Wychetts

by William Holley

18 Runaway Lunch

  Crraaaa-aaawwwwkkkkk!

  Something large, black and ragged swooped down, causing Katya to halt her attack.

  “You said they were mine,” croaked the balding bird. “You said I could eat them up.”

  “I said no such thing,” hissed Katya, baring her needle sharp teeth. “Now get out of my way, Dawes.” She swiped at the jackdaw, which responded by pecking at her hind legs.

  “Dawes?” Bryony realised why that strange bald bird had made her think of the man from the Council. It was because that strange bald bird was the man from the Council; just as Katya could turn into a cat, Mr Dawes could turn into a bird!

  It took several seconds for Bryony to gather her wits. The cat and bird were still squabbling, so she seized her chance and made a run for it.

  “Wait for me,” squealed Edwin, following as fast as he could.

  “They’re getting away,” rasped the ugly tree. “Stop arguing, and get after them.”

  Katya broke off the fight and bolted after her runaway lunch. Dawes followed, shedding tatty feathers as he took to the air.

  “Faster,” urged the ugly tree.

  “Like to see you move any quicker,” croaked Dawes.

  “I can put a shift on when I need to,” said the tree. “Granted, I’ve not got the quickest turn of pace in the business, but for a tree I’m pretty light on my feet.”

  “You don’t have any feet,” Katya pointed out.

  “Oh yeah,” conceded the ugly tree. “I’ll give you that.”

  Bryony ran for her life, leaving Edwin lagging some distance behind.

  The lounge door was shut, but Bryony reckoned she could just about squeeze through the gap at the bottom. She was so close now. Only a couple of strides away…

  There was a crack in the floor between her and the door. Not much of a crack, perhaps an inch wide at most, but an inch is quite a distance when you’ve been shrunk to the size of a matchstick. Still, Bryony reckoned she could jump it.

  But Bryony was wrong.

  She almost made it, but her trailing leg fell short, and she went tumbling backwards into the crevice. Somehow she managed to grab the edge of the crack, and clung on desperately as she saw a skinny, ginger haired boy leaping through the air above her.

  “Edwin,” she cried. “Help me!”

  Edwin disappeared from view, and Bryony realised that he wouldn’t stop to save her. Not that she blamed him. If the boot was on the other foot…

  “Give me your hand.”

  Edwin appeared again at the edge of the crack, reaching down to Bryony with a bony arm.

  Bryony tried, but couldn’t quite bring her free hand up to meet his flailing fingers.

  A shadow fell over them, and a pair of large green eyes appeared over Edwin’s shoulder. Then the bird came swooping down, stabbing at Edwin’s head with its giant razor-sharp beak.

  Edwin ducked, but lost his balance as the tip of the jackdaw’s beak grazed his shoulder. With a startled yelp he toppled forwards into the crack, hitting Bryony on the way down.

  And then they were falling into darkness. Edwin screamed, and that was the last thing Bryony heard before she fainted.