Alfie the Werewolf 4: Wolf Wood Read online

  A Dream

  ‘Grrrr, wake up, little werewolf Can you hear me?’

  Alfie was lying in bed. His room was dark and in that darkness someone was standing very still. Two white eyes were looking at him. From a wolf’s head.

  It was a very old wolf with grey hair and pale white eyes. He was even older than Grandpa Werewolf. Much older. Golden earrings glittered in his ears and there were golden chains around his neck.

  Alfie knew straightaway that he was dreaming. He’d had this dream before.

  ‘You must search well, little werewolf. Follow the beast. Search under the stone. There—’

  BRRRRING.

  Alfie shot up and banged down the button of the alarm clock. Silence.

  ‘Ooph, I have to go to school.’ Groaning, he climbed out of bed. He’d had exactly two hours’ sleep. What a weird dream, he thought, then forgot it again. He had to get dressed in a hurry.

  Dad was downstairs in his M3 T-shirt. ‘I’ll see you tonight, Alfie,’ he said. ‘I have to go to an M3 meeting today.’

  ‘I know what it is,’ Alfie said suddenly. ‘It’s a band, where you dress up. And it’s got three men in it: M3! I bet you.’

  Dad smiled. He was wearing the M3 helmet with a pink M3 bathing cap on over the top of it. ‘Wrong! And I’m not telling what it is.’

  Things went well at school. Mr French didn’t notice anything unusual about Alfie. He was busy explaining things and reading out loud. Alfie sat very still with his chin resting on his hands and his eyes shut. It looked like he was listening very carefully, but he wasn’t. Alfie was asleep. Every now and then his chin would slip off his hands and he’d wake up with a start.

  Only Noura noticed. She gave Alfie a soft nudge. ‘Up late last night?’

  ‘Wrow.’

  Just hearing Noura’s voice was enough to make Alfie smile. Noura was a girl with long black hair and skin the colour of milk chocolate. She was the only one in the class who knew that Alfie was a werewolf. Alfie thought she was very cute and very sweet. He always felt a warm glow when she was near him.

  What’s more, Noura had a secret of her own. No one knew except Alfie and his family.

  ‘Noura, could you pay attention, please,’ Mr French said.

  Noura turned back to the front of the classroom. ‘Sorry, sir.’

  ‘That’s all right, Noura, but this subject is important.’

  ‘Wrow.’ Alfie was dreaming about two men. They were talking about choppers and cutters and leaves dropping. They looked like evil dentists with white masks and enormous pliers and hedge-clippers.

  ‘Wrow,’ he growled softly.

  Mr French nodded. ‘See, Alfie agrees with me. Now, what were we talking about?’

  A boy put up his hand. ‘Endangered forests, sir.’

  ‘That’s right, Ahmed. We were talking about people who cut down trees without a permit or anything. About forests getting burnt down, chopped down and cleared. That’s very bad for the environment.’

  ‘Humph,’ went Vincent, who sat in front of Alfie. ‘There’s plenty of trees left in the world. Having fewer wouldn’t make any difference. Then there’d be more room for football pitches.’

  Mr French looked at Vincent and shook his head. ‘That’s not a very intelligent comment, Vincent. Forests are important for the air we breathe. Without forests we’d choke.’

  Vincent shrugged. ‘There aren’t any trees here in the classroom. I can breathe fine.’

  All at once Alfie shot up. ‘No. Don’t flatten the wood. Watch out for the Chopper and the creepy Chippie. The nosy trees will drop their leaves …’

  7

  WROW

  ‘What did you say, Alfie?’ Mr French frowned. ‘What are you talking about? What’s this about a creepy chippie?’

  Alfie was awake properly now. ‘I mean … choppers and cutters and that. They want to cut down Wolf Wood. That’s not right. We have to stop them, sir. Even if they don’t want any leaves dropping.’ Alfie jumped up. ‘My grandfather lives in that wood. They’re going to take care of him too.’ Alfie looked around with a frantic expression. His eyes were big and his hair was sticking up. His fingers were curled up like claws and his voice sounded a bit growly. The other children all gaped at him. He was obviously very confused.

  Mr French walked over to his desk. ‘What are you talking about, Alfie? Come on, sit down and take a deep breath. Who wants to cut down Wolf Wood? Where does your grandfather live?’

  Vincent sniggered quietly. ‘Does your grandfather live in the wood, Alfie? Is he a woodcutter?’

