The wolf tears off another bite of my leg. I hear the van drive away as the wolf presses his paw against my back to hold me down. I scream as he rips ...ff another chunk of my flesh. My foot is numb from the middle of my calf downward, hurting from where its numb. Looking down, I see that hes lying on me, gnawing on my separated foot. I pull myself forward about an inch, with him on top of me. I look back at him, and he doesnt seem to care. He probably wont want to eat much more than that, I. I haven’t seen the boy for at least 4 years. He’s 16 now and is a ringer for his dad. Is it me, or are kids maturing much more quickly these days? I must be getting old. Even policemen look far too young. Paul and I didn’t attend the wake. I couldn’t bear seeing anymore of Allan’s mousy, stupid little wife or hear her irritating Home Counties English accent. More to the point, I couldn’t accept the ghost of Allan in the shape of Jamie, his son.Paul has taken Allan’s death far harder than I. More

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