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By Root 842 0

another night?’ – ‘Do we have to go home so soon?’ Today, he was glad to be going. It was as though a close friend had turned against him. He had looked forward to this trip all holiday and it had gone so terribly wrong. Of course, if Michael had done stuff with him . . . If Michael . . . But Michael was no fun any more. And Mum . . . Something twisted very tight in his stomach. He didn’t want to think about any of it. He would do what he always did at home when he wanted to take his mind off things; he would close his eyes and count the number of objects he could remember in Morveren’s cabin. He knew this cabin so intimately that he had often been able to recall and place over two hundred items including brass hinges and visible screw heads. So that he couldn’t accuse himself of cheating, he wouldn’t count anything that could be seen from Grandad’s bunk.

Zaki was mentally enumerating the contents of the chart table when Morveren passed through the outer reef and reached open water. He felt the change in the boat’s motion as she met a gentle swell. There were footsteps on deck followed shortly by the chatter of the rope winch and the crack and flap of the mainsail as it was run up the mast. The rigging creaked as sheets were tightened and also when Morveren leant over as her sails caught the wind. The engine fell silent and Zaki could hear the wash and slap of water against the hull. Morveren settled into a steady, easy motion, like a long-distance runner settling into her stride. Zaki had just remembered to count the spare sparkplug in the chart table when he drifted off to sleep.

g

Emptiness. An immense, blue void, bright and clear as the sky on a crisp, cloudless winter’s day. Nothing, until the appearance of a tiny speck, like a full stop in infinity. The speck gets larger and larger – soon it is the size of a house, a mountain, a planet hurtling towards him. It is black, so black that it drinks up all the light – soon he will be crushed. Then it blinks open – an eye. He plunges through it. He is underwater – a flick of his tail and he can shoot forward – he is at home here, in his element. Movement behind him seizes his attention – instinctively he thrashes with his whole body. He is the prey, the other is the hunter, razor-sharp teeth open to swallow him; he swims up, up, striving for the surface that floats above him, striving for safety, flinging himself from water into air as teeth snap shut. Suddenly he is free, airborne, looking down. Each beat of his outstretched wings lifts him higher – a tilt of the tail and he slips sideways, riding the wind. High above him the hawk hangs on air, haloed by the sun, then drops, talons reaching, beak outstretched, sharp as an arrow. The chase is on again and when the hawk strikes he tumbles, falling through treetops, past whipping branches into the shelter of the undergrowth. He cowers among the gorse – he is a hare – his long ears twitch and turn to catch each sound. His nose picks up the scent of fox. He is up and running, weaving, dodging, doubling back, leaping over heather. The fox is on his heels, matching turn for turn, twist for twist, leap for leap, flying behind him like a flag connected by an invisible thread. Nowhere to hide – this is certain death! Teeth knife into his shoulder – he snatches breath to scream!

‘Zaki . . . Zaki!’

Zaki opened his eyes.

‘Bad dream?’

Zaki struggled out of the nightmare to find he was drenched in sweat. He looked up at his father, who had come halfway down the companionway, into the cabin.

‘Try to sit up and drink some water.’

Stepping down into the cabin, his father helped him to sit up in the bunk and handed him a plastic bottle of drinking water.

Zaki could tell from the boat’s motion that they were still at sea.

‘Where are we?’ he asked, after taking a swig from the bottle.

‘We’re off Bolt Head. Not far to go now,’ replied his father. ‘We’ve had a nice reach up the coast. You missed a good sail.’

‘Can I come up on deck?’ asked Zaki.

‘How’s the shoulder?’

‘It hurts, but I need some air.’ Zaki grimaced as he slid out