Wild Blood by Kate Thompson Page B

and ridiculous among the almost military drabness. The picture was coming from somewhere on the left-hand side of the crowd, and the third time it was sent, Tess zoned in.
    The rat who had seen the red wellies was fully grown but very small compared to the rest of the fat, meal-fed rats. There was something odd about her as well; she was sitting on her haunches and nodding fervently, like some religious zealot of the rodent world. With a faint shock, Tess realised that she had seen her before, and at the same time she remembered where. She had met her in the hall-way on her first visit to the rat world beneath the farm, and she had flashed her that strange, poetic welcome. She had forgotten it at the time because of the argument in the kitchen, but now that she thought about it she began to wonder whether the rat who had sent it was the full shilling. If not, the sighting of the red wellies might prove to be unreliable.
    The story of the Big Feet was still continuing. While she waited for it to come to an end, Tess glanced over at Kevin again. But this time he was not looking towards her but away, at something deeper in the woods. For a reason that she didn’t understand, the sight gave Tess the creeps.
    She turned back to the gathering and joined the chorus of ‘yup, yups’ that greeted the end of the story. The protocol of such occasions required that she, as the visitor, now tell another one, but as politely as she could she declined the honour and, in the general melee that followed, she made her way over to the strange, dissenting rat.
    As Tess approached she nodded again, so deeply that it was more like a bow.
    ‘Cat Friend,’ she said, her images fresh and clear.
    ‘Tail Short Seven Toes,’ Tess replied and, wasting no time on ceremony, continued, ‘little red wellies, huh? Huh?’
    Cat Friend was delighted to cooperate. ‘Yup, yup,’ she said, and flashed again the image of Colm’s red boots.
    ‘More feet, huh?’ said Tess, offering various feet-images but purposefully avoiding any that might prompt Cat Friend into an untruthful answer. If she was a little uncertain about her facts, she might now be tricked into giving herself away.
    But Tess needn’t have worried. Cat Friend’s next image was clear beyond any shadow of doubt. There were four pairs of feet; three small and one big. Apart from the red wellies there were Orla’s boots, and Brian’s and, to Tess’s surprise, a pair of very familiar trainers.
    ‘Huh? Huh?’ she said, needing to see them again, needing to be sure.
    Cat Friend repeated obligingly. There was no doubt about it. The trainers were Kevin’s.
    Tess sat up on her haunches and turned to look at him, but the spot where he had been was empty. She craned her neck, then jumped up on to a rock for a better view. Between the trees she caught a glimpse of him, moving swiftly away, almost out of sight already. Unwilling to frighten the rats she raced after him on foot for a few yards before Switching into a pigeon and dodging among the trees in wild pursuit.
    But it was already too late. There was no sign of him. It was impossible, but it was true. She had seen him only a moment ago, but now he was nowhere. She flew until she met the crag, then flew back, quartering the area in one direction and then the other. She flew until her own panic exhausted her pigeon wings, and then she came to a quivering halt on a dead branch lodged between two trees. It couldn’t have happened. He had to be there.
    She dropped down to the ground and Switched back to human form, her limbs still trembling from fear and fatigue. The rats were gone, vanished back beneath the rocks and roots and leaves. Once again, Tess was alone in the woods.
    ‘Kevin?’ she called.
    There was no answer.
    ‘Kevin! I know you’re there!’
    In the pause that followed, a faint breeze sighed among the branches. It seemed to carry words.
    ‘Come on, Tess. Come with me.’
    Fear grasped her like a claw and, without knowing