. . .

Children across the county stop in their tracks, crawl out of the street perhaps or out of a doorway, and tumble down to sleep. Birds stagger to the trees and utility poles from the sky. The sun grows sleepy, too; it bobs towards the horizon, fights to hold on, it is early evening and it is not yet time for it to set —

The wolf’s lullaby drones on.

“I’ll get out,” whispers the wolf to Edmund’s sleeping form. He hears it, even through his doze. “I’ll get out, and I’ll kill everyone, like I told your father, like I told your father’s father, and his mum. And you will be part of me, if you wish it; or perhaps I shall offer you no choice; and you shall know the forever and my insides.”

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