His plan was simple. As soon as Owen and the others fell asleep, Toby would sneak off and begin the journey home by himself. He couldn’t stop Owen from following him, but he hoped Owen would get the message and stay here by the pond.
Or…he could inadvertently lead three extra monsters to Toby’s hometown. That would be problematic.
Nah. They wouldn’t leave this nice pond in favor of a crummy little cave. Owen had never before abandoned his dwelling since Toby knew him, so whatever kind of creatures they were, they liked to stay in one place. He wouldn’t be able to get the other three to uproot themselves just to hang out with a skinny pink-skinned idiot. Right?
And if Owen did follow him back, great. He’d have his friend back with a clear conscience.
As evening approached, he spent a short amount of time making a rickety shelter out of branches. He was capable of doing much better, he was certain, but this one didn’t need to last long. As he laid the branches together, he watched Owen play-wrestle with the child in the mud near the pond.
Toby had named the child Scruffer. The female (he thought) he named Esmerelda. The male (he knew) he named Brutus. There was no hidden meaning to these names; he just thought they were appropriate.
After dark, the creatures went into their den and went to sleep.
Boy, was it dark. Toby couldn’t remember ever having been in such complete, enveloping darkness. He couldn’t even see the moon through the trees. There could be thousands of snakes slithering only inches from his body. He had a flashlight, which he’d use when he got far enough from their camp, but maybe this was better as an “early in the morning, before they wake up” plan than a “late at night, right after they go to sleep” one.
And he was exhausted. Not a good idea to walk through the pitch-black forest when you were exhausted.
He’d sleep for a couple of hours and decide the best course of action from there.
He woke to Owen prodding him.
No, wait, was it Owen…?
A clawed hand grabbed his ankle, squeezing tight.
C HAPTER N INETEEN
Toby screamed as he was dragged out of the shelter. It fell apart around him, branches scraping his face as the monster pulled his leg. He heard a hungry growl-it had to be Brutus.
He grabbed a branch-hoping it was a long one-and jabbed it forward. Felt like a direct hit. But the roar sounded like fury, not pain.
He jabbed a second time. Missed. His other arm brushed against his backpack, so he grabbed that by the strap and swung it as hard as he could. There was a satisfying smack as it struck its target. The claw released his ankle.
Brutus’s roar was still all fury.
He swung the backpack again, bashing Brutus in what he hoped was the face. Some warm, wet drops hit his stomach. And then Brutus’s talons raked down his leg, not scraping deep, but enough to rip through his jeans and almost certainly draw blood.
“Owen!”
He kicked. Something gave way beneath his shoe, and Brutus let out a sharp whine like a hurt dog. Toby scooted backward, wincing as his hands came down on rough branches. He thought he might have knocked out some of Brutus’s teeth, but he couldn’t be sure.
The talons wrapped around his ankle again.
He bashed his free foot against them. This time he knew without seeing that he’d broken off at least a couple of the talons. Brutus howled.
Toby scrambled back until he collided with a tree. He immediately turned around, grabbed a branch to help pull himself to his feet, and began to climb, the backpack dangling from his shoulder. He’d never seen Owen climb anything, so maybe-
Brutus yanked him off the tree.
Then something yanked Brutus off him.
There was hissing and tearing and chaos but Toby tried to focus entirely on climbing the branches. Get up the tree, farther than Brutus could reach. Keep himself from being shredded just long enough for Owen to make everything all right.
A roar of pain. Owen.
Toby grabbed for the branch he’d been pulled from. Found it in the dark. Used it to steady himself as he stepped up onto the lowest branch and started to climb again. In his panic, he tugged so hard on the next branch that it snapped free and he nearly lost his balance, almost plunging into the bedlam below.
He kept moving.
The tree shook as both monsters slammed into it.
Toby climbed up a few more feet, just to be sure he was high enough. His left hand stung like crazy-he’d really gouged it bad on one of the branches.
He held on tight, trying to catch his breath as he watched the two black figures struggle. His eyes had only barely begun to adjust to the darkness, not enough to let him make out any details, but the sounds and the shapes were enough to prove that neither creature had any intention of letting the other live.
A wail from farther away. The child?
Toby let go of the tree with his bloody hand and unzipped the backpack, fishing out the flashlight. He turned it on and shone the beam downward, just in time to catch a glimpse of Brutus’s talons tearing across Owen’s chest.
Owen howled and returned the vicious favor.
They circled each other, snarling. Brutus dove at him, and both monsters rolled on the ground, clawing, growling, biting.
Toby watched the spectacle with horror. Please don’t let Owen die…
But a small part of him, a part that remained an eight-year-old boy, watched in amazement, unable to believe that he was actually getting to watch two bloodthirsty monsters battle it out in a death match.
Then he cringed as Brutus jammed his talons deep into Owen’s side.
Owen threw back his head and let out a sound of such intense distress that it felt like a crossbow bolt piercing Toby’s brain. Toby screamed Owen’s name, wishing he could do something to save his friend.
Owen clearly had no intention of giving up the fight. He lowered himself into a crouch, then locked his jaws onto Brutus’s leg. The other monster bellowed with pain and tried to shake him off, but Owen’s teeth remained deep in his flesh, not coming loose until Owen tore off six inches of bloody fur.
Toby threw the only thing in his backpack that had any real weight-his thermos. It was a perfect throw, cracking against the back of Brutus’s skull, but it didn’t seem to faze the monster.
Though Toby couldn’t see Brutus’s eyes, he could imagine them, bloodshot and red with rage. Brutus slashed Owen across the chest with his claws once, twice, three times.
Toby didn’t know what he could do to help, but he had to try something. He couldn’t just hide in a tree and watch Owen get ripped apart. Better to die on the ground. If he had to, he’d beat Brutus to death with the goddamn flashlight.
He climbed down a couple of branches, then jumped all the way. The light beam shifted as he landed, clearly illuminating Owen’s face. Owen gaped at him as if to say, “What the hell are you doing?”
Brutus looked at him as well. Despite his blood-soaked fur and a protruding bone, the monster still appeared hungry.
Owen grabbed Brutus by the wrist and swung him into a different tree. Brutus’s elbow collided with the trunk, his arm snapping backward, bone bursting through fur.
And then Owen’s hands were in Brutus’s mouth, and he was pulling, Brutus’s teeth were embedded in his palms but Owen kept pulling, and Brutus’s tongue lashed back and forth, and blood dribbled between Owen’s fingers, and Owen’s eyes were squeezed shut and his jaws were closed tight as he struggled and struggled and