  Alfie blushed a little. ‘Grandpa is a were— Um …’ Alfie looked helplessly at Noura. ‘Um, he’s a …’ Oh no, what was he supposed to say now? No one was allowed to know that Grandpa was a werewolf.

  ‘Alfie’s grandpa is aware of everything that happens in the wood because he’s a scientist,’ Noura said quickly. ‘Specializes in forests. That’s why he lives there. To study the wood.’

  Alfie shot Noura a look of gratitude. Wow, Noura was so smart.

  Mr French frowned. ‘A-ha, I see. And your grandfather’s wood is endangered?’

  Alfie nodded. ‘Yes, sir, they want to cut it down.’

  Mr French rubbed his nose. His eyes seemed to have grown a little larger. ‘They want to cut down a whole wood? When?’

  Alfie thought hard. He was sure the men had said when they planned to do it. Deep furrows appeared on his forehead. He closed his eyes. In his thoughts he was back in the wood. He saw the two men. In his thoughts he even heard them talking.

  ‘When do we start, Boss?’

  ‘Tomorrow night, Rattlebones, when everyone’s asleep. We’ll strike while the iron is hot.’

  Tomorrow? thought Alfie. And they said that last night …

  ‘Tonight, sir, I think. They want to flatten the wood tonight in secret.’

  ‘Tonight?’ said Mr French. ‘That’s terrible.’ He looked around the class. ‘What can we do about it?’

  ‘Nothing,’ Vincent shouted. ‘If they cut down the wood, they could put a great football pitch there.’

  Mr French walked between the desks. ‘Does anyone else have a better idea?’

  The children all looked at him with blank faces.

  He sighed and shrugged. ‘That’s a shame. I don’t think we can do anything about it, Alfie.’

  Suddenly Noura stood up. ‘Of course we can, sir. We have to demonstrate. Woods and forests are beautiful. We have to keep them. Especially Wolf Wood.’

  Mr French looked at Noura. ‘Demonstrate?’

  ‘Yes, sir, with banners and things.’

  Mr French’s cheeks started glowing. ‘That’s a fantastic idea, Noura. Class, let’s get started. A PROTEST GROUP. This’ll be our next project. We’re going to save Grandpa the scientist’s wood.’

  For a moment the kids were totally silent.

  ‘Do we have to?’ asked Vincent, but the others all jumped up and started dancing around the classroom.

  ‘Yippee.’

  ‘Yes!’

  ‘Cool.’

  Finally they all calmed down again.

  ‘OK, that’s enough of that,’ Mr French said. ‘Back in your seats.’

  Larissa put up her hand. ‘Sir, what does a protest group actually do?’

  Mr French’s face was now red all over with excitement. ‘A protest group organizes protests. We’re going to protest against the tree cutters. We’re going to try to save Wolf Wood.’

  ‘How, sir?’ asked Ahmed.

  Mr French walked over to the blackboard, grabbed a piece of chalk and wrote: PLAN. ‘Together we’re going to work out a plan. Then he wrote: LETTER. ‘Write a letter to the mayor. And one to the newspaper and one to the local TV station.’ Under LETTER he wrote: BANNER. ‘Noura’s idea: we’ll make a banner. On it we’ll write the name of our protest group. Then everyone will be able to see what we’re fighting for. Tonight we’ll go to Wolf Wood.’

  ‘Yes, with Chinese lanterns,’ said Noura.
<
br />   ‘Yippee, a procession,’ someone called.

  Mr French nodded. ‘We’ll have to ask a few parents along to accompany us. Then we’ll all go to protest against them cutting down the trees.’

  ‘Yes!’ shouted the class.

  The children climbed on to their desks and Mr French got up on top of his table. He raised a finger in the air. ‘And we’ll think of a lot more things too, but first we have to come up with a name. What are we going to call our protest group? It has to be a good name.’

  ‘Wrow,’ growled Alfie. He wasn’t standing on his desk. He had his head back down on his arms and was dreaming again.

  ‘WROW?’ said Mr French. ‘That sounds good, Alfie, but what does it mean?’

  Noura quickly nudged Alfie.

  ‘Um,’ he stammered. Noura put up a finger.

  ‘I know what WROW means, sir.’

  ‘OK, Noura, tell us what it means.’

