by Tim ORourke
Page 23
It was then that I recognised the boy and the girl. I had seen them before on my walks up to the farm. I had often seen them sitting by the cliffs, staring into each other’s eyes. And the girl and the big guy, the one building the barn, hadn’t they been the people in the photograph I’d found in the bedroom? But what were they doing here now? Where had they come from and where was I?
Then, as if Potter was whispering in my ear, I heard him say, “I think it’s more of a case of when you are, than where you are. ”
Stepping out from beneath the shade of the trees, I set off after the boy at a safe distance.
But what if he saw me? What if that boy asked me who I was? I didn’t know if the wolves were still looking for me. I had to be careful. Then feeling that plastic piece of I. D. in my pocket, I decided that until I figured out when I was, I would simply call myself Caroline Hughes.
