Flash
He was falling away from himself, and the dog’s mind rose up to meet him.
He opened his eyes. He was standing at the dog’s feet; all three of its heads bent to his. He felt three minds coursing through him, all of them tumultuous with fury. He felt three rages.
Green lights flickered in front of his eyes. He could not feel his hands. He rolled back his lips over his fangs and growled. He was chained at his feet: he could feel where the chains cut into his skin. He loathed being held captive. He longed for the forest. He should be hunting …
‘Christopher!’ A voice was shouting at him from a great distance. ‘The whiskers!’
His focus swam – animal, human. Dimly he saw that all three heads had come to rest on the floor of the kennel. All three sets of eyes were trained on him.
‘We need to go!’ cried the strange girl.
Her voice reached him and he stumbled forwards. The room itself was dizzy. He pulled out the whiskers – two, three. Each one hurt him, but he allowed it. He sniffed the air.
‘Got them,’ said the girl. ‘Now let’s move!’ She grabbed him by the arm, and her touch bolted through him like an electric shock. He was Christopher Forrester, in a dark kennel.
‘We need to unchain it,’ he gasped.
‘Are you insane?’
‘It needs to be free!’
‘We don’t have time!’
Christopher felt Anya grab his arm, and half drag him with her.
‘No,’ he muttered. ‘I have to set it free.’ The dizziness of the room came surging into his body. There was a thundering in the distance, shouts.
‘No!’ Anya’s voice was in his ear, and she hauled at his arm with both hands. ‘The giants are coming!’
His vision blurred, and the world went black.