  Noura looked at Alfie for a moment. ‘We’ll Rescue Our Wood. Is that right, Alfie?’

  Alfie gave Noura a drowsy look. She’s so sweet, he thought. And she has such beautiful eyes.

  ‘Exactly, Noura, that’s just what it means.’

  Mr French thought for a moment then slowly nodded. He looked at Alfie. ‘Wonderful, Alfie, that’s a brilliant idea. From now on our protest group is called WROW, We’ll Rescue Our Wood. Fantastic.’

  The children all started to cheer.

  ‘Long live WROW. We’ll stop the chopper and the cutter and the rest too.’

  ‘This is stupid,’ said Vincent. ‘I’d rather play football.’

  But no one was listening.

  Mr French jumped down from his table. ‘OK, guys, we don’t have much time. Let’s get cracking.’

  8

  ‘Help’

  It was close to six o’clock when Alfie walked into his back garden. Almost the entire class had stayed behind after school and worked hard. Vincent was the only one who hadn’t. He’d gone off to football practice.

  The banner was ready and they had written a letter to the mayor. Ahmed had delivered it to the town hall and Mr French had phoned the local TV station.

  Halfway down the garden path Alfie stopped. Something was wrong. He stared at the Scoffle’s cage: the door had been torn off its hinges and the lock was broken. The cage was empty.

  Alfie gulped. The Scoffle was a very unusual pet. It was as small as a cat, with a long, very strong tail. No one knew exactly what it looked like, because it was hidden by lots of long hair. It slept almost the whole time, mostly rolled up in a ball at the back of the cage. But it could strip an elephant bare in two minutes. At least, that’s what Valentine the vampire said about it once.

  Valentine was a kind of friend of Alfie’s. The werewolf hunter Silvertooth had once locked them in two cages, one next to the other. But that’s another story.

  And now the Scoffle had got out …

  Alfie raced into the kitchen. ‘Mum, Dad, the Scoffle’s got out.’

  The kitchen was empty.

  ‘Hello, where is everyone?’

  No answer. There was nobody around.

  A terrible thought popped into Alfie’s head. The Scoffle had got out of its cage. Maybe it had gone into the house looking for something to eat. And then it had eaten Dad. And after that it had eaten Mum, as pudding. Alfie shook his head. That was impossible. The Scoffle would never do anything like that … Or would it? He felt a little bit weak at the knees. What if …

  ‘Hey, Alfie, you home at last?’ Tim came downstairs.

  ‘Tim, the Scoffle got out.’

  ‘I know.’ Tim went into the kitchen and got a bottle of Coke out of the fridge.

  ‘Where are Mum and Dad, Tim?’

  Tim calmly poured two glasses and handed one to Alfie. ‘Don’t you remember? Mum’s gone to the seaside for the week. For that painting course. She’s away for another three days.’

  Alfie nodded with relief. ‘Oh, that’s right. I completely forgot about it because of all the stuff at school. And Dad?’

  ‘Dad went to an M3 meeting today.’

  ‘I think they’re singers,’ said Alfie.

  ‘Singers? What do you mean?’

  ‘M3. I think it’s a singing group with three men in it. Get it? M3. Three Men.’

  Tim shrugged. ‘Don’t ask me. The meeting was at the sports fields, so there must be more than just three of them.’

  Alfie took a big slug of Coke. ‘Maybe they’re giving a concert there.’

  Tim shrugged again. ‘Dad still hasn’t said what it means.’

  ‘Where is he now?’

  Tim sniggered. ‘Hunting the Scoffle. With a kind of butterfly net, I think.’

  Alfie gave a deep sigh. ‘Phew. So no one’s been eaten?’

  Tim laughed. ‘Of course not, silly.’

  Alfie was about to say something, but the telephone rang.

  ‘That might be Dad,’ Tim said. ‘Maybe he’s already caught the Scoffle.’

  Alfie was closest to the phone and picked it up straightaway. ‘Hello, Alfie speaking.’

  There was a rumbling noise, then rustling and cracking.

  Alfie pressed the receiver hard against his ear. ‘Hello. Who is it?’

  The snapping and cracking got louder and louder. Then a voice whispered, ‘Help.’

  ‘Grandpa?’ Alfie was so shocked he dropped his glass.

  9

  Chopped Down

  The glass shattered on the floor. Pieces flew in all directions and Coke splashed up against the wall. Alfie was too astonished to notice and just stared at the receiver.

