That night Timmy was alone again in the tent picking the thorns from his legs. Explosions of shock and anger continued to go off in his head like fireworks. He’d not uttered a word since he put out the fire out and he’d not eaten his supper either.
Why did Lucas have to come on this trip, he kept asking himself?
The night was getting cold and Timmy shivered.
In the morning the ferry would be coming back to collect them and it would all be over. He lay down in the hopeful knowledge that this time tomorrow he’d be at home in his warm cosy bed.
Somewhere out there amid the nocturnal orchestra of Mere, a tree was creaking in the wind. It couldn’t be that nightmare tree because that was gone now.
After a while Timmy became aware of a shuffling sound outside, followed by Lucas’s heavy breathing and Timmy went rigid. His blood ran cold in an instant and his lungs froze. He couldn’t breathe, despite his heart hammering against his chest. He could see the other’s shadow moving across the canvass outside.
Lucas was at the front of the tent now, fumbling with the zip as he tried to get inside.
That nightmare tree had died in the fire, Timmy reminded himself… along with Lucas.