’s claws pricked Caw’s skin, even through the leather of his coat.
Home? thought Caw. It didn’t feel like it. Not at all.
He searched his memories, but couldn’t find this place among them. He’d been five years old when the crows had carried him away, and nothing about the building in front of him was familiar. Except the unsettling feeling of dread he felt as he looked at it; the same feeling he had in his dreams.
Not too late to go back to the church, Caw, said Glum. We could have those leftover sweet potato pancakes from dinner. Besides, how do we even know this is the right place?
“I just know,” said Caw, feeling cold certainty in his gut.
A snap of fluttering wings sounded at his back and a third crow alighted on the ground. Wiry and sleek, she stabbed a slender beak into the earth and prised up a wriggling worm. The slimy creature squirmed and coiled as the crow tossed back her head and gobbled it down.
Hey, Shimmer! said Screech, puffing out his chest.
Coast’s clear, the female crow said, loose crumbs of earth dropping from her beak. What are you all waiting for?
For this young man to see sense, said Glum. To let history lie.
Don’t be such a killjoy, said Shimmer, stretching her wings. They were sheened