  ‘Hello? Hello? Grandpa? Grandpa, what’s wrong?’

  There was just a deathly silence, followed by: beep, beep, beep, beep.

  Tim could tell from Alfie’s face that something was wrong. ‘Who was it?’

  Slowly, Alfie put the receiver back in place. ‘Grandpa Werewolf.’

  ‘You sure?’

  ‘Yes, I recognized his growl. Something terrible’s happened.’

  ‘What?’

  Alfie shrugged, then looked at Tim with big eyes. ‘Maybe something to do with the secret.’

  ‘What secret?’

  ‘I don’t know. Grandpa wanted to tell me a big secret.’

  ‘Exciting,’ said Tim. ‘But what exactly did Grandpa say?’

  ‘All he said was, ‘Help.’ Then I heard a loud crack. Like boards snapping.’

  ‘“Help”? That doesn’t sound like a secret,’ Tim said. ‘That sounds like he urgently needs our help. I’ll get my bike, then we can go straight there. I can double you.’

  Alfie looked at the floor. ‘What about all this glass?’

  ‘Leave it. We’ll tidy up later.’

  Alfie nodded. ‘Let’s write a note for Dad first. Then he’ll know where we are.’ Alfie grabbed a pen and paper while Tim went to get his bike out of the shed.

  After going outside to join him, Alfie hesitated. ‘Maybe I should phone Noura. She’s sure to want to come too.’

  ‘No time,’ Tim said. ‘Minutes could be important. Every second counts.’

  Alfie nodded. ‘You’re right. I’ll see Noura tonight at the demonstration anyway.’

  ‘So, made it.’

  Tim leant his bike against a tree and they walked into the wood. It was already half past six and a bit gloomy between the trees.

  ‘Which way?’ Tim asked.

  Alfie looked around. ‘I don’t know. As a werewolf, I always know exactly which way to go. It’s a shame I’m not one now. It’s still too early. The full moon hasn’t come up yet. We’ll just have to start searching.’

  Tim walked along behind Alfie for a while. ‘What are we actually searching for, Alfie?’

  Alfie stuck his nose in the air and sniffed. He was already starting to feel a little bit like a werewolf.

  ‘Grandpa Werewolf’s treehouse, of course. Grandpa lives high up in a tree. It’s the oldest tree here and it’s right in the middle of the wood. You can’t se
e the treehouse from down on the ground.’

  Alfie hesitated for a moment, looking left and right. ‘Wait a minute, Tim. Now I remember. I think it’s that way.’

  Alfie started to run and Tim raced along behind him.

  ‘Oh no,’ said Alfie, ‘not this way. I think it’s over there.’ He turned and started running in the opposite direction. Tim followed, looking around all the while. He thought the wood was very dark and mysterious. All the trees looked alike.

  Suddenly he stopped. Was that something moving between the trees? Was that two eyes gleaming in the twilight? Was it some kind of animal? Or something else?

  ‘Alfie, wait.’

  Alfie stopped. ‘What is it, Tim?’

  Tim looked around carefully. ‘I thought I saw something.’ He shook his head. ‘Forget it. I don’t think it was anything.’

  They walked on, Alfie peering left and right. The hour of the full moon was approaching. He felt the werewolf inside him slowly waking up.

  ‘We’re getting close to Grandpa’s treehouse. I recognize that big beech there. The one that looks like it’s stretching its arms.’

  ‘I don’t recognize anything,’ said Tim. ‘All trees look alike to me.’

  Alfie shook his head. ‘It can’t be far now.’

  Snap! The sound of a branch breaking.

  Tim looked to the side with fright. Was that something shooting off behind a tree? Tim rubbed his eyes. What nonsense, he thought. I’m imagining things. You’d think I was scared. I just have to think of something else. The Scoffle, for instance. Maybe it was the Scoffle.

  ‘Hey, Alfie, do you think Dad’s found the Scoffle? Maybe it’s back in its cage by now. What do you reckon?’

  One look at Alfie was enough to make Tim fall silent. There was something wrong with him. He was frozen to the spot. His arms were hanging limply. His face had turned white.

  Slowly he raised one arm. He looked like he could hardly lift it.

  Alfie pointed to a spot between two trees.

  ‘There. Oh no, Tim, it’s horrible. Grandpa’s tree was right there. With the treehouse in it. But now …’